Summer of 1949 doesn't start out in the best way for Ivy. Her closest friend, Annie, has been changing from the down-to-earth girl she used to be. Ivy has so much to keep herself grounded, it's unlikely she could ever be uprooted from the simple lifestyle she and her family leads, managing the Red Star Guest Ranch for out-of-towners brought to Nevada by the state's allowance for relatively easy divorces. Annie's family is a few tax brackets above Ivy's, able to comfortably enjoy most of the finer amenities wealth can provide, and her evolving circle of friends is beginning to reflect this. The girls Annie is going around with are more prim and reserved than Ivy's earthy lifestyle allows her to be on a regular basis, and Annie is showing signs of preferring these sorts of friendships. With an entire summer to be spent apart when Annie attends camp with many other girls who share this new attitude of upper-crust dignity, who knows if she will still be able to relate to Ivy at the start of the new school year?
Farm animals abound on Ivy's Red Star Ranch, so she's never had a shortage of creatures to share her time with and get to know, and there's even more time to spend with them now that she doesn't have her best friend around for the summer. In three story sections (labeled Chestnut, Inca and Andromeda) divided by the animal who features most prominently in that part of the narrative, we share Ivy's days with a family of wild foxes, a puppy named Inca and a horse called Andromeda. Animals so different from one another can be surprisingly similar in their level of dependence on humans like Ivy, and she has to carefully distinguish between the types of assistance that should be offered each animal. Foxes aren't like horses or puppies; their wildness must be respected and regarded warily, for an injured fox is a dangerous enemy if one infringes on its personal space. More dangerous still is a hurt fox with its kits, programmed by instinct to guard them at cost of her own life by tearing mercilessly with her knifelike teeth until the threat has abated. If one can get past the fox's innate distrust to administer healing to its wounds, there is also the danger to consider of teaching a wild creature to be friendly with humans, many of whom would slay a fox on sight for the bounty offered by the local game authority. Can Ivy tend to the fox's grievous hurts without risking herself or the animal's longterm well-being? A horse and a dog can be treated more casually than an injured fox, but domestic animals come with their own list of concerns, such as training them correctly to live in amicable relation with humans. With multiple fine-tuned skills sets needed to interact properly with the animals around her, how is Ivy to keep straight the demands on her time and talents?
Ivy doesn't think about someday becoming a veterinarian until Dr. Rinaldi asks for her assistance in reaching the fox mother with medical care before time runs out from the infection ravaging her injured body. Ivy steps in and helps where others couldn't or wouldn't, performing essential tasks most would be scared to try with a snarling fox close by in full-on defensive mode. Dr. Rinaldi recognizes the gentle touch Ivy has with the terrified wild animal, sees the care with which she handles a creature that can't recognize it is being given life-sustaining treatment, and speaks his opinion that Ivy could have a future in veterinary medicine. Ivy isn't content to thoughtlessly follow trails taken by others, choosing her way in life because that's what is there and it's easier than trying to figure out where she really fits. As Dr. Rinaldi tells her, "Most people are driven by what other people expect. You've got a purpose of your own." It's this purpose that won't let her act differently to impress Annie or her wealthy friends, or bow to the teasing of Billy Joe Butterworth, whose family lives and works on the Red Star Ranch the same as Ivy's. It's also this purpose that refuses to accept that any animal's life isn't worth saving, that a mother fox and its babies are less deserving of life because of their predatory tendencies. Veterinary medicine isn't a common career in 1949, and for a girl to become a doctor is even more rare, but Ivy is willing to challenge these norms someday if that's what it takes, if she decides caring for sick and wounded animals is what she is meant to do.
So Ivy starts a petsitting business and prints up flyers, first to earn enough money to buy a special token of friendship for Annie while she's away at camp to let her know Ivy is thinking of her, and then to raise funds for her own eventual college education in veterinary science. Ivy's flyers don't create an avalanche of enthusiastic responses, but there are a few townspeople who could use a girl like her to watch over their animals. One of these animals is Chestnut, a horse owned by Mr. and Mrs. Pratt on the far side of the mountain pass. The Pratts pay well and Ivy loves spending time with Chestnut; what job could be better for her? In the words of Mrs. Pratt when Ivy tells her she would happily watch Chestnut for free even if she weren't being paid, "That's the best kind of work, isn't it? The kind you'd do anyway, for nothing." Bearing responsibility for Chestnut doesn't have to be a lark for Ivy to enjoy the job; she loves her time with the horse even when it's hard work, when acting responsibly means turning down opportunities to have fun in the interest of following through with her commitments. That's how Ivy realizes for sure she is suited to a career taking care of animals, because she wants to do it even when more entertaining options arise.
"You do what you have to, even when it's the last thing you want to do", Dr. Rinaldi says to Ivy during a conversation about what it takes to be a veterinarian, and this surely embodies Ivy's own philosophy for watching over animals. When Ivy has to choose between a skiing excursion with Annie and her family in the soaring mountains of Colorado, or sticking to her agreement to watch a horse named Andromeda while its owner is away, Ivy knows she can't walk away from her responsibilities because a better offer came along. People are counting on her, and so is Andromeda. A simple life protecting animals few others would go to such lengths to serve isn't usually a glamorous one, but it's the life Ivy is leaning toward. Her time as best friends with Annie feels like it's coming to an end, and with it an important chapter in Ivy's life is also concluding, the ink used to write of their once-cherished relationship almost bone dry as the pen of fate etches a final few spidery paragraphs. There are different futures ahead for Ivy and Annie, neither one bad, but with little chance for mingling between two such diverse stations in society. Ivy's niche is in the rustic countryside with her beloved animals, and maybe it always will be. When you pine so strongly for the dog you're sure was meant to belong to you, as Ivy feels about little Inca the German Shepherd pup after helping for weeks to train him, or give your all to save the life of a horse in dire straits from an injury incurred through the fault of its willful, selfish owner, you have to know you were meant to share your life with animals. A life of true contentment is no fool's paradise, not when you've found happiness where few others would deign to look. The life Ivy plans for herself is a nice one, with an awful lot of happiness to offer, and she's ready to begin living it to the full. How many can say they are so blessed to be doing what they love?
The foundational idea of Ivy Takes Care is that the expectations of outsiders is not an absolute blueprint for life that must be followed. If you feel different from your peers, then your goals and ultimate scenario for living in happiness will probably not be the same as theirs, so choosing to branch off from the main stream is by no means an indulgent whim. That may be the only logical decision to make if you're to find happiness, living to serve others effectively because humans are happiest when their abilities go to helping other living beings. There is sadness in Ivy Takes Care, sadness at the unexpected changes wrought in a life of continual unpredictability, when friendships meant to last forever die a quick, painful death, or suffer quietly for a long while before disappearing, as if they never existed. There is no satisfactory solution when best friends come to the point where what they want is no longer congruent, and they don't have the time or desire to tarry any longer in each other's idea of a rewarding life. But there is always another tomorrow, and the promise that it will dawn no less brightly for even the saddest events imaginable of the prior day, and that is the hope we are left with at the end of this book. Will Ivy fulfill her ambition of becoming a veterinarian when she's older? We can't know for sure, but she's content today to be working toward that future in every little way she can, and for now, that's enough. One can never do more than live each day that much closer to where one wants to be, and that's what Ivy is doing, no matter how the future develops. I hope we all have the patience and sincerity of purpose to do the same. I would probably give two and a half stars to Ivy Takes Care, and I see it being a memorable story for readers of either gender for as long as it continues finding its way into young hands.