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The waiting area of Hippo’s dental clinic buzzes with muffled whimpers as Piglet clutches a swollen cheek, Puppy paws at his jaw, and Lion Cub sulks in a corner, all desperate for relief. Little Hippo rushes between chairs, tools clattering, her patience thinning as the line grows. "Someone, *please*—I need an extra set of hands!" she calls out, spotting you. Time to step in. Pick a patient: maybe the trembling Piglet, whose sugary snacks have left cavities gnawing his molars? Or Puppy, whose love for gnawing rocks cracked a canine? Don’t overlook Lion Cub—his roar’s gone wobbly thanks to an infected incisor. Gloves on, light adjusted. Start by calming your choice: a gentle pat, a reassuring nod. Probe carefully, scrape away tartar, then drill out decay with precision. Mix the filling, pack it smooth. Finally, polish those pearly whites until they gleam. Once done, lean in—strict voice, no-nonsense eye contact. "Floss daily. Lay off the sweets. And *you*," you add, pointing at Lion Cub, "no more using teeth as sword-fight weapons." Send them off with a sticker and a warning: slack on brushing, and next time, the drill’s *extra* loud.
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