16 Jun 2026
Mark Turner BVSc, MRCVS shares the ninth part of this story, in which Ali opens up about her feelings on euthanasia at work.
Image: pozdeevvs / Adobe Stock
As they walked over a footbridge, Ali looked out. A light rain was falling and everything seemed to have soft edges – even the grey tower blocks and warehouses.
She leaned her head to one side and the city’s horizon looked like a fallen down Christmas tree, twinkling in the distance. “Hmm,” she sighed quietly. Cars sped along the road below. Occasionally, she would see a driver’s face caught in the street lights – always the same expression; thoughtful, tender.
A gust of wind blew Louise’s hair back. “Whoa, I’m feeling a bit tipsy. How much further to your place, buttercup?”
“Not far now,” said Ali.
Back home, Ali jabbed a key into the front door and pushed – it opened with a sucking noise. “Sorry about the mess.”
A jumble of shoes were piled up around the stairs. “Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please, darling. You’ve got a nice place.”
Louise walked into the lounge. There were pine cones in a Victorian fireplace, and a large mirror above that. She slumped on to the sofa.
“Put your feet up,” Ali shouted from the kitchen.
“Thanks. I could get used to this.”
“Oh, no.”
“What’s up?”
“I just spilled the milk. Don’t worry, it’s under control.”
“Do you need a hand?” Lou wandered into the doorway. “Oh my God, I love your kitchen, too.”
A large photo of a young dog hung on the wall, his nose pointing into the camera. His eyes were bright, and Louise could see the happiness in them – he must be having a good day, she thought.
Ali handed her a mug, “Still fancy Bridesmaids?”
“That’s a very personal question. Well, there was a girl called Erika once…” Louise flashed Ali a cheeky smile, sticking her tongue in her cheek.
“No, not like that, I meant the film.”
“Oh, the film. Yeah, I’m up for that.”
They walked back into the living room. “So how’s it going with James, anyway?” asked Ali.
“Yeah, you know, we’re happy.”
“Do you mind me asking what he does?”
“Oh, his job… If I tell you, promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“Yes.”
“He works for the Government. It’s very hush hush. He does translating for the spooks. And with everything going on at the moment, well, I often don’t see him for days. It’s hard.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Of course, I won’t say anything. In a funny way, it sounds a bit like my work – I mean, trying to work out what my patients are saying.”
“You’ve got the toughest job in the world, Ali. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s true – particularly when the pet’s really ill.”
“Maybe.”
“I really mean it. So many things to think about – what might be wrong, what tests need to be done, which drugs to use. And that’s before you’ve had a conversation about cost, how much the owner can actually afford.”
It was as if Louise had shone a torch on a corner of the room that was dusty and neglected.
“Can I ask how it makes you feel when an owner can’t pay for treatment? When you have to speak about… euthanasia?”
“I… I don’t want to talk about it to be honest, is that okay?”
Ali paused. “It feels like I’ve failed, it feels like I’ve missed something, that if only I was a better vet… It’s a rubbish feeling.”
Louise watched as Ali’s face seemed to turn a little whiter. “Well, I think you’re amazing. What you do, I mean. You always seem so calm and collected. Like, like a miracle at work.”
“Okay, now you’re making me blush.” Ali threw a cushion. “Stop it.”
Louise caught it and hugged it hard. “Okay. I’ll change the subject.”
“Good.”
They drank tea in silence, lost in their own thoughts.
Louise looked up. “What’s your garden like?”
“The garden? Yeah, it’s nice. My landlady used to live here and looked after it. There’s a bench, a little pergola. Do you want to see it?”
Ali opened the back door and they both folded their arms against the chill. Wet leaves littered the courtyard and the flowerbeds looked empty, the occasional shrub just a tangle of bare branches. The security light clicked off and they walked further up a gravel path.
“It’ll be lovely in the summer.”
“Yeah, hope so,” said Ali.
The sky was clearing now, and the moon was bright, almost full.
“How beautiful.”
As they both watched, two shooting stars streaked through the darkness.
“Oh my god, did you see it?” whispered Ali.
“God, that was amazing. You and me, babe,” said Louise.
“Are we two shooting stars?” They were both still staring up into the night.
“Yes, hot and dangerous.”
“Yeah, you’re hot and I’m dangerous.”
And then another one, longer, brighter than the two before.
“Who was that?” asked Ali.
“Whoever you want it to be.”
Mark Turner graduated as a vet from the University of Liverpool in 1996 and has a master’s degree from the RVC in patient safety culture. He has interests in quality improvement, team dynamics and workplace well-being.