by Matt Haig
The bell goes again, and Adam slips out of his trance. The young Labrador is leading her master through the door.
‘Duty over all,’ she says, sniffing me one final time.
‘Duty over -’ I stop, realising there is something I must say. ‘Everything I did, you know, when I broke the Pact. It was wrong. It was all a mistake. Tell every Labrador you see that my example should not be followed.’
‘But you said -’
‘I know. I’m sorry, I was wrong. The danger never goes away.’
‘But -’ Her master pulls her from me and holds the door open for Adam.
We head back inside, where Nice Mister Vet is waiting for us.
‘Do you want to stay with him, for the injection?’
‘Yes, if that’s OK.’ Adam’s voice no longer sounds his own. It is empty, detached, as if his real self is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere words can’t reach.
‘OK, I’ll need your help in getting him up on this table. Yes, that’s it. One, two, three . . .’
I am hauled onto a high metal surface, and my paws slide in every direction.
‘OK, keep him steady.’
Adam holds my collar and kisses my forehead above the muzzle while Nice Mister Vet opens a cupboard behind him and takes out a capsule of fluid.
‘It is always horrible doing this. You never get used to it, especially when the dog is so healthy.’
‘Yes,’ says the detached voice. ‘I bet.’
Adam is now staring into my eyes. We are both trying to connect, to communicate messages we realise won’t be understood.
‘Right,’ says Nice Mister Vet, emptying the fluid into another container. ‘There we go.’
Adam’s face has changed. Although he is still staring into my eyes, he is now looking at his own reflection. As if he is facing himself on this operating table.
‘OK, we’ll need to keep him still.’ Nice Mister Vet holds up a needle and squirts fluid into the air. ‘While I try and find the vein.’
My master closes his eyes and presses his head against my muzzle. We both realise it is time to put me down. ‘It’s all right, boy,’ he whispers, his voice no longer detached. ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right . . .’
