For years now I had been working in an animal hospital, and in all my time working there, I had generally only worked on animals like dogs, cats, and the occasional rodent, but never in my time would I have expected to work on a penguin!

Until now…

It was just any other day at the animal hospital on 32nd street where I worked, until I was told I had a new patient.

I entered the examination room, expecting to see some type of dog or cat, but… that’s not at all what I saw.

On the examination table sat a penguin. A small penguin, staring at me with big, beady, yet weak eyes. It was clearly ill.

I was in shock. In all my years, I had never even seen a penguin in person.

Turning to its owner, I said, “hello ma’am, what seems to be the problem with your animal today?” My voice trembled from the pure shock of the situation.

The older woman turned to me and sighed. “Mr. Tux here has been feeling mighty ill as of lately. He can’t seem to keep any of his usual fish down, he can’t seem to swim properly, he’s always tired, and if that’s even possible, he seems abnormally warm! And he’s a penguin! I keep him in the cold,” she explained, sounding awfully sad.

“Well,” I said, “ma’am, I will do everything in my power to help save your penguin and return him to normal.”

She smiled appreciatively, and I smiled back.

Days passed where I kept Mr. Tux in the hospital, and his condition only seemed to worsen by the moment! And on top of that, I could not even figure out his diagnosis!

What kind of wretched disease could cause all these symptoms in a PENGUIN?! I mean, if this was a human, I would most likely assume this to be the flu… but can penguins even catch the flu?!

I returned to the room where the woman and Mr. Tux where and sat down at my desk, burying my head in my hands shamefully. Once again, I had returned to the poor woman without a diagnosis or a cure for her pet!

“S-sir,” she said hopefully, “have you figured out what’s wrong with Mr. Tux yet?” Her expression was so hopeful, and as much as I didn’t want to crush that hope, I had to be honest.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, but just with his symptoms and the external examinations I’ve run, I have not been able to make a certain diagnosis yet. Though I could see what comes up from imaging, if that’s alright.” I said.

“Y-yes! That’s alright, as long as Mr. Tux here gets the help he needs, I’m happy!” She exclaimed, smiling at me.

I smiled back, though not too broadly, for I didn’t want to raise her hopes too much.

I called a nurse in and Mr. Tux was placed in a wheelchair and taken to an MRI examination room. He was carefully strapped down into the machine and it whirred to life.

I sat by the computers, monitoring every little thing that popped up, until I saw it.

A tumor. In Mr. Tux’s brain.

I could literally feel the blood drain for my face as I went pale, eyes wide, jaw dropped. “Oh no…”

Mr. Tux had a brain tumor… and the only was to heal him would most likely be surgery, and I was pretty sure no one in this building knew how to do a brain tumor removal surgery on a penguin!

“Oh god! What do I tell his owner?!” I thought out loud, panicking as I took Mr. Tux out of the MRI machine, not before printing out a picture of his results.

Knowing that I just had to be honest, I returned to the room with Mr. Tux and the MRI results.

“Sir,” the woman said, smiling hopefully, “did you find out what’s wrong with Mr. Tux?”

My face fell sorrowfully, indeed I had found the cause of his symptoms, but it was not something easily resolved.

“Yes… I did, ma’am. Based on the MRI, it is clear that your penguin has a brain tumor. The only way to resolve this is surgery, and the likelihood of Mr. Tux surviving that is 50/50 at best… I’m so sorry.” I said, frowning.

The woman began to weep. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her in a comforting embrace, but I knew it was not my place.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, I know this is not the best time, but in order for your penguin to live, the surgery will have to be performed as soon as possible. Do you give your consent for us to operate on Mr. Tux?”

“Yes,” she immediately said through her tears, “anything to give my darling the chance at living.”

I nodded and called in the nurse again. Time for Mr. Tux to be taken to the operating room.

Mr. Tux was given a small dose of anesthesia to put him to sleep, and the area was sterilized.

Then the operation began.

Using a small scalpel, I cut open Mr. Tux’s head and began the attempts at removing the tumor. Hours passed of me slaving over the poor penguin’s brain, and finally, I removed the tumor.

But I removed something else in the process. I, like an amateur, had accidentally removed a vital part of Mr. Tux’s brain stem. He went limp.

“No! We need a defibrillator in here, stat! This penguin is going to die!” I yelled.

The paddles were placed on Mr. Tux’s chest and electrical shocks were sent through his body in attempt to restart his heart. Though our attempts were in vain.

Mr. Tux was dead.

The flat tone echoed through the operation room, bouncing off the walls and back into my ears in a painful way that reminded me that I had failed to save him.

Failure.

My heart sunk.

After removing Mr. Tux’s now lifeless body from the room, I returned to the woman, who was sitting on a couch, trembling with nerves.

She stood up the second she and I made eye contact.

“Sir! D-did you save him?! Is Mr. Tux ok?!” She rapidly fired questions my way, the hopeful sound of each word was like a bullet to my heart.

“I’m sorry, ma’am… but Mr. Tux regrettably did not make it through the operation. My deepest condolences go out to you…” I said, my body trembling slightly.

Her face fell, just as mine had. Tears fell from her eyes like rain from storm clouds. Though she was not angered at me, she was just sad.

The only words that escaped her lips were, “I guess I’ll see you in the next life, Mr. Tux…”

I nodded in sorrowful agreement.

_See you in the next life, Mr. Tux. Hope you enjoy the afterlife…_