This is a story my friend wrote, and I edited. We hope you enjoy!
It all started one ‘Bring Your Daughter to Work Day’ 8 years ago. My mother had recently broken her arm and was in quite some pain (oh, dang, now I sound like my dad- you’ll find out later). Anyway, a rare white rhino (Ceratotherium simum) was pregnant and gave a surprise to everyone when she went into labor right in front of us.
This was the best thing to ever happen to me.
I was standing in the enclosure, waiting to get a peek at the new baby rhino when all of a sudden, my mom rushed in.
Now, I had imagined my first meeting with this rare specimen to be somewhat like this: my mother walked in slowly and gracefully (like a princess, I regret to inform you now, years later) holding the little tike. He would be quiet and asleep, nuzzled gently in the crook of her arm. Then she would turn to, me and say, “Oh darling, isn’t he wonderful? Oh here, you hold him!” And so I would softly take hold of his small, warm body and he would open his eyes; just like that! It was to be love at first sight.
What really happened was that my mom and a bunch of other veterinarians dashed in with one of those tables on wheels. It was specially equipped to hold the thousand-pound-or-maybe-more-body of the mother rhinoceros, Sheila. There was blood all over them, and the table, and the sheets, and of course Sheila; after all, it was her fluids!
They stopped in the middle of the room, and began panicking. My mother was shouting out instructions, but unfortunately, she was under some major stress. Stress, caused by the pain and the pressure, causes my mom’s Swedish accent to go into full blast; sometimes, she automatically begins to translate what she says into Swedish, so all anyone knew was that a slur of words ran out of her mouth. The other veterinarians were confused, my mom was helpless with her broken arm in a sling, and I was standing in the corner wondering what was going on, frustrated no one was doing anything. Was I going to just stand in a corner and just watch a baby rhino die? Heck no! I went right over to the cart-thingy (yes me: 6-year-old Violet), took a pair of sharp surgical scissors, and cut what my mother was telling everyone else to cut. As it turns out, I saved the baby rhino from choking on his own umbilical cord which was hidden between thick flaps of skin (yes, even then he was fat—after all, he is a rhino!). Instantly, he stopped struggling and Sheila relaxed. Everyone stared at me, then Sheila, then the baby rhino, then me again, and then the whole cycle went on for some minutes.
That day, I was a hero. Even afterward, as sheepish vets who were there explained the whole thing over and over again to their families, reporters, the head of staff, and the owner of the zoo, I was always the hero.
In a way, I also got the love-at-first-sight -thing. Although I should probably call it love-at-first-smell. For yes, that was how the little tike found me afterwards, which is a long story, so don’t ask me about that.
Let me introduce myself: I am Violet Finn, I am 14 years of age, and I do not have an accent. The rest of my family, however, does. My mom, as you already fond out, has a Swedish accent because she was born and raised there. My father shared the same scenario, although in
The mother rhinoceros’s name is Sheila, the father unknown because the mating occurred in the wild, and the baby’s name soon became Horneus. Why? Because I like it! That’s why. So all together, we are the Finns. Yes, even the rhinos.
Within the next week, all the commotion had calmed down a bit so I was able to return without being harassed by reporters (they are so annoying, aren’t they?).
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