Page 2 of Vetted for Vengeance
“For a dog of that age, there will be risks. There is a twenty percent chance she won't survive the operation, and a ten percent chance she won't tolerate life with just one kidney.”
I tell every owner there is a fifteen to twenty percent risk with an operation, from cat spays to full laparotomies, but Poppy will be a little riskier. However I have been suitably dramatic for the camera, making it all sound like life or death, something I would never say to the actual owner.
“And cut,” Stan calls. “Well, that's a wrap for today.”
And we're done.
It's not bad work, really. My veterinary hospital gets paid a regular consultation fee for all appointments, plus I earn my filming fee for any case the production team picks to focus on for the episode. Now they will pack up here and go to visit Gladys. Laura goes with them; she's a qualified veterinary nurse employed by the film crew to support the owners during home visits.
Laura will sit with Gladys to discuss the operation and the risks during the same visit as they walk around, but it will be shown separately. I already know we are going to have the operation on Thursday. We'll film five surgeries for the series on the same day. But for now, both my veterinary work and my acting time are over. By the time this actually airs in viewers’ living rooms, Poppy will be well on her road to recovery.
I find the behind-the-scenes side of filming fascinating. They can compress and stretch the perception of time as they wish, like rearranging organs in an abdomen to suit their narrative.
Chapter two
Noah
The distant yapping of dogs is my constant companion when they know I’m in the meal prep room. Food is the highlight of an otherwise very boring life for them. Each metal bowl has a measured amount weighed into it, then placed in order on my trolley.
I start with the dogs in the smallest kennel block. Those waiting to come into heat. When I leave the meal prep room, my metal trolley rattles along the corridor, one wheel never quite spinning right. The barking fades, replaced by snuffling sounds from noses pressed eagerly against the bars. I’ve become a master at feeding quickly with one hand, leaving the other free for stroking desperate heads while I top up their food and water. The larger kennels at the end hold the two males. I allow ten minutes per dog, even though they’d take strokes all day if they could.
Next are the pregnant dogs, in slightly larger kennels, but still just as sparse. Each of the breeding bitches has their foodincreased for the duration of their pregnancy and while nursing, and I know which stage each dog is in.
I walk along the row where each dog stands at the metal bars, nose pressed through, tails wagging like crazy. I work my way down the row, giving each dog a tickle before pushing her bowl under the door. I tell each of them what good girls they are, but my heart catches on Bitch Four. She's getting older, and this pregnancy is taking a toll on her. Twelve puppies, according to her ultrasound. I know what that does to a body like hers. It's a lot for her to carry. She’s heavy now, her body stretched tight with the strain. These days I'm lucky if I get a tail wag.
“You're so close, Honey,” I remind her, giving her more fuss between her ears. “Sixty-two days down. Not long now.”
It's a small consolation for the old girl. She still has to deliver the pups, and then nurse them for eight weeks. I refuse to dwell on what comes after. I don't want to know what Frank and Derek do with the dogs when they're too old to breed. We just need a stress-free labor this time, and I won't let myself think about what comes after. I'm a little worried about delivery; she's an experienced whelper, but twelve is a lot of little packages to deliver.
I know everything there is to know about dog pregnancy after eight years stuck in a place like this, but the impressive title of Puppy Socialization and Integration Specialist doesn't match the reality of my job. I took the job thinking I’d be playing with puppies and didn't understand what a puppy farm was until I was on their payroll.
Now I'm stuck here, trying to give twenty-six dogs the best care I can because leaving wouldn’t change anything. I'd be unemployed, and the dogs would rely on the uncaring brothers. Footsteps echo down the concrete floor towards me beforeDerek leans into the kennel wing. “I'm heading home to start dinner.”
“Right-oh.” I force a grin. The board and lodgings that came with this job is just the spare bedroom in the house on site belonging to Frank and Derek. What sounded impressive; free board and lodging, just means around-the-clock work in reality.
The CCTV in the whelping kennel is linked to my phone. Hourly checks will fill my nights until Honey delivers.
“You're going to be a good girl, aren't you, Honey?” I give her a last fuss as she gets her nose in my way. Fluffing up her bed will help her sleep, but she'd rather have tickles.
Giving up on making any progress with her bed, I sit on the floor and let her climb into my lap. Tickling her ear, my other hand rested on her belly, feeling the little rolls of movement from the puppies inside. Still as active as yesterday, which means I probably should stay in bed tonight. She isn't showing any signs of labor.
“What do you think you're doing?” Frank's voice snaps from the doorway. “This isn't a petting zoo, boy.”
“I'm just taking five minutes to check for signs of labor,” I call back. “But we're looking good for one more night of cooking these little dumplings.”
“Whatever. Emmerdale will be on soon and I'm not missing it because you're slow to get your chores done.”
“I'll get it done. You know I'm reliable.”
“Reliable, yes, but too much of a softy.”
“I can be kind and productive.”
He huffed and left the doorway, heading towards the kennel kitchen. Honestly, it’s easier when the brothers just leave me to it. A sleeping bag on the prep room floor would suit me just as well as the guest room with those two bullies.
“Don't you worry, Honey, you deserve an extra five minutes of tickle time this close to your due date. You're going to have to share me with those puppies once they join us.”
But an extra five minutes is all I have time for. I still have the nursing block to feed, and that is the most time-consuming but rewarding of all.
