Page 45 of The Quirky Vet

We leg it down the hallway to the reception where we're greeted by a frantic lady I've never seen before. She's cradling an animal in her trembling arms.

"Hi, I'm Muir. This is Fitz. We're vets. What's happened?"

"I noticed it too late. I didn't have time to brake or swerve or do anything other than hit it. I'm so sorry." Words spill out of her in a rush as she explains she was driving when a wombat appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the road. "I'm visiting friends, so I was taking in the scenery and not paying attention to the road. Oh my god. Is he going to die? Please. Do something. Please!"

I take the wombat from her. "It's okay. We've got it. Thank you for bringing him in."

"That was the right thing to do," Fitz says calmly in an attemptto reassure her since a lot of people would keep on driving and leave the poor creature to die.

I glance down to assess the motionless animal in my arms.

Its thick fur is matted with dust, and there's a deep cut on its side, bleeding sluggishly. Its breathing is laboured, each inhale seeming like an effort, and its small dark eyes are filled with pain and confusion.

"We need immediate wound cleaning and stitching to prevent infection," I say to Fitz. His eyes home in on the deep laceration on the animal's side. Gently, he lifts the inside of the hind leg and feels for the femoral artery near the groin area to check the wombat's pulse.

"Pulse is weak," he says after a few seconds. "We'll need intravenous fluids to stabilise its condition."

"And an X-ray after that to check for broken bones or internal trauma."

Our eyes meet briefly. "I was just thinking the same thing," he says.

Ryde comes out of his consultation with a client, so we ask him to look after the lady who brought the wombat in while we take care of the poor injured fella.

After addressing the immediate concerns, his condition stabilises. We've cleaned out the wound, and thankfully, there's no signs of infection. His breathing is now steady, and his pulse is getting stronger.

"It looks like he's going to make it," I say to Wilby and Linus later that afternoon as we do a shift swap.

"You did a good job," Linus says with a warm smile.

"I didn't do it alone. Fitz was there with me."

Wilby clears his throat. "Of course he was."

"Well, he is the man's husband," Linus throws in. "And you know what they say, a couple that vets together, stays together."

"That why Ryde's always glued to your side, mate?" I reply.

Linus stiffens but quickly recovers. "Nice deflection, mate."

"It's not a deflection if it's the truth," I say, knowing it irks theguy when we make fun of the crush his best friend's son has on him. Though I have to say, I do wonder if it's all one-sided. Since Wilby's wedding, I've been clocking Linus looking at Ryde more than usual.

Wilby rolls his eyes. "I hate living in this alternate universe where I'm the mature one."

"You, mature?" I scoff. "Says the guy who changed the Taylor Swift "22" lyrics at last month's karaoke to 'I don't know about you, but I'm feeling like I wanna do a massive poo.'"

"Happens to be the same guy who walks around here lifting his leg when he farts to help, and I quote,get it all out," Linus adds.

"But it does help," Wilby retorts with a grin.

With our round of shit giving for the day winding up, I start packing up my stuff. I'm keen to get home. Gramps wasn't looking too crash hot this morning. He said he didn't sleep well. I've been worried about him all day.

"Hey, what's Fitz dressing up as for Pride next week?" Wilby asks me.

"Dunno." I pause mid-fold with my scrubs in hand. "He's keeping it under wraps."

"A marriage with secrets is no marriage at all."

I resume folding with one hand, flipping Wilby off with the other.