Page 123 of The Vet from Snowy River
Grey cat’s eyes were closed, but her sides heaved in distress. A low sound escaped her mouth, nothing like the tractor purr she used when she was content; this sound was terrible. It spoke of pain, and loss, and suffering. Vera recognised herself in it: her pain, her loss, her suffering.
‘She needs help,’ she whispered.
‘Vera?’ Graeme’s voice was worried behind her.
‘She needs help!’ She all but shrieked the words. ‘Get Josh. Please. And run.’
Her friend’s booted feet pounded down the street as Vera bent her head to the cat’s.
‘Hang on, girl. Hang on. Help’s coming.’
The cat’s breathing was rough. Vera pulled off her gloves and rested her fingers, as gently as she could, between the cat’s soft grey ears. There was no blood that she could see, but the cat’s back legs looked loose, somehow, as though her muscles had given way. She’d known grey cat was wandering—why had she done nothing about it?
She could do something now, but what? God, she’d never felt so useless. A box—yes. When Josh came, he’d need something flat and stable, strong enough to bear grey cat’s weight. The cat was fatter now she no longer had to scrounge for food, and heavy with the life she carried in her belly.
Vera lifted her head, wiped away the blur of tears. Milk crates towered by The Billy Button Café’s service door, and beside them stood a stack of waxed boxes that her vegetables were delivered in. They’d do. They’d more than do if she tore out one of the sides.
She leapt to her feet and pulled the stack of boxes apart, searching for the cleanest one, then raced back to the cat. Should she move her?
Just as she was dithering over the wisdom of trying to lift her on her own, footsteps sounded in the alley and the broad white beam of a torchlight shone square in her face.
She shielded her eyes. ‘Josh?’
‘I’m here.’
Thank god. Two little words from him and that’s all it took; tears she’d been fighting to hold back roared up like a freak wave and overflowed down her cheeks.
‘I think she’s been hit by a car. Her breathing’s all funny and her tail’s all still.’
‘We can’t do anything here. Put your hands under her head and I’ll do the back. We’ll lift her into the box on three. Ready?’
No. She wasn’t ready, but she slid her hands under grey cat’s head and shoulders anyway, lifted as Josh commanded.
The cat gave a low, low yowl, then subsided into silence.
‘Is she—’
She couldn’t finish the question.
‘Hold the torch,’ said Josh. ‘Graeme’s with Hannah getting a table prepped. Vera?’
She hurried along beside him, shining the torch where his feet needed to step.
‘Yes?’
His voice was firm. ‘This doesn’t look good, Vera. You need to be prepared.’
She swallowed back a sob. ‘I know.’
Lights were blazing in the vet clinic, and Hannah was in hairnet, mask and gloves when they raced into the operating room.
‘Anaesthetic,’ said Hannah.
‘On it,’ said Josh, pulling on a pair of gloves then lowering a conical mask over the cat’s face.
‘Back’s not broken,’ said Hannah, as her fingers slid along grey cat’s spine and around her haunches. ‘But that leg is. She’s going to need surgery to pull— Oh, the kittens are still alive. There’s movement.’
Vera let out a breath.
