Chapter 28
HEATHER
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“This is one of the dog rooms,” says Glen, a thin, brown-haired animal technician sporting a scraggly soul patch. “I’ll show you how to clean it.”
“How old are the dogs?” I ask Glen.
“Nine months.”
“Aren’t they too young to be tested on?”
He scratches under his hair net. “I guess so, but it costs money to keep them around.”
I have to work hard to keep the anger off my face. I watch as Glen shows me how to clean the cages. He grabs a dog by the scruff of the neck and transfers him from his cage to the larger exercise cage, then he sprays the dog’s cage with water and disinfectant to remove the feces and urine.
“No,” Glen protests when he sees me cuddling a dog. “We’re on a tight schedule here. There’s no time for that.”
After showing me again how to transfer the dogs, he watches carefully as I clean two cages his way.
“You okay to do the rest on your own?” he asks.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Good. I’ll start on the next room. Shout if you need me.”
The door closes behind him and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Now I can do it my way. I check to make sure Glen isn’t monitoring me at the door’s observation window, then I open the next cage and pick up the beagle inside, a white-pawed bundle of energy.
The dog snuggles against me, nuzzling his nose into my neck.
I smile down at him. “You’re a real sweetheart.” I glance at his ear-tag: #675. No, I’m not calling him that. “From now on, your name is Turbo.”
I scratch his ear and receive a joyful bark in return. Justin’s warning not to get attached to any of the lab animals flashes through my mind, but I stroke Turbo and let the warning fade away.
I finally put Turbo back in his cage and pick up room 220’s study file. Each animal room at SolomiChem has its own study file, containing a detailed protocol on the experiment, as well as information relating to the health of the animals.
I open the file to read the experimental protocol from Thompson Pharmaceuticals.
It’s a three-week toxicity study of a cancer chemopreventive agent, scheduled to begin tomorrow.
The test agent will be given to the dogs via capsule dosing.
For the study, the beagles are divided into four groups of six: a control group, low-dose, mid-dose, and a high-dose group.
The high-dose group will receive a daily dose of 400mg of the test material.
I close my eyes. 400mg. I can’t bear to even think about the toxicity of that dose. Then my stomach does an awful flip.
Turbo.
Please don’t let him be in the high-dose group. Please let him be one of the control dogs.
Control dogs receive only placebo capsules. Other than the usual boredom and loneliness experienced by lab animals, they’re fortunate not to suffer any of the side effects that come with ingestion of the test substance.
I scan the rest of the protocol. Turbo, #675, is in the mid-dose group. He’ll receive a daily dose of 80mg of the chemopreventive agent.
I remember overhearing talk in the tech room this morning about the study, how the test material is expected to make the dogs so sick they’re anticipating a loss of over fifty per cent of the high-dose group.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I close the file and wander over to Turbo’s cage, sticking my hand through the bars and stroking his soft head. As I gaze into his gentle brown eyes, I’m grateful he has no idea of what tomorrow will bring.