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needle.
    “Kitty, kitty!”
    His eyes are on me. Dr. Mac sticks the needle in the cat’s rump.
    “Fssst!” the cat turns, and fast as lightning shoots a paw through the bars.
    “Ouch!” cries Dr. Mac. “He got me!” She drops the syringe on the floor and holds her hand. Already a thick line of blood is oozing from the long scratch.
    “Oh, no! Are you OK?” I ask.
    Dr. Mac takes a deep breath and walks over to the sink. She turns on the hot water and squeezes soap on the cut.
    “He got me good,” she says as she scrubs the wound. “This scratch is pretty deep. That’s why I get my shots every other year. Even if he’s carrying a disease like rabies, my vaccinations will keep me safe.”
    “Are you going to need antibiotics, too?” I ask.
    “Spoken like a true doctor’s daughter,” Dr. Mac answers. “If this were a bite, I would. But I’ll put some antibiotic cream on it and it should be fine.”
    “I can’t believe how fast he moved,” I say.
    She turns off the water. “That’s how cats are. A dog will usually give you a sign that he’s irritated and might bite. But a cat can turn and attack before you know what’s happening.” She dries the scratch with a paper towel, spreads the germ-killing cream on the scratch, then covers it with a small bandage.
    She looks at our patient, then at her hand. “I think we should call this one Tiger. He’s definitely feral, a wild one.” She looks me in the eye. “Be careful, Sunita. Feral cats are unpredictable. You always have to be on your guard around them.”
    “You sound just like Mrs. Frazier. He just needs some love,” I say. “Once he’s feeling better, he’ll calm down. Then we’ll find him a good home.”
    Dr. Mac shakes her head. “He might look like a house cat to you, but he’s not. He was born in the wild, probably to an abandoned or runaway pet. He’s been raised wild and doesn’t have any interest in being a pet. Now, I could use some gauze and disinfectant here.”
    I get the supplies she needs from the cupboard. I know I can’t say this, but I think she’s wrong. Tiger has had a hard life so far, and he just needs some tender, loving care. I could teach him, show him that humans aren’t bad. I’m the only person Socrates is willing to cuddle with, and I can calm down our crankiest cat client.
    That’s what I’ll do. I’ll take care of Tiger while he’s recuperating, help him get used to people. I’ll tame him. That will change Dr. Mac’s mind and Mrs. Frazier’s, maybe even my mother’s.
    But that won’t happen overnight. Animal Control is coming to get the cats in Cat Land tomorrow. We have to find a way to stop them—fast.
    “Sunita?” Dr. Mac says to get my attention. “You look like you’re a million miles away. We can start the exam now.”

    The sedative has relaxed the cat so much that Dr. Mac can take him out of the cage and lay him on the table. He doesn’t even flick his tail when she starts the exam.
    First, she listens to his heart and lungs with a stethoscope. “His heartbeat is strong—a little fast, but that’s understandable, given all the stress. Respiratory rate is fast, but I don’t hear any wheezing or whistling.”
    She moves her hands slowly over the cat’s legs, back, and stomach.
    “No broken ribs—that’s good. That leg might be fractured, so we’ll X-ray. Hopefully, it’s just swollen from the trauma of the accident. If so, he’ll just need to stay confined for a while so it can heal. While he’s recovering, we’ll give him all his shots, and we’ll neuter him so he can’t go out and make any kittens. There are already too many feral cats out there.”
    Dr. Mac takes a bag of clear intravenous fluid—an I.V.—from the cupboard, hangs it on a metal stand, and connects some long plastic tubing to it. An I.V. is a mixture of sterile water with important nutrients that injured animals need.
    “I’ll start the I.V.,” she says, inserting a thin plastic needle into a vein