Members do not see these Ads. Sign Up.

I have the pleasure of recounting a tale from one of my patients today - a very pleasant lady of middle century vintage with a passion for the canine world. After finding herself out of work for a few months she discovered a lucrative line in dog sitting and walking and being a woman of a certain class, she decided to advertise her services in The Lady.

Three weeks ago she received an inquiry from a couple in West London who required a dog sitter for a weekend. They offered £500 plus accommodation and travel costs from Lytham and my patient duly accepted - their address not 500 yards from Harrods and the V&A Museum.

Train tickets arrived and she duly set off for the big smoke and was collected at Euston by taxi and taken directly to an impressive Georgian Townhouse where the elderly couple were heading off to Austria for the weekend.

Pooch was a 14 year-old beagle and in not too great health - and she was left with a card with the veterinary surgeon's name and telephone number, plus an additional £100 for taxi fares if necessary. Friday night and Pooch was in good form and he slept in his basket at the foot of her bed without incident. The following morning she took him for his morning walk to the park/gardens across the road. It was a fine morning - though rather blustery in the wind - and on the way back Pooch struggled and by the time that arrived home, he collapsed in the hallway and refused to move.

Ma cheri duly phoned the vet who asked her to bring Pooch round in a taxi - which she did - and when they arrived he explained Pooch had a heart condition and would need a couple of injections - the wind probably inducing an angina attack. Treatment over, they headed home in another taxi with instructions to phone should his condition worsen. The taxi fares came to £80.

The remaining day was uneventful and Pooch settled down, as previous, in his basket. At 3am Sunday morning, on return from a bathroom visit, ma cherie makes the unfortunate discovery that Pooch has expired totally; dead, dada, gone. In a panic, she telephones the vet (who must have been pleased) but he reassures her that everything would be ok and it was not altogether unexpected. Arrangements had been made for such an eventuality and if she could bring Pooch round to his practice in the morning he would cremate Pooch and return the ashes to the owners on their return. They would be too upset otherwise, he explained. He suggested she put Pooch in a suitcase as he was unable to collect the dog - and bring it to him in a taxi. This she agreed to do.

In the morning she found a suitable Samsonite suitcase from one of the rooms and lifted the dog into it and took it downstairs. As she had only £20 left from the cash left from the owners, she decided to take the tube - which was just across the road from their house and alight two stops down the line. It was only a short walk to the surgery at the other end.

She caught the 0940 tube on the Sunday morning with Pooch in the Samsonite and arrived two stops down the line a few minutes later. When she exited the train she was faced with a substantial stair climb up to street level and couldn't locate the lifts (elevators) so started up with difficulty. After a few steps a young man came up and asked if she would like a help as she was struggling to lift the case. "Yes please" she replied and they started off up the stairs together. When they were halfway up, he asked her what was in the case as it was quite heavy - and at a loss for something to say, she said it was some of her brother's DJ equipment (he is a DJ BTW) - and after a few more steps - without warning, the helpful young man turned and smiled then ran off with the suitcase and disappeared out the tube station and left her high and dry!

The vet was sympathetic and told her to leave "things to me" and would arrange for Pooch's 'ashes' to be returned to the owners when that arrived back later that day. I'm not sure what reasons she gave for the missing Samsonite, but somewhere in London, some scally had a wonderful surprise when he opened the case full of DJ gear that Sunday morning!

Isn't life wonderfully just sometimes?