The Doggie Doctor by Elizabeth Watson
Mimi Spender was born and raised with animals. The family cat was born on her birthday–October 13–and her father kept two pure-bred, hot-blooded Irish Setters for duck hunting season. On page five of the family album a newspaper clipping, headed: “Dog Saves Woman from Burning House” sported a photograph of Mimi’s grandmother with her arm around her pet German shepherd. Not to mention the notorious woman, Aunt Celia, who raised and trained racing horses.
With a family tree that was partial to animals, nobody raised an eyebrow when Mimi, against anti-feminine odds, made up her mind to become a veterinarian.
At the age of nineteen she entered the University of California at Davis in the school of Veterinary Science, an unexpectedly unique field for a girl of Mimi’s equally unique physical stature.
A tall, chestnut haired girl with locks that had never been clipped, Mimi Spender was a traffic-stopper. Lanky and limber, her body moved in rhythm to the sway and jounce of her thick, waist-length hair that in the sunlight shimmered with red highlights. A modest smile and apple cheeks accented a perky up-turned nose and freckles that disappeared with her golden summer tan. Shy and unassuming by nature, her eyes, the color of swimming pools, twinkled with a suspicion-raising nonchalance.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.