What? Lizzie answered, her voice flat as a board.
What do you mean what? What am I supposed to do?
At least get out of the car, have a look, see if its still alive.
I swore. The driveway was empty, the night hung heavy with a metallic, almost fearful smell. I eased the boot shut, then, without even getting out, leaned forward to peer under the chassis. And there it was: a little grey bundle, shivering, eyes wide open.
Its alive, Lizzie. Its alive what now?
What? Take it to the vet. You were heading that way anyway. Come on, move!
I lifted the cat gently it didnt fight, just lay there, breathing shallowly. I popped it into an old shoe box that had been sitting on the floor and slipped it onto the back seat. Then I drove off.
The clinic was only a halfhour away, normally. Not on that day. That day stretched out, the thirty minutes feeling like an eternity.
In the boot, a dog was already curled up. An older mixed breed, hit by a train. My neighbours from the holiday park had begged me to take it to the clinic put it out of its misery, please, they said. A stray, no one really wanted, but we felt sorry for it. I went in automatically.
And now this cat, too.
I sped down the road like a man on a mission, looping the same thought in my head:
What a day what a life.
When I got to the practice, there was no queue, surprisingly. I burst in with the box, halfas if I were taking my wife to deliver a baby. The vet snatched it straight away and disappeared into the examination room.
Whats wrong with it? Hows it doing? I pounded on the door.
Were doing an Xray now, the assistant said, nodding. Doesnt look serious, but well check.
Fifteen minutes passed like forever. The clocks seemed to have taken a holiday, the hands stopped moving. I paced the hallway, stared at the ceiling, at the windows, at the posters of British Shorthairs and Maine Coons plastered on the walls.
Inside, something churned. Not just worry shame, guilt. I hadnt noticed the cat at all. I shouldnt have sped off so fast. Everything could have gone another way. That tiny, helpless thing had stepped onto the road a second too late, and I was thinking about the turnoff to the clinic. One splitsecond, a flick of fate, and here I am, throat tight, begging, Please, just stay alive. Let me fix this.
Finally the vet emerged.
We need to operate
And then it hit me the dog was still in the boot!
I turned the car around. Silence in the passenger seat. No whimper, no movement. I pressed the release button and the boot lid creaked open.
Two frightened eyes stared back from the darkness. Alive.
Hey I whispered. Sorry well sort this out right away.
Back to the clinic I went, faster than ever. I caught up with the vet a stern, nononsense woman in a white coat.
Theres another dog in the boot. Hit by a train, its hind legs
They called us to put it down they said it had no chance.
I froze, words stuck in my throat. Her face stayed stonecold. She slipped her coat over her shoulders and followed me.
We opened the boot together. She glanced at the dog, then at me, her eyes cutting like an Xray beam.
Youve gone mad? Who said it had to be put down? Yes, its legs wont heal, but it can live. Weve taken in worse before. Bring it in.
I nodded, my mouth dry. The vet said, Itll live. That was all the reassurance I needed.
That night I burst through the front door. Lizzie turned away from the stove, eyes wide.
Whats wrong with you, Charlie?
I didnt say a word, just trudged to my bedroom, pulled out an old notebook where Id stashed some cash between the pages. A dream. A motorbike. None of it mattered now.
Charlie?! Whats happening?
Theyll live! I shouted. Both of them!
Who? Have you lost it?
Ill explain later!
We kept them. The cat we named Molly. The dog became Buster. We got through everything together: dripinfusions, sleepless nights, rehab sessions.
Lizzie finally said,
If theyre with us, well sort it out.
And we did. She fed Molly with love, tended Busters wounds. We cried when Molly took her first wobbly steps, laughed when Buster, in a little wheelchair, zipped around the garden.
Five years later they werent just pets. They were family.
When I got home today the house smelled of fresh biscuits. Lizzie wrapped me in a tight hug from behind, her hands shaking a little.
Whats happening? I asked, looking up.
Were going to be rich she whispered, laying her hand on her stomach.
At first I didnt get it. Then it clicked.
Im forty now, shes thirtyseven. Weve tried for ages, almost gave up. Then a strange woman once told us:
Youll have three children. Two gifts from nature, one a blessing from God. Patience, love, the road will be hard but the light will be clear.
Molly curled up, sleeping on a plush rabbit beside the windowsill. Buster, now old, shuffled over, nestled against my leg, letting out a long sigh.
I didnt believe it then. Now I do. Because once we said yes to life, and life answered back with a resounding yes.
