would be right up her street,’ replied Joanna, even more innocently.
‘Why
did
you become a vet, Joanna?’ I asked.
She smiled her wide, beautiful, Anne with an ‘e’ smile.
‘You know the kid at school who is always finding and bringing home birds with broken wings to try to heal them, that kind of thing. Well, I was that kid. I always wanted to be a vet. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a vet.’
She began scribbling some notes of ideas for the presentation on the paper napkins.
‘How long have I worked for you now, Scott?’ she asked.
‘Three years, four months, one week,’ he answered immediately.
‘And in all that time, I’ve never asked you what made you become a vet,’ she said, with a question mark in her tone.
‘You don’t want to hear my boring becoming-a-vet story,’ he said, draining the last of his orange juice.
‘Yes, we do,’ I replied.
He shrugged.
‘Dr Lucas,’ he said.
‘Dr Lucas,’ he repeated, more to himself than to us.
Joanna and I waited.
Scott sighed.
‘I had a golden lab when I was a teenager. Try not to snigger openly, but her name was Goldie. She followed me everywhere. She was such a loyal dog and an incredible jumper. You should have seen how far she could jump from a pier into the water. She loved swimming; she was half dog, half dolphin. When I was sixteen, soon after I got my driving license, a group of us drove across the country to Montana on a camping trip. Just a bunch of privileged Connecticut kids goofing around in the wilderness. One night when we were pretending to be men, drinking beers around the campfire that took us about half a day to get started …’ and he laughed.
‘Go on,’ said Joanna.
‘I realised Goldie was missing, so we divided into two groups and set off to find her. Poor Goldie, she had got her leg caught in a steel trap left by a poacher. When I found her,she was all matted with blood and, despite her tremendous pain, when I knelt beside her, she just gave a little whimper and licked my hand.’
He paused for a minute, remembering.
‘We cut straight through that steel trap and I ran with her in my arms back to the car and set off looking for a vet. You have to remember this was late at night in the middle of nowhere. I stopped at the nearest gas station for directions. The woman there looked at me as if I was crazy to be out of my mind over just a dog. But she said, “Try old Lucas in the next town over,” and she gave me directions.’
‘I arrived at a dilapidated, clapboard cabin, all peeling paint with a rusted car in the front and heaps of junk all over the lawn. I ran up the steps to his porch and kept my finger on that bell until I heard someone yelling, “Alright, alright, no need to wake up the dead. I’m coming,” and this old man opened the door.’
‘He looked in bad shape, more like a homeless drug addict than a vet. He had a vest on that could have been white once, with gaping holes and some kind of dark pants held up by braces. His hair was long and grey and matted and he had a grey beard with bits of barbeque he had for dinner stuck in it. He smelt of stale beer and something else, maybe urine.’
‘He took one look at Goldie and me and said, “Bring her in, son,” and I followed him through into the back room where he saw the animals. I’ve never seen a poorer practice. He didn’t have any modern equipment at all, just a few bits and pieces that looked like they had been around since theCivil War and an ancient examining table, which had only three legs. “Put your leg there,” he grunted. And I shoved my leg against the table to keep it up.’
‘All night long, he worked on Goldie while I held up the table. He didn’t say much. He just concentrated. When dawn finally came, he straightened up and he said, “We’ve done what we can, it’s in God’s hands now.” I asked him about paying him, explaining I just had a credit card my parents had given me, and he
‘Why
did
you become a vet, Joanna?’ I asked.
She smiled her wide, beautiful, Anne with an ‘e’ smile.
‘You know the kid at school who is always finding and bringing home birds with broken wings to try to heal them, that kind of thing. Well, I was that kid. I always wanted to be a vet. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a vet.’
She began scribbling some notes of ideas for the presentation on the paper napkins.
‘How long have I worked for you now, Scott?’ she asked.
‘Three years, four months, one week,’ he answered immediately.
‘And in all that time, I’ve never asked you what made you become a vet,’ she said, with a question mark in her tone.
‘You don’t want to hear my boring becoming-a-vet story,’ he said, draining the last of his orange juice.
‘Yes, we do,’ I replied.
He shrugged.
‘Dr Lucas,’ he said.
‘Dr Lucas,’ he repeated, more to himself than to us.
Joanna and I waited.
Scott sighed.
‘I had a golden lab when I was a teenager. Try not to snigger openly, but her name was Goldie. She followed me everywhere. She was such a loyal dog and an incredible jumper. You should have seen how far she could jump from a pier into the water. She loved swimming; she was half dog, half dolphin. When I was sixteen, soon after I got my driving license, a group of us drove across the country to Montana on a camping trip. Just a bunch of privileged Connecticut kids goofing around in the wilderness. One night when we were pretending to be men, drinking beers around the campfire that took us about half a day to get started …’ and he laughed.
‘Go on,’ said Joanna.
‘I realised Goldie was missing, so we divided into two groups and set off to find her. Poor Goldie, she had got her leg caught in a steel trap left by a poacher. When I found her,she was all matted with blood and, despite her tremendous pain, when I knelt beside her, she just gave a little whimper and licked my hand.’
He paused for a minute, remembering.
‘We cut straight through that steel trap and I ran with her in my arms back to the car and set off looking for a vet. You have to remember this was late at night in the middle of nowhere. I stopped at the nearest gas station for directions. The woman there looked at me as if I was crazy to be out of my mind over just a dog. But she said, “Try old Lucas in the next town over,” and she gave me directions.’
‘I arrived at a dilapidated, clapboard cabin, all peeling paint with a rusted car in the front and heaps of junk all over the lawn. I ran up the steps to his porch and kept my finger on that bell until I heard someone yelling, “Alright, alright, no need to wake up the dead. I’m coming,” and this old man opened the door.’
‘He looked in bad shape, more like a homeless drug addict than a vet. He had a vest on that could have been white once, with gaping holes and some kind of dark pants held up by braces. His hair was long and grey and matted and he had a grey beard with bits of barbeque he had for dinner stuck in it. He smelt of stale beer and something else, maybe urine.’
‘He took one look at Goldie and me and said, “Bring her in, son,” and I followed him through into the back room where he saw the animals. I’ve never seen a poorer practice. He didn’t have any modern equipment at all, just a few bits and pieces that looked like they had been around since theCivil War and an ancient examining table, which had only three legs. “Put your leg there,” he grunted. And I shoved my leg against the table to keep it up.’
‘All night long, he worked on Goldie while I held up the table. He didn’t say much. He just concentrated. When dawn finally came, he straightened up and he said, “We’ve done what we can, it’s in God’s hands now.” I asked him about paying him, explaining I just had a credit card my parents had given me, and he
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