A Pet To Keep

Crying Over Spilt Milk

Jack had sat on his living room rug, writing down names and numbers to everything he could think he might need for fixing the pet up. The position fianlly gets to him after an hour, and Jackson sets his things aside to do some stretches and pop his back. Sighing with some relief, he tucks his hair behind his ears before checking on the boy. The pet really hadn't moved, and showed no signs of waking. Jack covers the boy up abit better and tucks the blanket in around him. When he is sure the boy was comfortable, Jack goes to the kitchen to make some calls, and some lunch as well.

He checks the first number on his list, thinking it was the most important. An Anthronarian. Doctors, or vets, that had the qualifications to deal with hu-pets. Jackson had found a Doctor with great reviews by all kinds of people. As he stacks up the contents of a couple sandwiches, he dials the number on the pad of paper. Jackson holds the phone between his shoulder and cheek as it rings and he sets the sandwiches on two plates.

"Dr. Franklin's veterinarian clinic. This is Marsha speaking. How can I help you?" Her voice had the practiced, crisp tone of a secretary.

"Oh hello Marsha, yeah. I really need to make an appointment with the doctor. You accept Hu-Pets right?" He frowns abit, wanting to make sure.

"Yes, the doctor is highly qualified to handle Humanoid Pets."

Jack nods, as if she could see. "Okay, yeah. I really need an appointment as soon as I can get one."

"Alright. Are you or your pet in my data base?"

"No no. Actually, I just found this stray on the streets. He's rough looking and I want him fixed up."

"A stray? One moment while I speak with the doctor," a second later the phone cuts to the low hum of 'on hold,' music.

Jack frowns at the phone then sets it down as he works with the plates. Adding some baby carrots to the plates and searching for other food. But before he could get any further work on the food, a voice came over the speaker. "Hello? Hello it's Dr. Franklin."

Jackson grabs his phone from the counter. "Hey hey, hello doctor. This is Jackson Pipper."

"Hello there Mr. Pipper! Now, what is this I hear about a stray?"

"Yeah. Basically, I found him on the street the other day, and I was able to get him home this morning. But he's really rough looking, maybe he was on the streets a week or two?"

There was a shuffling sound as the doctor moves about his large desk. "Yes yes. Well. I don't have any missing pet reports from anyone who attends this facility."

"Alright. Well I was actually wanting to make an appointment to get him looked over, and make sure he's okay." Jackson leans against the counter, tapping his pen against his note pad.

"Oh yes of course, I think I could actually squeeze you in around noon on tuesday at the earliest. Will he be fine for two days?"

Jackson writes that down. "Noon, on Tuesday. Yeah, yeah that actually sounds great."

"Strays are rare, so I like to make an effort to get them in and on the road to recovery as soon as I can."

"Thank you doctor."

"Of course, now, if you don't mind, can you give me a quick description of the boy?"

Jack blinks, "Oh, um, yeah. Course," the open floor plan allows Jack to see the sofa from his front counter. "He's probably...18 or 19. Um, five foot ish? He's small. I mean he's real skinny, but I think he's just small too. Um, brown hair, it's really matted right now, light eyes. Blue maybe? Light skinned. That's really all I can say,"