Page 70 of Never Too Late to Date

Vicky rushed to the dog’s side and pulled open the little trapdoor to stroke her.

‘Shhh, Dolly. You have to stay calm.’

Vicky submitted to a thorough licking of her hand. Dolly’s little pink tongue was working overtime, and she was also managing to thump her tail against the floor of the cage.

‘Clever girl. I know, I know. You’re pleased to see me. I’ve only been away for a matter of minutes, so don’t you dare make out you’re lonely, because I have it on good authority that you’ve had a stream of visitors all morning.’

The news of Dolly’s accident had spread fast, and nearly every one of the volunteers had been in for a look and a stroke. It might have been only two days since the dog had been admitted, but she’d made a lot of friends in a short time.

Her most attentive friend was a tiny black cat, who looked a little like a mini-Batman, with his pointy ears and darker circles around his yellow eyes. His name had been chosen by fellow volunteer Graham. Each of the volunteers took it in turns to name an animal, which was then photographed and put on social media by Maria in a bid to attract those wanting to adopt a pet or donate. Graham had named him Bruce, after Batman’s alias: Bruce Wayne, the wealthy playboy industrialist who put on his cape and tights to fight evil. The thought of Graham in tights with his underpants on the outside wasn’t a pleasant one, but the cat was a sweetie. And the name suited him.

Bruce was fascinated by Dolly and any chance he got he’d sneak in when the clinic door was open and sit as near to the dog as he could. Sometimes he’d jump right up onto the table and try to shove his paw through the wire mesh. There was plenty of miaowing and barking going back and forth. Vicky couldn’t decide if it was friendly fire or not, but they both seemed to enjoy it.

Dolly had stopped licking Vicky’s hand and was now giving her what Vicky would describe as a pleading look.

‘Do you want me to sing some more Dolly Parton? Is that what you want? I’ve got to do your checks in a minute and give you some more antibiotics. I suppose we could combine the two things if you insist.’

With a thermometer in hand, Vicky sang the first lines of ‘Nine to Five’, becoming louder and louder as she got towards the chorus.

‘Sorry if it’s a little cold on your bottom, sweetheart. I’ll sing really loud in this bit.’

Dolly’s weak yelp was drowned out by Vicky ‘pouring herself a cup of ambition’.

She held the instrument up to the light to check the temperature.

‘All normal, Dolly. Well done.’

Bruce appeared at her feet and wound himself round her legs.

‘How did you get in, my little superhero? I can’t stroke you until I’ve washed this and put it back in the steriliser and given your little mate her antibiotics, but I’ll bet you’d like some singing too, wouldn’t you?’

‘Working nine till five…’

Not that she was. That was the beauty of the sanctuary. She wasn’t in an office, a hospital or even her marital home under anyone’s strict timetable anymore. Now she was no longer a newbie; the volunteers agreed between themselves who did what, and she could swim in the sea after lunch for as long as she liked. Best of all, there were no bossy doctors telling her what to do.

Adding an extra twirl, Vicky came face to face with Alex.

‘Aaaargh!’

The mystery of Bruce’s clinic visit was solved.

‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.’

‘I was hardly sneaking. And I didn’t want to interrupt your beautiful singing.’

He kept a straight face. Her singing wasn’t bad, but she wouldn’t call it beautiful. It wasn’t on Suzie’s level.

‘Well, you scared me.’

Alex put both hands up.

‘Sorry. Just coming to see my patient. Have you given her the antibiotics yet?’

Give me a chance; I only finished my actual job and came in here five minutes ago is what she really wanted to say. But Alex was giving his time for free, and Dolly needed him.

‘Not yet.’

‘Let’s get her out on the table together. With you to hold her, we can keep her stable and get the antibiotics into her quicker.’