Read Online Vet on the Loose by Gillian Hick - Free Book Online

words didn’t console me as we headed into a fairly rundown estate and I mentally rehearsed the horrors of not being able to find a vein, or of blowing a vein, or of the dog, or the owner, or both, getting hysterical.
    I could have been forgiven for thinking that there was a mini street-festival going on as we reached the last house in the cul-de-sac. An array of old motorbikes and clapped-out bangers filled the narrow road. I had to park at the far end and make my way up behind Mikey and Joe as they carried Bruno through the crowds.
    ‘These are de lads dat ’ad de whip around to do the job,’ explained Joe, seeing my bewildered face. ‘Dey all wanted to be in on it.’
    There was just about room for me to squeeze in beside Bruno as he lay up on the kitchen table, looking slightly bewildered by his new-found, elevated status within the community.
    I passed over the lead from the electric clippers. Enthusiastic hands somehow managed to pull it to the nearest socket without strangling anyone.
    With Bruno’s vein clipped and my syringe loaded, I stood poised over the aged dog, grateful, at least, that he seemed to be enjoying life to the end. Mikey whipped a piece of well-worn elastic out of his pocket and handed it to me knowingly as I went to raise the vein. I tied the band around the leg and waited for the vein to pop up at me. I poked at the hardened skin, trying to differentiate the muscles from the vessels and although I could name not only the individual muscles but also their nerve and blood supplies, I couldn’t for the life of me find the vein.
    An expectant hush fell on my audience as I untied the elastic and clipped a bit more, first right and then left of the initial area. This time, I thought I could finally feel the vein and holding my breath, I poked the needle in the general direction, waiting for the gush of rich blood. Bruno didn’t flinch. I peered at the needle, willing some blood to appear, but nothing happened.
    ‘Has ’e got any blood in ’im at all, den?’ asked one of the onlookers, breaking the tension as a roar of laughter broke out.
    ‘Well, he’s very old, you see, and with his weak heart and that, his veins are collapsed,’ I told them, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.
    I aimed the needle again and this time, not a gush, but a trickle of blood oozed out from the hub of the needle.
    Trying to steady my shaking hands, I pushed the needle in fully before attaching the loaded syringe. Slowly, I depressed the plunger, waiting for the head to drop and the wagging tail to quieten. A second later, a bubble appeared at what should have been the vein and Bruno looked over as though to see what I was at. The vein had blown.
    With an impending sense of doom, I withdrew my needle.
    ‘Is tha’ it, den? Is tha’ ’im done?’
    I looked down at the syringe and saw that only two millilitres had gone out of the 20-millilitre syringe. Bruno looked as bright as ever.
    ‘Eh, no, I don’t think that will do. His vein is so weak – we’ll have to try the other one.’
    Despite the situation, I could only be grateful that Bruno seemed to be enjoying the whole event and that the owners were far from distraught. Carefully, I clipped the vein on the opposite leg, trying not to think about what I would do if this one blew as well.
    The silence fell again as, for the third time, I inserted the needle, this time poking blindly at anything that could possibly resemble a vein. A panic started to rise in me before I heard a voice behind me.
    ‘D’ye wan’ me te have a go, luv? I’m good at these.’
    A murmer of assent rippled through the room.
    ‘Yeah, good on ye, Paddy!’
    ‘Give yer wan a break.’
    Coming over from behind, Paddy took the needle from me as I stepped back in a daze, wondering about the implications of allowing a client to inject a ‘Veterinary Surgeon Only’ medication.
    With practised skill, he adjusted the elastic tie, had a quick feel of the area, spat on