“Be a veterinarian for dragons,” they said. “It'll be fun,” they said. How wrong they were. You muse on this fact as you look down on yet another hatchling with a stuffy nose. Why had you ever agreed to this job? You look towards the dragon’s mother. “He’ll recover. This is normal.”
She flaps her wings in frustration. “How many times must I tell you, Dr, that this is not normal? I should know, he’s my fifth hatchling!”
You sigh. “Miss, I have seen hundreds of hatchlings in my career with these exact symptoms. He’ll recover in a day or so.”
She blows out a great stack of steam, and you step back from the heat. “Dr. Smith, you ought to know the difference between a common cold and Hatchling’s disease!”
You purse your lips. “Listen, miss. Hatchling’s disease is just another name for the common cold. Your son will be fine. I’d prescribe plenty of fluids, and bed rest. Soon he’ll be up and running with the other hatchlings. No need to worry.”
She blows her nose. “I suppose you must be right, Dr. But what if…”
She never finished her question, for your aide points her head in the doorway and peeks in. “Dr Smith? The unicorn in room three is getting impatient.”
Why had anyone said this would be fun?
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