my mother and father are doctors who have lived in this country for many years, but we stay in touch with our Indian background.
There’s a knock on the kitchen door, and Maggie opens it. David Hutchinson and BrennaLake come in. Brenna has a shopping bag stuffed with even more art supplies. She begins adding them to the pile of materials we’ve already loaded onto the table.
“Are you going to be a horse for Halloween?” I ask David. He’s wild about horses.
He shakes his head. “A vampire. I vant to suck your blood!”
“He can’t figure out how to make a horse mask,” Brenna adds.
“I could too!” David objects. “I just think being a horse would be sort of geeky.”
“Mucho geeky,” Maggie agrees.
“What will you be?” I ask her.
“A vet, of course,” Maggie replies.
“You don’t need a mask for that,” Brenna says.
“Yes, you do—a surgical mask. Gran has a ton of them in the supply cabinet,” Maggie says.
“That’s too easy. No fair,” Brenna says. “I want to be something unusual—maybe a unicorn. Is that too babyish? I don’t know. I still have to think about it.”
Dr. Mac comes in and runs her hand through her short white hair as she surveys all our stuff—colored paper, yarn, glue, markers, beadsand buttons, paints, pipe cleaners, and stickers. “Wow!” she says. “What’s the big project?”
Dr. Mac is Dr. J.J. MacKenzie, veterinarian extraordinaire. She lives in a big brick house with Maggie. Although Dr. Mac is Maggie’s grandmother, she’s so full of energy that she doesn’t seem like a regular grandmother to me.
Dr. Mac and Maggie live with lots of animals. Besides their cat, Socrates, and their dog, Sherlock Holmes, they have a house full of animal patients. That’s because Dr. Mac runs Dr. Mac’s Place Veterinary Clinic right here, attached to her own house. She treats any animals that come through the door—pets, strays, and even wild animals. People who bring in strays or wild animals pay her what they can or sometimes nothing at all.
I volunteer at Dr. Mac’s Place, along with Maggie, David, and Brenna. I love working at the clinic. In fact, my dream is to be a vet someday.
“We’re making masks for the Halloween party at Town Center,” Maggie tells Dr. Mac. “Do you need us, Gran?”
Dr. Mac shakes her head. “So far it’s been a slow morning. If something comes up, I’ll holler,” she says as she leaves the kitchen.
“Guess who I saw this morning?” Brenna asks as she redoes the elastic at the end of her long brown braid. She continues without waiting for an answer. “As I was coming here, I saw the woman who just moved into that big old converted barn down the road.”
“Does she have any kids?” David asks.
Brenna shrugs her slim shoulders. “I didn’t see any,” she answers. “My mom heard that she’s some kind of artist.”
“That barn would be great for a studio,” I say. “It’s so big, and the last owners put in skylights.”
“I saw the woman at the market,” Maggie says, brushing her red hair out of her eyes. “She was wearing all black, and she has wild gray hair that makes her look like a witch!”
“Oh, my gosh!” Brenna cries. “Listen to this! When I saw her, she was pulling a big black kettle out of the back of her station wagon!”
“Oh, man, she’s a witch for sure!” David says, his eyes lighting up.
Brenna wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “Whoa—a witch! And just in time for Halloween! Cool!”
“I can picture her with the black kettle,” Davidsays. “Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!” He mimics a cackling witch voice, pretending to stir an imaginary potion.
As David does his witch act, a black-and-white tuxedo cat strolls in. It’s my cat, Mittens. I brought her with me this morning, because at my house repairmen are fixing our front steps, and all the hammering was scaring her. Mittens jumps up onto the table, and I scratch her between the ears. “Hi, honey,” I
There’s a knock on the kitchen door, and Maggie opens it. David Hutchinson and BrennaLake come in. Brenna has a shopping bag stuffed with even more art supplies. She begins adding them to the pile of materials we’ve already loaded onto the table.
“Are you going to be a horse for Halloween?” I ask David. He’s wild about horses.
He shakes his head. “A vampire. I vant to suck your blood!”
“He can’t figure out how to make a horse mask,” Brenna adds.
“I could too!” David objects. “I just think being a horse would be sort of geeky.”
“Mucho geeky,” Maggie agrees.
“What will you be?” I ask her.
“A vet, of course,” Maggie replies.
“You don’t need a mask for that,” Brenna says.
“Yes, you do—a surgical mask. Gran has a ton of them in the supply cabinet,” Maggie says.
“That’s too easy. No fair,” Brenna says. “I want to be something unusual—maybe a unicorn. Is that too babyish? I don’t know. I still have to think about it.”
Dr. Mac comes in and runs her hand through her short white hair as she surveys all our stuff—colored paper, yarn, glue, markers, beadsand buttons, paints, pipe cleaners, and stickers. “Wow!” she says. “What’s the big project?”
Dr. Mac is Dr. J.J. MacKenzie, veterinarian extraordinaire. She lives in a big brick house with Maggie. Although Dr. Mac is Maggie’s grandmother, she’s so full of energy that she doesn’t seem like a regular grandmother to me.
Dr. Mac and Maggie live with lots of animals. Besides their cat, Socrates, and their dog, Sherlock Holmes, they have a house full of animal patients. That’s because Dr. Mac runs Dr. Mac’s Place Veterinary Clinic right here, attached to her own house. She treats any animals that come through the door—pets, strays, and even wild animals. People who bring in strays or wild animals pay her what they can or sometimes nothing at all.
I volunteer at Dr. Mac’s Place, along with Maggie, David, and Brenna. I love working at the clinic. In fact, my dream is to be a vet someday.
“We’re making masks for the Halloween party at Town Center,” Maggie tells Dr. Mac. “Do you need us, Gran?”
Dr. Mac shakes her head. “So far it’s been a slow morning. If something comes up, I’ll holler,” she says as she leaves the kitchen.
“Guess who I saw this morning?” Brenna asks as she redoes the elastic at the end of her long brown braid. She continues without waiting for an answer. “As I was coming here, I saw the woman who just moved into that big old converted barn down the road.”
“Does she have any kids?” David asks.
Brenna shrugs her slim shoulders. “I didn’t see any,” she answers. “My mom heard that she’s some kind of artist.”
“That barn would be great for a studio,” I say. “It’s so big, and the last owners put in skylights.”
“I saw the woman at the market,” Maggie says, brushing her red hair out of her eyes. “She was wearing all black, and she has wild gray hair that makes her look like a witch!”
“Oh, my gosh!” Brenna cries. “Listen to this! When I saw her, she was pulling a big black kettle out of the back of her station wagon!”
“Oh, man, she’s a witch for sure!” David says, his eyes lighting up.
Brenna wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “Whoa—a witch! And just in time for Halloween! Cool!”
“I can picture her with the black kettle,” Davidsays. “Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!” He mimics a cackling witch voice, pretending to stir an imaginary potion.
As David does his witch act, a black-and-white tuxedo cat strolls in. It’s my cat, Mittens. I brought her with me this morning, because at my house repairmen are fixing our front steps, and all the hammering was scaring her. Mittens jumps up onto the table, and I scratch her between the ears. “Hi, honey,” I
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