City Vets – Matt’s distress after euthanising a patient

“Hello, Matt.” Margaret said it without looking up – she was sat at her desk studying a sheet of paper.

“Hello there.” Matt felt a familiar need to be cheerful, to lift the clinic at the start of the day.

The atmosphere often felt sharp, stretched tight; the next crisis just a phone call away. He tucked his bag under the desk, sat down with a comical thud and clicked on the computer mouse.

“Ah, what have we got in today? Castrate, castrate, spay, spay, dental, blood test – caution, can be aggressive. Blimey, another busy one.” Margaret still seemed engrossed.

“Busy, isn’t it?” He spoke a little bit louder.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Margaret looked around.

“Good to keep busy, as my old man used to say.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Margaret’s gaze dropped.

“Erm, right, better make a start.”

“Okay. Do be careful of that dog though, Matt; he’s not to be trusted. Let me know if you need a hand.”

It had been a few days since Margaret’s row with the builders, but it still felt to him that she had changed. She seemed more thoughtful and was going a bit easier on the new vets, too: Natalia and the other one… Ali. Yes, Ali.

He smiled and said, “Thanks, Maggie,” almost catching her eye.

Back in the kennel

Downstairs, Natalia was putting a cat back in its kennel, one foot bandaged in traffic light green. She pulled a calculator from her pocket and tapped at the buttons. Sucking on her pen, she snapped open a syringe.

Bloody hell, Matt thought, up and down the country there must be a hundred, a thousand, young vets doing the same thing at this very moment. “You okay, Nat?”

“Yes, thank you. How are you?” She asked as if it was something she had been taught to say at vet school.

“All right,” he chuckled.

She looked at him quizzically.

He walked into ward to check on the day’s patients. A young black and white cat rolled on to its back and stretched long legs towards him.

“Hello, young man, and how are you today?”

The cat stood up and yawned. Its eyes were orange, the colour of a campfire from years ago. Matt checked the consent form. “Marmite, eh? Well, I happen to like Marmite.”

Marmite stared at him for a moment longer, then nonchalantly walked to the back of his cage.

“Matt, are you free?” Sharon was stood in the doorway with a phone in her hand.

“Well, I was going to start ops in a…”

“Bella Smith; the owners have just rung to say she’s getting nose bleeds now. Should I ask them to come down?”

“Christ, err, yes, I suppose so.” Matt remembered Bella, a cross-breed with a tumour in her mouth. The owners had decided not to pursue a referral; they must have just returned from a week in Devon.

“She loves the beaches down there; we can almost see the smile…” Mrs Smith had told him at their last consultation, “…and we want her to see them one last time.”

Consulting room

As Matt opened the consulting room door, he could see Bella sitting obediently by her owners. She looked thinner than he remembered, and her coat, which used to shine like a winter sun, now looked simpler – two tones of brown from a children’s painting set.

“Err, Bella Smith.” Matt found the words sticking in his throat.

“Hello… oh, we’re so glad it’s you today, Matthew. We were worried it would be someone who doesn’t know her.”

“Come in. How is she?”

“She’s… she’s not good. We got here a bit early, so we sat in the park for 10 minutes. I… I think she knows. It’s the strangest thing. I don’t know how, but I think she knows it’s the end.”

Mrs Smith was looking at Matt through old, red eyes. Eyes that had seen a lot. He knew a little about her life: a son who died fighting in the Middle East. A career in the NHS, first in accident and emergency, and then as a community nurse.

Bella was trembling. Oh, Matt thought, I wish it wasn’t me. I don’t want to put out a light in this couple’s life. As blood bloomed in the syringe, he felt something heavy in his chest. It crept up his neck.

“She’s just passing away now.”

Bella slumped on to the tabletop, the tip of her tongue appeared, and her breathing stopped. The end.

In the distance, Matt could hear Mr Smith saying, “Well done, lad.” He pulled the needle from her vein and swabbed the leg with a piece of cotton wool. He felt relief that it had all gone well, but also confusion – did I just do that? If it wasn’t for him, Bella would still be alive, that was the simple fact. Yes, she was unwell, but she would still be thinking, she would still be able to delight strangers, and dream fantasies of green fields, white clouds and swaying trees.

He wandered back into the prep room trying to collect his thoughts. He reassured himself that it was unmistakably the right thing to do. The ops list hung on the wall with a column of boxes unticked.

“Hi,” said Natalia, smiling.

“Hi Nat. Sh… shall we start with the cat castrations? If you pop Marmite out, I can give his pre-med.”

“Okay, but do you want a minute? You look a bit, how you say? Peaky.”

“Erm, do I? Right, yes, maybe.”

“You know, I mean it earlier when I ask, how are you?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry about that.”

“Silly man. I make you a cup of tea. That fixes everything, yes? Make you all right again.”

“Thanks Nat, thanks very much.”

‘It’s okay to feel sad’

Sitting in the staff room, Matthew cupped the mug in his hands.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah, definitely. That last one took it out of me a bit.” He smiled briefly.

“It’s okay to feel sad – you know that, don’t you?” Natalia said.

“Ah, but we have a saying in the UK: stiff upper lip…”

“Yes, of course I know it, and we know that you Brits can be full of… well, full of it, sometimes.”

Matthew paused. “Yeah.” He didn’t feel like debating the subject anymore, trying to defend himself. She was right, and he was wrong. Trying to repress this feeling suddenly seemed pointless. He was human, after all.

“I’ll be all right in a minute. Thank you, Natalia. Sometimes I think I can just battle on through… maybe I can’t.”

“Any time, Matty. I see you downstairs in a minute, yes?”