Christine McFadden: The rise and fall of my house practice during COVID-19

I sighed internally and shifted the phone to my other ear.

I had worked with this woman for over 20 years. But COVID-19 had come to town and I was hunkered down at home, not working. And now she needed me because her new hamster was sneezing. No one else at our practice saw exotic animals.

Into the silence she said “I’ll pick your stethoscope up from the clinic and bring it to your house.” How could I refuse?

Just a tiny hamster and this was Janet, after all. A licensed Registered Veterinary Technician, I was indebted to Janet for her invaluable assistance over the years.

But I do not do house calls.

“House call” equals “circus performance” to me. You never have what you need or trained assistance. “Of course,” I found myself agreeing. “I’ll see you at 10 tomorrow.”

Morning came. With schools closed, the kids were home. Janet wore a face mask and rubber gloves (she was also home quarantining during this time). We retreated to the back bed and bath, where I could shut the door in my cat’s faces and examine little “Timmy” the hamster safely. The cats prowled outside, meowing in protest.

He seemed normal on exam. One of my daughters asked to play with him. Janet was agreeable. After a few minutes I took Janet out to show her the backyard. I was offering her a sample from the Persian mulberry when the first shriek rang out. I dropped the fruit and ran. Hamster? Cat?…..Inside, I found my daughter sobbing hysterically, pointing into the tiny bathroom. I looked but there was nothing to see. The shower door was closed, the toilet seat down. Nearly incoherent, she choked out that she had taken Timmy into the bathroom so he could run around. “And”, she sobbed, “he disappeared. He crawled into a hole”.

I stared at her, completely lost. I live here. I know this bathroom. There were no holes to be seen. Urgently I asked her to explain. She pointed again to where the under-sink cabinet met the wall. I dropped to my hands and knees and felt. Sure enough, there was a small hole leading up into the cabinet. Only not into the cabinet, as I discovered when I cleverly opened the door and looked inside. I was met with a smooth wall. It seems there was a tiny hole between the cabinet and the wall. Well, this was a pickle! Janet had caught up. She was silent, aghast.

I stared at the cabinet. Where did the hole go? Could the hamster go deep into the house, or worse, find his way outside, which was immediately adjacent to a koi pond? Hamsters are not strong swimmers. I kept these thoughts to myself.

Janet called him. Timmy didn’t respond. She placed his food below the hole. I fetched granola and strawberry jam. Time passed. No hamster.

Desperate, I turned to the one man I knew who could rescue Timmy. (Not my husband. He was on the golf course. He is happy there. He has a few hole-in-ones under his belt, and no intention of ever looking for a hamster in a hole).

No, I called Cesar, a longtime friend who can fix anything. His wife’s $600 fancy office photocopier wouldn’t work once and he fixed it with a paperclip.

I got him at work. He answered my call only because, as he put it, “you never call me.” I explained the situation. He suggested some options for me. I interrupted rather tensely that we were discussing his options. There was silence and then he said he was on his way. He told work he had an emergency and left.

Using an electric saw, he cut a window through the wooden cabinet. It made a lot of noise. At one point I looked and saw some faint pink dots on the woodwork. Was that paint or……..? I shot him a frantic look. He just shook his head. We placed my make-up mirror under the hole so we could see if Timmy’s head should appear, but there was so much sawdust it was hard to tell.

Cesar made a larger hole. He said the wood was thick, indicating the cabinet was well made.

“Really?” I said, as I watched another chunk fall out. I wondered if my husband ever looked under the sink. Cesar ran a brush back and forth inside the hole. Eureka! Angry hamster sounds responded! Timmy was alive and nearby! Finally, a little whiskered face appeared in the mirror and Timmy stepped out.

Janet scooped him up, we took photos of the Rescue Crew and 3 hours after I started my first house call I finished it. Good grief!