The next morning we put Hector in the car and drive to the Mercy Street Home for Lost Dogs. When we get out of the car, the barking from inside the building is crazy. Hector doesn’t want to go in and I don’t blame him.

Chelsea and I need Mum’s help to get him to walk to the entrance and he strains against his leash.

‘He hates it here already, Mum.’ I can feel myself getting upset again.

‘Let’s just go in and see what they think,’ says Mum gently.

There’s no one at the front counter but there’s a bell. Mum rings it and we stand and wait. Chelsea sits with Hector, her arms around his neck.

After quite a long time, a man slides the side door open and enters the room. The sound of the dogs barking is even louder until he shuts it again.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ he says. ‘It’s been very busy this weekend. Always is after a storm.’

‘We’re sorry to add to your load,’ says Mum, ‘but this dog showed up at our house. I don’t suppose anyone has reported a large, shaggy, brown dog missing?’

The man looks at Hector and runs his finger down his list as he wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. I look more closely at him. He has a very kind face but he looks really tired.

‘Nope,’ he says. ‘No brown shaggy dogs on the list. Doesn’t mean they won’t call though. It was such a whopper of a storm last night and the night before that I’ve got dogs here from two towns away! Of course, it had to happen when I’m short on staff. Two of them are on holidays until next week.’

‘I’m a vet,’ says Mum. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Are you kidding?’ says the man. ‘I would love an extra hand. Just having someone help to check over them all and see if they have microchips or any injuries would be so helpful.’

‘I’m nearly a vet and Chelsea is nearly a world-famous animal trainer and groomer,’ I say. ‘Can we help, too?’

The man looks at Mum. She smiles and nods her head. ‘They’re actually a great help to me around the surgery.’

‘Well, that’s settled then,’ says the man, smiling. ‘What good luck to have three experts to help me out!’

Mum calls Dad to tell him we’re going to help out for the day. She says Dad was very pleased because he thought she was ringing to say Hector was coming back home.

Chelsea and I race out to the car to get our vet and grooming kits. We never leave home without them. Vets and groomers always need to be prepared for emergencies.

The man tells us his name is Paul and then he leads us into the area where the dogs are kept.

There are dogs in cages everywhere. Big dogs, little dogs, long dogs, short dogs, white dogs, black dogs, spotty dogs and patchy dogs. I had no idea so many dogs could get lost.

‘It’s not normally this bad,’ says Paul, yelling over the barking. ‘And twelve people have already rung to say they’re coming for their dogs. Can you believe that before the storm, I only had four dogs here?’ Paul opens the last cage on the left where there is a chubby cream-coloured labrador.

We lead Hector inside and they both wag their tails and sniff each other’s noses. Maybe he won’t mind being here after all? I think. But then Hector turns around and looks back at us through the wire of the cage. He starts to cry.

‘It’s okay, Hector,’ I say, patting him through the wire. He must feel really confused.

Paul sees that I am starting to get upset. ‘Hector will be fine,’ he says. ‘He’ll settle down soon.’

‘Let’s help Paul get these other dogs sorted out and then we can work out where Hector belongs,’ says Mum, giving me a hug.

Being a vet can be very emotional.

Paul nods. ‘I need to check them all for microchips so we can let the other dog pounds and refuges know what dogs we have here. Then we’ll put the dogs that have been claimed into the cages up near the office and bath the ones that are really dirty. Plus they’re all going to need food, water, fresh bedding and a walk.’

I whip out my Vet Diary and make some notes.

‘Okay,’ says Mum, looking around at the dozens of barking, howling, wagging dogs. ‘Let’s get to work. Where shall we start?’

Paul races to the office and comes back with his list. ‘Girls, if I put a peg on the gate of a cage, it means that dog’s owner has been found and they are friendly enough for you to handle. Here are some leashes. If you could walk them to the empty cages up near the office and check they have food, water and bedding, they’ll be fine to wait there for their owners to collect them.’

‘Rachel, if you would give me a hand to check all of the unclaimed dogs for injuries and microchips, that would be great.’

‘If only Hector had a microchip,’ sighs Chelsea.

‘Or a collar,’ I say.

We both look through the cage at Hector. He stands and wags his tail at us hopefully. I wonder if anyone has ever loved him at all.