New Year’s Eve is always the shortest straw to draw on the Christmas rota. Not only is it the one night of the year when everyone wants to socialize, but it is also the night we receive the most bizarre and unusual calls. This might be because clients, or animals – or both – have enjoyed the festivities just that little bit too much. It might, of course, just be coincidence.
One New Year’s Eve call has gone down in history at the practice. It happened in the days before we were computerized, when patient records were kept on cards the size of a postcard. The card that recorded the clinical notes for this particular case has been kept for posterity. Without actually seeing it written in black and white, the story is almost impossible to believe. Yet it is entirely true. The vet who was on duty and dealt with the case (and I shall not disclose his identity) has recounted the story many times over the years.
The phone went early on the evening of 31 December.
‘Hello, is that the vet?’
‘Yes, what’s the problem?’
‘It’s our cat. She’s not very well,’ explained the man on the end of the phone. ‘We’d like you to have a look at her.’
‘Okay,’ replied my colleague, who was at home at the time. ‘I can be at the practice in about ten minutes.’
It is always good to have a little bit of information, to be forewarned about what might be in store, so another tentative question followed, the answer to the first question not having been so illuminating.
‘What has happened?’
‘Well. We were bathing her in the sink – she was smelly, you see – and now she’s not very well,’ came the reply, which was still not that helpful.
‘Okay, well I’ll see you at the practice. If I’m not there immediately, just wait in the car and I’ll be with you shortly.’
The unfortunate veterinary surgeon still didn’t really know what the problem was, other than that the cat had been in the sink. He expected it to be wet.
When he arrived at the practice, the owners of the cat were already there, waiting in their car as instructed, clutching a large pink towel, swaddling the wet cat. He unlocked the front door and ushered them inside. People kept coming – it seemed it was a large family, and the small consulting room was filled with six quite large family members, who all gathered around the bundle on the table.
‘So, tell me again what exactly happened this evening?’
It was important to know the full history. Animals (obviously) can’t tell us vets the nature of their problem, so getting as much information as possible from owners is an important part of any assessment, even before the examination starts.
‘Well, she was starting to smell, you see, so we thought we’d give her a bath. We bathed her in the sink in the kitchen and then …’
There was a pause accompanied by some snuffling from the youngest member of the group.
‘And then she wasn’t very well at all.’
It was becoming evident that a detailed history was not going to be forthcoming.
‘Okay then, why don’t we have a look – can you open up the towel please?’
The large pink towel was unravelled, to reveal a dead cat. A very dead cat. Rigor mortis had set in and it was completely stiff, with staring eyes and legs that stuck out rigidly.
The family stared expectantly at the veterinary surgeon for some kind of assessment of the sick tortoiseshell. Although there was clearly no need to listen for a heartbeat with the stethoscope, this seemed to be the only thing to do. After a few moments with the metal end resting on the cat’s chest, the duty vet sadly shook his head.
‘I’m sorry. She’s passed away,’ he said, confirming the obvious.
‘Oh my God! She’s DEAD?’ was the collective response from all six members of the family. There was much wailing and grief, unsurprisingly as she was clearly a much-loved family pet. What was surprising was that nobody seemed to have had any clue that this might have been the case.
The family had a moment or two with their cat before wending a tearful way back home. Not a happy way to end the year, but a most unusual one. The most peculiar thought though, was that if they had embarked on the bathing process because the cat was starting to smell, and rigor mortis was well and truly established, how long had the cat actually been dead?
I don’t think we’ll ever know!