married to the local oyster farmer. She’s slim, blonde and freckled, and in her late twenties, quite cool in a surfer-style printed cotton dress and flat sandals. Whether I’m imagining it or not, she always seems to bring the scent of the sea with her.
‘I’ve brought everyone with me,’ she smiles. ‘I don’t want my boys and girls padding around on the floor until they’ve had all their jabs.’
‘They’re very cute,’ I say, having tried and failed to shut the door with so many people crammed into what is really a very small room. ‘How do you tell which one is which?’ To me, they are all very similar: black with wavy coats, ears and paws that are too big for their bodies, and soulful brown eyes.
‘They’re colour-coded with nail varnish. Look.’ Jan shows me the paw of the puppy she’s holding. It has one claw painted pink. ‘This is Bonnie. She’s the naughtiest of the bunch.’
‘So we know which one is which,’ I say. ‘That makes it easier. I’ll check them all over first, then inject them. That way they’ll be less likely to upset each other.’
I examine each puppy, one at a time. Shannon takes notes for me on the computer.
‘They’re great, Jan. All fit and healthy,’ I pronounce, before looking towards Shannon who’s squatting down, almost inside the fridge under the workbench, pulling out box after box of vaccine. ‘Shannon, is there some problem?’ I ask, with a growing sense of unease.
‘Um, I’m not sure. Let me go and look in the fridge in Kennels.’ Shannon stands up and straightens her uniform. Her cheeks are red, her expression anxious.
‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ I say, when she disappears through the door into the rest of the practice. ‘There must have been a mix-up when they unpacked the delivery.’ It would be a first though, I think to myself. I know Shannon’s been allowed to check the deliveries, but I can’t imagine Izzy allowing any mistake to slip through.
Suddenly, I hear Izzy’s voice and the sound of feet pounding back along the corridor towards the consulting room.
‘It’s no good, Shannon. There’s no excuse for this. How many times have I told you to check and double-check? You’ll have to apologise. Maz …’ Izzy hesitates as she comes in. ‘I didn’t realise you wanted the vaccine right now, this minute.’
‘So there’s no puppy vaccine in the practice?’ I surmise. I turn to Jan. ‘I’m so sorry about this, especially as you’ve all been inconvenienced.’ I think quickly. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to rebook you. Naturally, there’ll be a discount.’
‘I should hope so. It’s a real pain,’ Jan says. ‘I wanted to get this lot vaccinated, and out and about as soon as possible.’
Jan and her entourage return to make another ultra-long appointment with Frances, while I head for the staffroom where Izzy is continuing her rather one-sided discussion with Shannon. Izzy is understandably furious because it reflects on her as head nurse. Steam rises from a cup of coffee beside the kettle . Metaphorical steam is coming out of Izzy’s ears.
‘You’re lucky,’ Izzy says. ‘Frances says Old Fox-Gifford used to throw his mug at her, if anything went wrong.’ Frances used to work for Talyton Manor Vets – Old Fox-Gifford accused Otter House of poaching her, and I don’t think he’s really ever forgiven us. ‘What did go wrong, Shannon?’
‘There’ll be time for the inquest later,’ I cut in. ‘Shannon made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.’ It’s a shame it had to be this one because we need that vaccine. I’ve rechecked the list of clients booked in for the rest of the day, and there are three, if not four, more dogs for their annual jabs. We need to get hold of some dog vaccine, otherwise I’ll have to cancel, and that is going to be expensive, and have a knock-on effect on bookings for the rest of the week. We’re lucky in that we’re always fully booked, fitting in extra patients when they
‘I’ve brought everyone with me,’ she smiles. ‘I don’t want my boys and girls padding around on the floor until they’ve had all their jabs.’
‘They’re very cute,’ I say, having tried and failed to shut the door with so many people crammed into what is really a very small room. ‘How do you tell which one is which?’ To me, they are all very similar: black with wavy coats, ears and paws that are too big for their bodies, and soulful brown eyes.
‘They’re colour-coded with nail varnish. Look.’ Jan shows me the paw of the puppy she’s holding. It has one claw painted pink. ‘This is Bonnie. She’s the naughtiest of the bunch.’
‘So we know which one is which,’ I say. ‘That makes it easier. I’ll check them all over first, then inject them. That way they’ll be less likely to upset each other.’
I examine each puppy, one at a time. Shannon takes notes for me on the computer.
‘They’re great, Jan. All fit and healthy,’ I pronounce, before looking towards Shannon who’s squatting down, almost inside the fridge under the workbench, pulling out box after box of vaccine. ‘Shannon, is there some problem?’ I ask, with a growing sense of unease.
‘Um, I’m not sure. Let me go and look in the fridge in Kennels.’ Shannon stands up and straightens her uniform. Her cheeks are red, her expression anxious.
‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ I say, when she disappears through the door into the rest of the practice. ‘There must have been a mix-up when they unpacked the delivery.’ It would be a first though, I think to myself. I know Shannon’s been allowed to check the deliveries, but I can’t imagine Izzy allowing any mistake to slip through.
Suddenly, I hear Izzy’s voice and the sound of feet pounding back along the corridor towards the consulting room.
‘It’s no good, Shannon. There’s no excuse for this. How many times have I told you to check and double-check? You’ll have to apologise. Maz …’ Izzy hesitates as she comes in. ‘I didn’t realise you wanted the vaccine right now, this minute.’
‘So there’s no puppy vaccine in the practice?’ I surmise. I turn to Jan. ‘I’m so sorry about this, especially as you’ve all been inconvenienced.’ I think quickly. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to rebook you. Naturally, there’ll be a discount.’
‘I should hope so. It’s a real pain,’ Jan says. ‘I wanted to get this lot vaccinated, and out and about as soon as possible.’
Jan and her entourage return to make another ultra-long appointment with Frances, while I head for the staffroom where Izzy is continuing her rather one-sided discussion with Shannon. Izzy is understandably furious because it reflects on her as head nurse. Steam rises from a cup of coffee beside the kettle . Metaphorical steam is coming out of Izzy’s ears.
‘You’re lucky,’ Izzy says. ‘Frances says Old Fox-Gifford used to throw his mug at her, if anything went wrong.’ Frances used to work for Talyton Manor Vets – Old Fox-Gifford accused Otter House of poaching her, and I don’t think he’s really ever forgiven us. ‘What did go wrong, Shannon?’
‘There’ll be time for the inquest later,’ I cut in. ‘Shannon made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.’ It’s a shame it had to be this one because we need that vaccine. I’ve rechecked the list of clients booked in for the rest of the day, and there are three, if not four, more dogs for their annual jabs. We need to get hold of some dog vaccine, otherwise I’ll have to cancel, and that is going to be expensive, and have a knock-on effect on bookings for the rest of the week. We’re lucky in that we’re always fully booked, fitting in extra patients when they
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