Every Living Thing Read online

  “And now he’s back in that little place by the roadside.”

  “Aye, it’s a rum ’un, isn’t it?”

  It was a rum ’un indeed—one of the strangest stories I’d ever heard, and it was never far from my mind over the following weeks. I kept wondering how the old man and his cat were getting on in that igloo, and if the kittens had arrived yet. But they couldn’t have—I was sure he would have let me know.

  I did hear from him at last one stormy evening.

  “Mr. Herriot, I am telephoning from the farm. Emily has not yet produced those kittens, but she is…very large and has lain trembling all day and won’t eat anything. I had to trouble you on this horrible night but I know nothing about these things and she does look…most unhappy.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, but I tried to sound casual. “I think I’ll just pop out and have a look at her, Mr. Ireson.”

  “Really—are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. No bother. I’ll see you soon.”

  It was a strange, almost unreal scene as I stumbled through the darkness and parted the sacks forty minutes later. The wind and rain buffeted the tarpaulin walls and by the flickering light of the tilly lamp I saw Eugene in his chair, stroking Emily, who lay in the basket by his side.

  The little cat had swollen enormously, so much as to be almost unrecognisable, and as I kneeled and passed my hand over the distended abdomen I could feel the skin stretched tight. She was absolutely bursting full of kittens, but seemed lifeless and exhausted. She was straining, too, and licking at her vulva.

  I looked up at the old man. “Have you some hot water, Mr. Ireson?”

  “Yes, yes, the kettle has just boiled.”

  I soaped my little finger. It would only just go into the tiny vagina. Inside I found the cervix wide open and a mass beyond, only just palpable. Heaven only knew how many kittens were jammed in there, but one thing was certain. There was no way they could ever come out. There was no room for manoeuvre. There was nothing I could do. Emily turned her face to me and gave a faint miaow of distress, and it came to me piercingly that this cat could die.

  “Mr. Ireson,” I said. “I’ll have to take her away immediately.”

  “Take her away?” he said in a bewildered whisper.

  “Yes. She needs a Caesarean operation. The kittens can’t come out in the normal way.”

  Upright in his chair, he nodded, shocked and only half comprehending. I grabbed the basket, Emily and all, and rushed out into the darkness. Then, as I thought of the old man looking blankly after me, I realised that my bedside manner had slipped badly. I pushed my head back through the sacks.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Ireson,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Don’t worry! Brave words. As I parked Emily on the back seat and drove away I knew I was damn worried, and I cursed the mocking fate that had decreed that after all my airy remarks about cats effortlessly giving birth I might be headed for a tragedy. How long had Emily been lying like that? Ruptured uterus? Septicaemia? The grim possibilities raced through my mind. And why did it have to happen to that solitary old man, of all people?

  I stopped at the village kiosk and rang Siegfried.

  “I’ve just left old Eugene Ireson. Will you come in and give me a hand? Cat Caesar and it’s urgent. Sorry to bother you on your night off.”

  “Perfectly all right, James, I’m not doing a thing. See you in about half an hour, eh?”

  When I got to the surgery Siegfried had the steriliser bubbling and everything laid out. “This is your party, James,” he murmured. “I’ll do the anaesthetic.” I had shaved the site of the operation and had poised my scalpel over the grossly swollen abdomen when he whistled softly. “My God,” he said. “It’s like opening an abscess!”

  That was exactly what it was like. I felt that if I made an incision the mass of kittens would explode out in my face and indeed, as I proceeded with the lightest touch through skin and muscle, the laden uterus bulged out alarmingly.

  “Hell!” I breathed. “How many are in here?”

  “A fairish number!” said my partner. “And she’s such a tiny cat.”

  Gingerly, I opened the peritoneum, which to my relief looked clean and healthy, then, as I went on, I waited for the jumble of little heads and feet to appear. But with increasing wonderment I watched my incision travel along a massive, coal-black back and when I finally hooked my finger round the neck, drew forth a kitten and laid it on the table, I found that the uterus was empty.

  “There’s only one!” I gasped. “Would you believe it?”

  Siegfried laughed. “Yes, but what a whopper! And alive, too.” He lifted the kitten and took a closer look. “A whacking great tom—he’s nearly as big as his mother!”

  As I stitched up and gave the sleeping Emily a shot of penicillin I felt the tension flow away from me in happy waves. The little cat was in good shape. My fears had been groundless. It would be best to leave the kitten with her for a few weeks, then I’d be able to find a home for him.

  “Thanks a lot for coming in, Siegfried,” I said. “It looked like a very dodgy situation at first.”

  I could hardly wait to get back to the old man who, I knew, would still be in a state of shock at my taking away his beloved cat. In fact, when I passed through the sacking doorway, it looked as though he hadn’t moved since I last saw him. He wasn’t reading, wasn’t doing anything except staring ahead from his chair.

  When I put the basket down by his side he turned slowly and looked down wonderingly at Emily, who was coming round from the anaesthetic and beginning to raise her head, and at the black newcomer who was already finding his private array of teats interesting.

  “She’s going to be fine, Mr. Ireson,” I said, and he nodded slowly.

  “How wonderful. How simply wonderful,” he murmured.

  When I went to take out the stitches ten days later, I found a carnival atmosphere in the igloo. Old Eugene was beside himself with delight, while Emily, stretched in the back with her enormous offspring sucking busily, looked up at me with an expression of pride that bordered on the smug.

  “I think we ought to have a celebratory cup of tea and one of my favourite buns,” the old man said.

  As the kettle boiled he drew a finger along the kitten’s body. “He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he?”

  “He certainly is. He’ll grow up into a beautiful cat.”

  Eugene smiled. “Yes. I’m sure he will, and it will be so nice to have him with Emily.”

  I paused as he handed me a bun. “But just a minute, Mr. Ireson. You really can’t do with two cats here.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Well, you take Emily into the village on a lead most days. You’d have difficulty on the road with two cats, and anyway you don’t have room in here, do you?”

  He didn’t say anything, so I pressed on. “Anyway, a lady was asking me the other day if I could find her a black kitten. So many people ask us to find a specific pet for them, often to replace an older animal that has just died, and we always seem to have trouble obliging them, but this time I was able to say I knew the very one.”

  He nodded slowly, and then after a moment’s cogitation, said, “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Herriot. I hadn’t really thought about it enough.”

  “Anyway,” I said, “she’s a very nice lady and a real cat lover. He’ll have a very good home. He’ll live like a little sultan with her.”

  He laughed. “Good…good…and maybe I’ll hear about him now and then?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll keep you posted regularly.” I could see I had got over the hurdle nicely and I thought I’d change the subject. “By the way, I saw your brother for the first time.”

  “Cornelius?” He looked at me expressionlessly. We had never mentioned the subject before. “And what did you think of him?”

  “Well…he didn’t look very happy.”

  “He wouldn’t. He is not a happy man.”

  “That�€