in Cherrywood Green, a small mature estate on the Dublin road side of town.
She hated having to drag Ellie the eight or so miles to the shelter in Enniskerry but there was simply no time to call on her mother to babysit. Ellie normally loved ‘helping out’ but with such an emergency neither Alma nor Olivia would have much time to humour a little girl.
“It’s not Angel is it, Mummy?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide as Olivia helped her into her coat. An elderly abandoned dachshund, Angel had been at the centre for sixteen months, and the little dog and Ellie had formed a special bond within seconds of setting eyes upon one another.
Olivia knew that Ellie would have mixed feelings should poor Angel ever be rehomed. As would Olivia herself. Every dog, cat, pony and ferret had a special place in the hearts of all the employees and volunteers of Paws & Tails Refuge Centre.
“No this little fella has just been brought in,” she explained, closing the front door behind them and hurrying Ellie towards the car. “Alma thinks he was hit by a car.”
This poor dog wouldn’t be the first or indeed the last hit-and-run victim upon which Olivia had operated. She’d been working at the centre for years, having gone there not long after she and Peter bought a house in a Dublin suburb close by, originally intending to spend some time there before something better came along.
But having witnessed the incredible dedication of the staff and volunteers, as well as the unfortunate condition of the abandoned and neglected animals, she had been unable to leave, despite Peter’s insistence that she would never make any money. That wasn’t the reason she’d become a vet in the first place, Olivia had argued. Yes, she could make a fortune in private practice in the city but why not use her skills on those poor animals that really needed it? Wasn’t that what vets were for at the end of the day? Peter, who at the time was struggling on his junior radiologist wages, couldn’t believe that she could be so unaffected by money – or in this case, the lack thereof.
But for Olivia, it could never have been any other way. As Peter had said many times himself over the years, if she hadn’t continued working at the centre, she would have been “taking in and fostering every Tom, Dick and Fido that looked any way miserable”.
Once Ellie had come along though, Olivia had to reduce her hours and now worked only a three-day week and occasional emergencies when Rick, the full-time vet was unavailable. This was one of those times.
“You’ll save him, Mummy, I know you will,” Ellie said, her tone revealing utmost confidence in her mother’s veterinary skills. “You always save them – every one of them.”
Pulling out onto the Dublin road, Olivia bit her lip, and marvelled at the blind and innocent trust of four-year-olds. Because Olivia knew well that, for all her talents, she hadn’t been able to save every one of them – and notwithstanding her medicinal know-how, she certainly hadn’t been able to use it when it mattered the most.
There had been an emergency that day too Olivia thought sadly, her mind recalling that heartbreaking evening all those years ago. In fact, if there hadn’t been an emergency, she would have been home on time and things might have been totally different. If only that poor Labrador hadn’t swallowed that chicken bone and needed an emergency operation to remove it. If only she’d been home when she thought she’d be. If only, if only, if only ...
T hat day she’d been feeling utterly shattered. Her feet had been killing her and even though it was only early afternoon, she was really looking forward to getting home. Especially on that day.
It had all gone wrong from the second she arrived that morning. Unusually for Olivia she’d arrived at the centre ten minutes late – but although she wasn’t sure of it at the time, she’d been late for a very good reason.
A short visit to her doctor at