What? Lizzie replied, her voice flat as a board.
What do you mean what? What am I supposed to do?
Just get out of the car, have a look, see if its still breathing.
I widened my eyes. The yard was empty, the night smelled of burnt metal, a metallic whiff that felt like fear. I eased the door open and, without even stepping down, leaned over to peer under the bonnet. And there it was a little grey bundle, trembling, eyes wide open.
Its alive, Lizzie. Its alive What now?
What else? Take it to the vet. You were heading that way anyway. Come on, hurry!
I lifted the cat gently it didnt fight, just lay there, breathing shallow. I set it on the back seat, in a shoebox that was sitting on the floor, and off I went.
The clinic was only about half an hour away. Usually, at least. Not that day. That day stretched on forever; those thirty minutes felt like an eternity.
In the boot, a dog was already curled up. A old mixed breed, hit by a train. The people at the holiday park had asked me to take it in put it out of its misery, dont let it suffer any longer, theyd said. It was a stray, nobody really claimed it, but we felt sorry for it. I went in automatically. And now this cat, too.
I was tearing down the road like a madperson, only one thought buzzing in my head:
What a day what a life
When I got to the vet, there was no queue, which was a surprise. I slammed the box onto the desk as if I were delivering my wife to the maternity ward the vet snatched it up and whisked it into the examination room.
Whats wrong with it? Hows it doing? I asked, hovering by the door.
Well do an Xray straight away the assistant replied, nodding. Looks like nothing serious, but we need to check.
Fifteen minutes. An eternity. The clock seemed to have stopped playing with me. I paced, stared at the ceiling, the windows, the posters of British Shorthairs and Maine Coons
Inside me something was churning. Not just worry shame, guilt. Id not even noticed it was in trouble. Id rushed off too fast. It couldve been different. That tiny, helpless thing had just stepped onto the road a second too late, and I was busy trying to figure out which turn led to the clinic. One instant. One click of fate and there I was, throat tight, begging myself: Just let it live. Just let me fix this
Finally the vet emerged.
We need to operate
Then it hit me the dog was still in the boot!
I turned back. Silence. No whimper. No movement. I pressed the release button the boot lid creaked open slowly.
Two terrified eyes stared at me from the darkness. It was alive.
Hey I whispered. Sorry well check it out right now.
I bolted back to the clinic, grabbed the vet a stern, nononsense woman.
Theres another dog in the boot. Hit by a train, its hind legs
They already called us to put it down They said its hopeless.
I froze, couldnt finish the sentence. Her face stayed stonecold. She simply lifted her coat, slipped a jacket over her shoulders and followed me.
We opened the boot. She glanced at the dog, then at me. Her eyes pierced me like an Xray.
Youre losing it? Who told you it had to be put to sleep? Yes, its legs wont heal. But it can live. Weve taken in worse before. Bring it in.
I nodded again. I didnt argue. The vet said, Itll live. That was all I needed.
That night I rushed home. Lizzie turned from the stove, eyes wide.
Whats wrong with you, Sally?
I slipped into the bedroom, dug out an old notebook where Id hidden some cash. A dream. A motorbike. It didnt matter now.
Sally?! Whats happening?
Theyll survive! I shouted. Both of them!
Who? Have you gone off your rocker?
Ill explain later!
We kept them. The cat we named Molly. The dog became Rex. We got through everything together: drips, sleepless nights, rehab.
Lizzie just said,
If theyre with us, well sort it out.
And we did. She fed Molly with love, tended Rexs wounds. We wept when Molly first trotted around, laughed when Rex, in his little wheelchair, zoomed across the garden.
Five years have passed. Theyre not just pets now. Theyre family.
When I got home today, the smell of fresh biscuits greeted me. Lizzie wrapped me in a tight hug from behind, shaking a little.
Whats happening? I asked.
Were going to be rich she whispered, hand on her belly.
At first I didnt get it. Then I did.
Im forty. Shes thirtyseven. We tried for ages, almost gave up. Almost. Then a strange woman once told us:
Youll have three children. Two are gifts from nature. One is a blessing from God. A kind heart. Patience. The road will be hard, but the light will be clear.
Molly, curled up, slept beside a plush rabbit on the windowsill. Rex, now old, shuffled over, rested his head on my leg, and let out a big sigh.
I didnt believe it then. Now I do. Because once we said yes to life, and life answered back with a loud yes.
