“How are you feeling this evening? I hope your leg isn’t hurting. Are you hungry?”

Yes, that’s me! Talking to the animals like I promised, there in the Surgery on the night before Halloween.

In the first cage lies a small, fluffy, white dog. Its leg is bandaged up and it has a cone-funnel around its neck to stop it biting off the bandage. I slide the bowl of pellets through the food slot.

“There you go!”

I feel like a total idiot talking to this dumb creature. Especially when the dog ignores me and the food I’ve given it. So I move on to the next cage. This is scarier. There’s a big dog there. Really big! It’s standing right next to the cage door. And it’s panting so I can see its massive teeth. I double-check that the cage is shut tight and safe.

“Don’t you think about biting me, you hear? I’m not your supper, okay?”

I’m trying to get up the courage to slide its food bowl into the cage. And I’m thinking: See? That’s the problem with animals. They just don’t understand things. You can’t explain to an animal that you are trying to help it, and not hurt it.

Often, I know, Tefo has to put a muzzle on his patients to make sure they don’t bite him. Especially when he’s going to give an injection. Meanwhile, all he wants to do is help and heal them. But of course, they don’t understand.

In my gentlest voice, I say, “Nice dog. Clever dog. Here’s some food, my little one.”

And wow! Next thing this dog is wagging his tail, looking at me with soft big eyes as if he would never, never want to hurt me. I slide his food bowl in – and he licks my hand. As if he is saying thank you!

But still – yuck! That big wet tongue is a bit disgusting.

Next thing he is gobbling down the pellets as if he is starving.

I feed the three cats and tell them all they are sweet kitties. And then I head for the birdcage and Captain Silver. Yes, Miss Whittle has brought her parrot in again – he’s been pulling out his feathers, so he has a big bald patch on his chest. I find it hard to say anything nice to him. He really is ugly. And smelly. And that beak of his looks vicious.

I give him his bowl of seeds. I say, “Sleep well, Captain Silver.” He glares at me with beady eyes.

The big dog is making whimpering noises. As if he is sad that I am leaving. But it is dark now. Really dark. And I remember my phone is on charge at the house. What if Tefo calls?

I lock up the Surgery and head back across the wild grass to the house. Fast! Struggling to find my way in the dark.

Except …

Except I feel wooden planks beneath my feet instead of sand. Rotten wooden planks that bend and crack and break beneath me. And I am falling. Down … down … down into utter darkness.

It’s Dr Dreyer’s old well. And how deep is it?

***

Tell us: How might Melissa get out of the well?