I Otter Have Been Ready For This

 River otters are always interesting patients. For one, they typically don’t like a non-family member entering their den. This apparently includes those they called upon to, you know, enter their den. The first river otter I worked with was Omai. She lived with a male named Usoi. I’m not sure if he was her husband, boyfriend, oldest son, or something else. I just know that he seemed uncomfortable by my presence. The first few times I came to Omai and Usoi’s den, Usoi tried to chase me away, and Omai would remind him that she invited me. After a while he stopped trying to chase me off, instead he would just give me dirty looks when I entered and watch me intently until I left. This lasted until the day I delivered Omai’s babies. (River otters never have just one.) Delivering her pups was an interesting experience. She bit me in the arm, and when river otters bite, they bite hard.

It happened between Omai’s first and second pup in that litter. I told her to keep pushing.

“I’m trying!” she exclaimed, pulled up her head and sank her teeth into my arm before I could react. My instincts told me to fight back, but I managed to keep my cool. She let go after pup three. There were four total in that litter. I was left with a permanent scar on my right arm, but at least my patient and her pups all came out of the ordeal alive and in one piece.

I should’ve learned my lesson after Omai, but I had to work with another river otter. (Although, I did wear protective sleeves in case I got bitten again.) Kaka lived alone, and she would often make us tea whenever I was scheduled to check in on her.

“Are you married?” Kaka asked me one day.

“No,” I said, thinking she was just asking a curious question.

“Oh,” Kaka said. She looked hopeful for some reason. “Are you available then?”

“Listen,” I said. “If you’re trying to hook me up with someone, I’m sorry. I’m sure your friend is a nice guy, but right now—”

“I wasn’t trying to hook you up with a friend.” Kaka shyly looked away. After a short pause, she said, “I was trying to flirt with you.”

“Huh!? Sorry, Kaka, but I’m straight. Besides, you’re my patient right now, and even if I was LGBT, I follow a policy in which I do not get into romantic relationships with my patients.”

I never had a patient try to flirt with me before. I’ve had a few who attempted to hook me up with their friend, sibling, or cousin. (Which is something I always feel inclined to turn down.) Kaka, however, was a first. I thought my approach in turning her down was gentle enough, but her attitude towards me changed. She stopped making me tea, and we stopped having friendly conversations. In fact, the only real conversations between us after that consisted of me asking the general check-up questions, and Kaka answering rather robotically. This lasted until the day she gave birth. She cried the entire time (which was not unusual), and she looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” Kaka said. “I should’n’t’ve asked. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway. You’re a fox, and I’m a river otter.”

It took me a second to realize what she was talking about. When I did, I said, “That has nothing to do with it! I told you, I don’t get into relationships with patients.”

“I understand.”

Her litter was healthy. Five pups in total. “Who’s their father?” I asked.

“Dead,” Kaka said. “His name Ōu, and until I met him I thought it was only woman that interested me. Then again, Ōu was almost woman-like in appearance, so maybe that’s what attracted me to him.”

“I’m sure he would be happy to see your beautiful pups.”

“Thanks. I’m sure he would.”