The Village Vet

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Yes, tea dances for the over-eighties.’ Fifi shakes her head slowly. ‘Your uncle couldn’t cope with the idea of partygoers’ undertaking drunken antics among the gnomes, and I couldn’t stand the strain of watching him getting more and more stressed out.’

  ‘What kind of balls do you go to, Fifi?’ I ask, pretending to be appalled. ‘They sound completely wild.’

  ‘Someone always ends up dancing on the table,’ she begins, tilting her head to one side. ‘You’re so staid, Tessa. Don’t you ever have any fun?’ She hesitates. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve been through so much recently. That was tactless of me’ – she laughs at herself – ‘as ever.’

  The ‘having fun’ gene must have skipped a generation, I muse, thinking of my parents’ antics, the pyjama parties, murder mysteries and post-panto celebrations.

  ‘I’ll make sure you let your hair down. We’ll find you a dress and some decent heels, and a handsome man to accompany you. Cinderella, you will go to the ball.’

  ‘Thank you, but—’

  ‘No buts. I’ll pay towards the dress and lend you a pair of shoes.’ Fifi strokes her top lip as if checking for stray whiskers. ‘I might have to leave the handsome man down to you. I’m sure Jack would be more than willing …’

  ‘Jack,’ I echo. ‘I’ll be too tied up with organising the event to take part,’ I say, but I feel a frisson of excitement at the thought of being among all those people, dressed in black tie and glamorous dresses, drinking champagne and dancing. I picture myself holding on to Jack’s arm as I greet the guests on behalf of Talyton Animal Rescue before he leads me onto the dance floor, spins me round to face him and slips his arm behind my back … Okay, I can’t imagine the next part because I can’t dance to save my life, but it involves some bodily contact – chaste bodily contact, you understand, but contact all the same.

  ‘Tessa?’ Fifi brings me back down to earth. ‘You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said. You appear to be terribly distracted.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m back …’

  Fifi gazes at me, bemused, as if to say, But you haven’t gone anywhere.

  ‘Where does the hunt hold their ball?’ I ask. ‘Couldn’t we try there?’

  ‘Alex Fox-Gifford hosts that at the Manor and, to be honest, it’s a little run-down; all very well for the horsey set, but not what I had in mind.’ My aunt leans towards me. ‘I think you should call the hotel in Talymouth, the one on the seafront that has a ballroom.’

  ‘Won’t that be too expensive?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to say,’ Fifi says, exasperation etched across her face. ‘You should ring them to find out how much it is per head and check availability in September. It would be such a coup if we got that venue. Go on, Tessa. Call them now.’

  I have to deal with it when I return to the Sanctuary, however, because Jack phones me to let me know he’s on his way there, having picked up Tia the dog, and I have all the keys. My aunt drops me off, giving me time to give the baby birds their afternoon tea before Jack arrives about twenty minutes later.

  ‘Tessa, I’ve brought you a new resident, but judging by the look of her, I don’t think she’s going to last very long. She’s pretty ancient,’ Jack says brightly, looking out of the open window of the van and slapping the outside of the door with the palm of his hand in rhythm to the music playing on the radio.

  ‘So this is Tia,’ I say as Jack hands me the paperwork. I scan down the form that Tia’s owner’s daughter has completed on her behalf.

  ‘The old lady has lost her marbles so the daughter has power of attorney. It’s all above board …’ Jack pauses. ‘I don’t hold out any hope of you finding a home for this poor old thing. I almost stopped at Otter House on the way to have a chat with Maz or Emma, but I thought you’d better have a look first.’

  It’s one of the reasons Fifi took me on. Because I’m a vet nurse, I can make the initial assessments on every animal we take in, thereby, in some cases, saving the charity money on vet’s bills. Not in Tia’s case though.

  Jack opens the door and swings his long legs out of the van before walking around the back in a navy polo-shirt and combat trousers that fit snugly across his muscular buttocks. I try, but fail, not to look. He opens the rear doors, slips a rope lead over the dog’s head and lifts her down.

  ‘Meet the lovely Tia,’ he says.

  I approach the hugely overweight roan cocker spaniel that’s bulging with fatty lumps and bumps that shouldn’t be there, and hold out my hand to her. She sniffs it vaguely then stands with her head down and tail tucked between her legs, much like Buster did when he first arrived at the Sanctuary.

  ‘You poor old thing,’ I say gently. ‘Jack, let’s get her into kennels so I can give her the once-over.’

  ‘I wish you’d do that for me,’ Jack says, touching the small of his back. ‘I could do with a once-over. She weighs a ton.’

  ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ I tell him with mock sternness. ‘I might find I have to be cruel to be kind.’

  ‘Yes, I’d prefer you to miss out the bit with the thermometer to be honest,’ he jokes.

  Tia waddles along behind us, puffing and panting, her tongue hanging out and her overgrown nails clacking on the floor on the way to the kitchen in the kennel block. Suppressing the urge to invite Jack onto the table for a full examination and maybe a back massage, I ask him to lift the dog up for me, where she stands like a statue.

  ‘Go on then, nurse,’ Jack says, smiling. ‘Do you want me to restrain her for you?’

  ‘I don’t think she’s going anywhere fast.’ I check Tia over, examining her mouth, nose, eyes and ears. She reeks of halitosis, greasy skin and infected ears, so much that she makes me retch. ‘I’m going to have to book her in to see one of the vets. She’s in a terrible state.’

  ‘Do you think anyone will take her on, a dog of her age and in this condition?’ Jack asks tentatively. ‘She might not last much longer.’

  ‘She’s a sweet dog.’ Mild, by which I mean she has an almost non-existent persona. ‘There must be someone out there who will love her.’

  ‘That’s one of the things I like about you, Tess. You’re always so bloody optimistic,’ Jack grins.

  ‘Not always,’ I say. ‘Put her into the kennel next to the spaniels. I’ll contact Otter House to book an appointment for tomorrow. Can I have the van?’

  ‘I can take her.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. I’m happy to do it.’ To be honest, I could do with having a break from the Sanctuary. It’s more a lifestyle than a job. I stroke Tia’s floppy ear through the dense mats of hair. She can’t have been brushed for years.

  ‘I’ll drive you there,’ Jack says.

  ‘Jack, really, there’s no need. Anyway, I could do with picking up a few groceries at the same time. I’ve got a list as long as my arm of things we need for the Fun Day: drinks, a banner and balloons, which reminds me, I must get in touch with Jennie to ask her if she’ll donate some cupcakes.’

  ‘We could run up to Overdown Farmers for dog and cat food too,’ Jack says.

  I give in graciously. ‘That would be useful. Thanks.’

  ‘I’ll be here at eight.’ With one easy move, Jack wraps his arms around the dog and lifts her back down to the floor. He hands me the end of the lead and Tia follows me into the kennel where I squat down beside her and slip the rope over her head.

  ‘Good girl. I’ll get you some dinner.’ I turn to Jack, who towers above me, his combats smeared with dried mud and grass stains. ‘Do you know what she has? Dried food or tinned, or a mixture?’

  ‘I asked, but she didn’t have a clue.’ Jack folds his arms across his chest. ‘It looks as if Tia eats pretty well anything from the size of her. She’d make a handy coffee table for someone.’

  ‘Jack, that’s mean,’ I say lightly.

  ‘Sometimes you have to laugh or else you’d cry. Besides, the dog isn’t offended – I don’t think she can hear. Or see,’ he a
dds, as Tia takes a stumbling step to the left and bumps her nose on the wall.

  ‘She needs a guide dog,’ I say. I walk her out to the run and make sure she’s checked out the bowl of fresh water and the bed I’ve put together for her, a plastic one that’s raised off the ground so it’s draught-proof. She clambers stiffly onto the top of the cushion inside it, turns around a couple of times and lies down, trembling and whining, her nose tucked into her tail. ‘It’s such a shame that this had to happen to her. She’s petrified.’

  Jack hands me a crumpled tissue.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, blowing my nose. ‘I’ve got a touch of hay fever. It must have something to do with the straw I put down for the ducklings.’ I don’t know why I have to hide my feelings from Jack when he seems almost as upset for Tia as I am. ‘Do you think it’s fair to leave her in a kennel?’ I ask him. ‘I doubt she’s ever been away from home before.’

  ‘I’ll feed her, and see if she settles.’ Jack fetches a bowl of dog food, which makes Buster next door want some and he starts to bark. ‘He’s getting more confident.’

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of work with him.’

  ‘I wish someone would give me that much attention.’

  ‘Don’t I talk to you?’ I say archly.

  ‘I wasn’t just thinking of talking,’ he says, making me blush.

  I try to make light of it, continuing, ‘I’ll take you for a walk if you like now and again. You’ll have to be on a lead though!’

  ‘I wouldn’t run away, Tess,’ he says in a low voice, and although I don’t quite catch it, I think he adds, ‘I promise,’ and my heart flutters briefly like a butterfly settling on a flower.

  ‘I think Jack’s trying to seduce me, but a man’s promise doesn’t mean anything, does it?’ I say to Buster much later when I’m taking him out for one last stroll around the copse. We walk up the hillside, past the stand of conifers and mature trees, stopping at the top to look at the view of the sun setting behind the hills in the distance, and I wonder if Gloria Brambles ever came up here to do the same. It’s beautiful. Buster tenses, sniffing the air, and a deer leaps across the path only a few metres away from us before disappearing into the bushes opposite. I squat down beside Buster with my arm around his neck, considering myself to be, in spite of everything, a very lucky woman.

  How could anyone do such a thing? Hanging on to Buster by the collar as he strains to get to the crate on the doorstep the following morning, I count the heads that peer nervously out of the top. There are three of them: gorgeous puppies with floppy ears, wavy golden coats, long tails and oversized paws.

  ‘Please, Buster, leave them alone,’ I say, losing patience with him. ‘You can’t have them for breakfast and that’s that. Come on.’ I drag him away and shut him in the bedroom, so I can assess the new arrivals. They have apparently been abandoned overnight without anyone – even Buster – noticing until about ten minutes ago, when he began snuffling about at the front door.

  ‘You poor little things.’ I bring the crate indoors, worried they might jump out, but they are too confused, happy for the attention yet apprehensive, as well they might be with Buster’s style of welcome. I yell at him to stop when he starts scratching at the bedroom door, asking to be let out. He doesn’t like other dogs and he isn’t all that keen on people, but solitary confinement doesn’t suit him.

  I pick the puppies out one at a time, two girls and a boy, and give them each a cuddle, breathing their scent, which reminds me of damp earth and Marmite. They nuzzle at my hands and lick my nose, making me smile. Although their pot bellies suggest an infestation of worms, and they have a few fleas between them, overall they’re in good condition, which makes it seem even more incomprehensible that anyone could do such a thing. I glance out of the window where the clouds scud across a blue sky. At least they chose a warm night.

  I decide to take the puppies to the kennels and call the vets to see if they can give me a longer appointment this morning, but they are fully booked. It isn’t a problem though – it never is for them – and they promise to fit the puppies in with Tia.

  ‘Call yourself a guard dog,’ I tell Buster when I return to the bungalow. ‘You’re all mouth and no trousers. You didn’t make a sound last night.’ He looks up at me, all sheepish. ‘I don’t mean it,’ I say, apologising. ‘Come on, let’s go for a—’ I don’t have to say the word, because he’s off, scampering around the bungalow like a demon, leaping up and down and barking to go out. I don’t have much time before Jack turns up with the van to go to the vet’s, so I don’t bother to get dressed, taking a stroll around the paddock in my wellies and dressing gown and quickly returning Buster to his kennel, only to find Jack coming across the car park towards me.

  ‘Hi, Tess.’

  My heart sinks, because there may be some truth in my aunt’s opinion that there are times when one really should keep up one’s appearance, and this occasion might just be one of them.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ Jack says, tapping his wristwatch.

  ‘I’m all behind.’

  ‘I should say so, like the cow’s tail.’ He smiles.

  ‘We should get going,’ I say. ‘Maz will be expecting us.’

  ‘Don’t you think you ought to get dressed first?’ Jack says, amused. ‘You seem to be in a bit of a flap.’

  I explain about the new arrivals as we get ready to leave. I’m sure he can manage the trip to the vet’s by himself, but it’s a good excuse to spend time with Tia and the puppies and, if I’m honest, with Jack.

  ‘What have we here?’ Maz says, her wedding ring on a chain around her neck and a pen tucked into the pocket of her paw-print top, when we’re squeezed into the consulting room at Otter House. She looks into the crate that Jack has placed on the table. ‘A veritable squirmish of puppies? How sweet!’

  ‘Someone abandoned them on the doorstep at the Sanctuary last night,’ I say. ‘I don’t understand why Buster didn’t bark.’

  ‘You mean the black dog,’ Maz says, stroking the puppies with both hands. ‘I expect he thinks he doesn’t need to bother now he’s got his paws firmly under the table. Are you any closer to finding him a home yet?’

  ‘He lives with you, Tess,’ Jack points out when I shake my head. ‘He might as well be your dog.’

  ‘It’s part of his rehabilitation,’ I say, grinning.

  ‘Sure,’ Jack says.

  ‘I’ve heard that one before,’ Maz says, picking one of the puppies up out of the crate and hugging it to her chest. ‘You vet nurses are so predictable, making the same excuses to take unwanted animals home.’ She plants a kiss on top of the puppy’s head. ‘You won’t have any trouble finding homes for these guys. You’ll have people fighting over them.’

  ‘We have a waiting list for puppies. It’s a shame so few people are looking for adult dogs,’ I observe.

  ‘Do you know anything at all about their background?’ Maz asks.

  ‘I found a note tucked in the side of the crate. They were the last of a litter of nine and surplus to requirements. They’re seven weeks old, their mum was a cocker spaniel and their dad a Standard poodle.’

  ‘So they’re cockapoos,’ Maz says, smiling.

  ‘I can’t keep up with all these odd crosses,’ says Jack. ‘A dog is a dog, as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘It’s very fashionable at the moment,’ Maz says, ‘but it’s gets confusing when people start crossing the crosses, a cockapoo with a springador, for example. It’s supposed to reduce the incidence of breed-related genetic conditions like hereditary cataracts and hip dysplasia, but I can’t help wondering if it will end up multiplying them and making the situation worse.’

  She goes on to examine the three puppies and pronounces them fit and healthy before giving them their first vaccinations to help protect them against infectious diseases during their stay in kennels. Jack returns them to the van while I talk to Maz about Tia.

  ‘I’d be ashamed if I were her owner,’ I say as Tia plants he
r bottom heavily on my feet. ‘The elderly lady who had her has been ill, and no one in the family appears to have taken responsibility for the dog.’

  Maz suggests that we weigh her on the scales in the waiting room, where it takes the two of us to lift her on.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ Maz presses the reset button three times. ‘No, that’s right. Don’t listen, Tia,’ she goes on, turning to me, and adding in a low voice, ‘She’s gross.’

  ‘How much does she need to lose?’ I say, trying to read the display.

  ‘At least one third of her body weight, and I’d really like to see her become half the dog she is.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about her history, whether or not she’s always been overweight. Jack thought that she used to be one of Talyton Manor’s patients, but she can’t have been to see a vet for years.’

  ‘She seems a sweet enough dog – by nature I mean, not by smell. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to bring myself to kiss her.’ Maz chuckles as we take Tia waddling back to the consulting room and heave her onto the table. ‘Some of my clients think I’m mad kissing my patients.’

  She talks through her findings as she examines the dog. ‘She has a nasty infection in that ear, and her mouth is disgusting. Most of those teeth are going to have to come out. I’ll scale and polish the rest and put her on some antibiotics. We’ll give her a pedicure while she’s under anaesthetic and trim the mats from her ears, paws and tail. Maybe a bit of pampering will make her feel better.’

  ‘Thanks, Maz,’ I say, sorry that I have to leave Tia with her. ‘Best of luck, old dog,’ I tell her as one of the nurses comes to take her through to the kennels to await her dental.

  ‘I’m not intending to kill her,’ Maz says, sounding slightly affronted.

  ‘I know you’ll look after her,’ I say. She hasn’t been at the Sanctuary long – only a day – but I already feel as if she’s part of the family there, my extended family, and she’s old and not in the best of health.

  ‘Go on, Tessa,’ Maz says, smiling, ‘call after three and I’ll let you know what time you can collect her.’