Noelnadesan's Blog

It was one of those July days when it poured heavily. Not literally cats and dogs, but the rain was fierce. The day was dark and gloomy, with strong winds, typical of Melbourne’s winter. The weather forecast predicted similar conditions for the upcoming weeks.

I launched my veterinary clinic in a Melbourne outer suburb on a chilly, rainy winter day, when the weather was as defining of the season as Siamese twins. In winter, people are usually reluctant to leave their warm homes unless it’s an emergency, and dogs and cats also tend to remain indoors.

 In homes with central heating, the chance of pets getting injured or falling ill is quite low, which is usually when many veterinarians take their annual holiday. During winter, when I opened my clinic, the number of pet owners visiting was very limited. In fact, on several days, there were no customers at all.

I was in my clinic, idly waiting. My nurse was busy reading ‘Woman’s Day’. No animals were brought in for consultation, and the place’s quiet made me feel depressed and irritated. I said, “It seems I won’t have any bread on my table today.” The nurse looked up from her magazine, ignored my remark, and resumed reading the latest Hollywood gossip.

Suddenly, the telephone rang loudly, shattering the quiet we’d grown accustomed to all day. My nurse picked up, and after her call, she turned to me with a sarcastic snigger and said, “Today mice will provide you with your food.”

After a short while, Lynda and her 15-year-old daughter, Sophia, came to my clinic. Both had been known to me for some time. They had a cat named Tiger, who was allergic to red meat and mice. If he ate either, he would develop sores in his mouth. In the old days, cats were meant to eat mice and help farmers, but Tiger was allergic to mice. Ironic indeed!

Sophia took two mice from a small cage and placed them on the examination table. Instead of remaining there, both mice climbed onto her shoulder.

I inquired, “When did you purchase these mice?”

“Lynda lamented, ‘Sophia has been upset for two months; she first brought home a large mouse called Napoleon from school. To keep Napoleon company, she then bought a small mouse named Alexander from a pet shop and brought it home.’

I inquired about her concern regarding the mice. Sophia responded, “Napoleon has a lump on both sides of his belly, while Alexander’s skin has become slightly thickened,” she explained.

 Lynda asked, “These skin diseases can be transmitted to humans, so people usually avoid keeping mice as pets, right?”

I observed that both individuals were fiercely arguing over the mice. Sophia breeding mice reflected her teenage rebellion. Her red-dyed hair and the silver navel ring signified her transition.

For middle-aged parents, this transition might create tension. Sophia was on the verge of leaving childhood behind, but her parents, in their middle years, looked at her hobby of raising mice with suspicion.

Lynda explained that Napoleon damaged a computer cable in Sophia’s room. She doesn’t do any homework or housework, instead spending her time with her rats.

I chose not to get involved in their arguing. “Napoleon and Alexander have a contagious skin condition that affects their own species, but the risk of humans catching it is negligible; however, it’s wise to keep hands clean,” I said as I handed over the medication.

Sophia asked about Napoleon’s lifespan, and I estimated it would be 4-5 years for this type of illness. She inquired about their overall health, so I explained that mice rarely get sick but can develop tumours and abscesses. I reassured her that she shouldn’t be upset, as mice have shorter lifespans than dogs and cats. I aimed to comfort the young girl.

Meanwhile, Lynda was unhappy, worried about her daughter’s education and her computer, while her daughter was anxious about Napoleon’s future in five years due to this illness.

Each family member has their own priorities and goals. As a veterinarian, I stay loyal to the young owners of Napoleon and Alexander.