Sharon—excuse us, Dr. Wolfe—wakes up bright and early at 6:45, feeds her five dogs, her four cats, her three birds, her two white mice, and her partridge in a pear tree, then feeds herself, and is out the door.
She gets into the office at 8 and starts by examining the cocker spaniel with the hurt leg that was brought in from the overnight emergency clinic. After determining that the leg is broken and Sir Barkington (don't look at us—we didn't name him) will require surgery, she personally calls the owner to tell him so.
Dr. Wolfe then does morning rounds, breaking in between each check-up to call the animals' owners and advise them of their pet's progress or condition. Starting at 10 she begins taking owners who have appointments, including a couple of puppy vaccinations, one suture removal, and a cat that seems to have swallowed an entire candle. The cat takes precedence, as obviously it requires surgery. You can't just wait for a cat to poop out a candle, and you can't very well reach in there, light the wick, and let it melt down, either.
She breaks (very briefly) for lunch, then is back on the job. She has a couple of spayings and neuterings to attend to right off the bat (nothing like doing that while still digesting your Lean Cuisine), then has to make a dreaded phone call. It is determined that one of her patients—a calico named Simon—has had kidney failure and will have to be euthanized (people-friendly term for killing). She makes the call to Simon’s owner, and does what she can to ease the blow. It is never easy.
After that, Dr. Wolfe refers a couple of animals that need to be monitored overnight to the emergency clinic, makes a couple of final phone calls, and heads out at about 7 pm, stopping on the way home for a burger. Oh come on—it's not like she works on cows. They are barely animals.