Popping into the surgery was a huge mistake.
It hadn’t felt like one when I’d walked down from the mountains in the early afternoon. Part of my role as the island’s vet was caring for wild creatures, as well as the farm animals and domesticated pets. Today’s task had been finding the homes of Doughnut’s less friendly inhabitants.
I’d noted that the seal population on the westerly beaches was thriving. The signs warning tourists to keep their distance were well maintained, so I suspected someone other than my predecessor had been keeping an eye on the blubbery grey lumps sprawled across one of the island’s hard to reach beaches.
I updated records on the nesting places of skylarks and hunted down evidence of hares and rabbits. Fox, hedgehog, and badger prints confirmed that the nocturnal animals of the island were alive and well.
The furthest I trekked was over to the northern cliff-faces that hosted a couple of white-tailed eagles. I’d laid on the grass with a pair of binoculars wedged over my eyes as they swooped back and forth from their nest. They were huge, their black wings clear against the light blue sky.
White-tailed eagles had been hunted to extinction across the United Kingdom but reintroducing them into the wild had gone well in Scotland. Since their territories spanned miles, Doughnut could only host one pair.
It was amazing to witness them caring for their young, whose heads occasionally peeked out of the nest built into the side of the cliff. In London, I hadn’t had much to do with birds. Most of my time was spent with pampered dogs and cats. No one in the bustling city cared about the pigeons who hobbled about on misshapen claws.
Despite laying on my belly and watching the eagles for longer than was strictly necessary to ascertain they were healthy, I’d walked back to the village much earlier than I’d expected to. It had seemed like a good idea to nip into the surgery since I had a couple of hours to spare before dinner at Bonnie and Joshua’s, and not just because staying away from home meant no accidental bumping into Kit. I had back-to-back appointments over the next few days. It made sense to get acquainted with the surgery beforehand and make sure the previous vet had left it in an acceptable state.
I’d been pleasantly surprised. The island’s farm, pygmy goats, and wildlife records might have been neglected, but the surgery was clean and well-ordered. All the medication was in date and the packs of tools were sterilised. The records were easy to decipher and the diary on the computer was up to date.
I was refilling a jar of dog treats on the counter when there was a knock. My heart sank as I turned to find an anxious face peering through the glass at the top of the door.
The vet’s surgery was at the back of a cottage a few doors down from Kit’s bookshop. The front of the ground floor was taken up with the island’s combined optician and dentist. A narrow alley down the side lead to the surgery.
I didn’t think I’d been spotted as I slipped between the cottages and hurriedly dipped inside. I was wrong.
Dread rising, I turned the lock. Before I could explain I was doing a tidy of the surgery today but would meet with furry patients tomorrow, the woman bustled inside.
‘I’m so glad to have caught you.’ In her arms, a white cat squirmed. ‘I’m worried about Precious.’
I had a choice in that moment. I could have turned Precious’s owner away, been firm and stuck to the surgery’s allocated opening hours.
That didn’t feel like an option when faced with a concerned pet owner.
‘Bring Precious through.’ I led the way to the examination room.
I might not have been seen sneaking into the surgery, but there was no way the steady stream of pet lovers waltzing down the alley wouldn’t be. Each time I escorted a reassured owner and their beloved furry friend out of the examination room, the crowd in the waiting area had grown.
I didn’t bother checking the clock after the time I should have arrived at Bonnie and Joshua’s cottage for dinner had passed. I led the seventh dog I’d checked over only to conclude they were fine out to the waiting room.
The crowd had swelled. I wondered if bursting into frustrated tears would make them go away.
‘Who’s next?’ I asked, then followed a woman cradling a pair of guinea pigs into the examination room.
I would never stop loving people who cared about their pets. There was nothing worse than someone who neglected an animal who depended on them for basic care. The people currently ruining my evening were the best kind of people.
I still wished they would go away, especially after reassuring the guinea pig owner that it was perfectly normal for her small friends to jump and whistle when excited.
I opened the door. ‘It’s called popcorning.’
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, as she walked out into the waiting room.
I took a deep breath, and followed her.
‘Oh.’
Only a single chair was occupied. Kit had one leg crossed over the other, his arms folded. He was wearing a bright yellow jumper and pink scarf that would have looked ridiculous on me but seemed cheery on him.
‘You got rid of them?’ I checked, unsure if I was having a lack-of-dinner induced hallucination.
Kit stood. ‘Yes. To be clear, I checked first that none of their pets were in genuine peril, but I thought they could wait until their appointments to make sure it’s normal for their dog to itch or their cat to throw up in their shoes. As a cat owner, I know that at least one of those is frighteningly ordinary.’
