Smooch & Rose by Samantha Wheeler Page A

nothing else. I jumped when the surgery door swung open.
    Craig’s arms were empty.
    â€˜Sorry, Mrs Nunn. Sorry, Rose,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She didn’t make it.’
    Gran wrapped her arms around me and gave me a squeeze.
    â€˜There’s one more thing,’ Craig added. ‘Did you see her baby?’
    I pulled away from Gran. A baby?
    â€˜There was milk in the koala’s pouch. I think she might have had a baby riding on her back when the dogs attacked her. You didn’t see anything?’
    â€˜No, there was no baby. I mean . . . it was dark . . . there were so many dogs,’ I stammered. ‘We didn’t . . .’
    Gran squeezed my arm. ‘Shhh Rosie, it’s okay.’
    â€˜A baby won’t stand a chance out there on its own,’ said Craig. ‘If you do find it, wrap it up warmly and bring it straight back in.’
    I nodded. A tiny baby koala. Out there, all alone, in the dark? We had to go find it. ‘Come on, Gran,’ I said, tugging at the waiting room door. ‘What if we’re too late?’

2. Smooch

    Gran and I locked Lizzie up in the house before grabbing an old towel and running back to the creek. The frogs and crickets were making such a racket that we had to listen hard for sounds from a frightened baby koala. Gran shone the torch around the trees as we squinted in the dark. Spindly spider webs glistened in the torchlight. Fat warty toads scuttled by our feet. Where was the little joey?
    I was about to give up when I saw something move near the base of a skinny gum tree.
    â€˜There it is!’ I cried. A bundle of white and grey fur was trying to clamber up the tree. We watched in horror as the koala kept slipping down the trunk. Maybe its claws were too weak. Maybe it was injured. It let out a terrified squeal as we approached, but Gran threw the towel over its head and it seemed to calm down.
    â€˜We won’t hurt you,’ Gran whispered, wrapping up the baby. At the car, she passed the precious parcel to me. Its trembling body was light and I could feel its heart thudding through the towel. I held it on my lap like a pile of fragile eggs, my fingers cupped around it and my thumbs rested on top.
    â€˜It’s so little,’ I said, making sure I didn’t grip it too tight. ‘So special.’
    â€˜Just goes to show, Rosie love, it’s true what I always say: things don’t have to be big to be special.’
    I looked down in wonder and tipped my thumbs back enough for the towel to open a slither. One small round ear poked out. I ran my thumb very carefully over the soft white fur.
    â€˜Will it die?’ I asked.
    Gran shook her head. ‘Hope not. Let’s see what Craig says.’
    â€˜But it hasn’t got a mum now. I mean, how will it survive and how . . .’
    I had about 5,000 questions, but Gran told me to concentrate on one thing at a time and focus on holding the koala. ‘We’re all it’s got now, Rosie, so make sure you keep it safe.’
    Craig was waiting for us when we arrived. He eased the baby from my arms and disappeared out the back. A few minutes later he came out to tell us the news.
    â€˜He’s a healthy joey, about eight months old,’ he said. ‘He isn’t injured, but he’s too young to return to the wild without his mother.’
    I stepped in closer. ‘Can I keep him?’ I said. ‘I would look after him, I promise. I already look after a horse and a goat and some chooks . . .’
    â€˜Rosie,’ said Gran, frowning.
    â€˜Please?’
    Craig shook his head. ‘You need a special permit to care for wildlife. We’ll need to find him a licensed carer. But don’t worry, if all goes well, they’ll release him again, usually in the same place he was found. It could be a while until he’s big enough, perhaps even a year. Afterwards you’ll be able to see him every day.’
    A year? I