Member-only story
A Veterinarian’s Life
My Dream Dog
Nora
When I was eleven I went to a movie convention with my friend and her father, who owned a chain of theatres. At the MGM booth was a tamed cheetah who people were allowed to see up close and Mr. Allan knew of my obsession with cats, Africa, and the TV show, Daktari.
She was a mature female; watchful eyes in a small head, deep thorax, sleek, muscled body. In awe, I extended my hands towards her and she gently sniffed my fingers.
I don’t remember how it happened but the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor with this magnificent creature draped over my lap, scratching behind her ears as she purred like a kitten.
There are a couple of old polaroids stashed in a box, proof of this magical moment with my “dream cat”. Every decade or so I pull them out, that look of pure joy on my face a reminder that my career path was determined so long ago.
My “dream dog” came later in life.
I stood in the doorway of Exam Two and called “ Nora Jacobs?” At sixteen weeks, this Irish Wolfhound pup was already the size of a full-grown lab. She flew across the waiting room and pushed her head into my knees, wiggling her rear, begging for a pat. This became our signature greeting and as she approached full-size, having been tossed to the ground…
