Just outside Lephalale, old Dr Dreyer shows us around his house. He’s so excited: he’s off to spend six months with his grandchildren.

“Only one bedroom, sorry, Dr Nkoni,” he says.

“Call me Tefo,” says Tefo.

The view through the window is glorious: wild grass and clumps of trees and a wide, open sky.

“The nearest neighbours are over a kilometre away. Sorry.”

“Wonderful!” I say, but Tefo looks glum.

“However, you’ll see plenty of people. This is the only vet practice in the area, so my appointment book is always full.”

“Wonderful,” says Tefo.

In the lounge there is a massive, wall-mounted, flat-screen TV. Like huge! Tefo is smiling, thinking of all the sports he can watch. And I am smiling – because Halloween is around the corner. Horror movies, here I come!

Dr Dreyer leads us through some high, wild grass towards the Surgery building.

“Careful,” he says. He points to a square deck of planks on the ground. “There’s an old well under those planks. A deep, empty well. And those planks are old and rotten. Just stay on the path, right?”

The Surgery has a small reception office.

“My receptionist is away too. Will you be okay?”

But that is fine. I’m doing my final BCom year by correspondence, so I can do the bookings and the accounts. And study between times, no problem.

A door leads to the Surgery proper with its gleaming operating table and glass cupboards full of meds. We can hear a couple of dog-patients yowling from the next room, where they are kept in cages.

Tefo makes straight for the animals. He kneels down beside some huge, hairy mutt with its leg in plaster.

“Oh my poor boy, what happened to you? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, my little one.”

Yes, my Tefo talks to the animals. Sometimes I tease him and call him Dr Dolittle – like that Eddie Murphy movie where he talks to the animals and they talk back to him. But sometimes it’s not funny. He uses the same gentle voice he uses when he talks to me! Exactly the same.

Some idiot bird is screeching in its bird-cage. It’s ugly and grey with a huge beak just ready to peck holes in your face. Who wants a thing like that for a pet?

“What’s your problem, my love?” Tefo asks in his gentle voice. He puts his finger through the bars to tickle the parrot’s scrawny neck. It doesn’t peck him.

“That’s Miss Whittle’s African Grey,” says Dr Dreyer. “You’ll see them often. She’s over the top when it comes to Captain Silver – always panicking something is wrong. She’ll collect him tomorrow.”

Captain Silver! Who gives a bird a name like that?

“Can he talk?” asks Tefo. “I hear parrots can learn up to a thousand words.”

“Not this one. Miss Whittle’s had him six years, and not a word out of him.”

I leave the two vets to feed the patients their evening meal. I take a long walk around the outer fence. The air is fresh. Red streaks of sunset stretch across the wide horizon. Beautiful!

That night, we settle into our new bedroom. Country sounds drift through the window: an owl screeches spookily, a ghostly wind rustles through dry leaves. Wow! What a place to spend Halloween.

But Tefo tosses and turns. “How can I sleep with all these weird noises?” he grumbles.

So I microwave him a mug of hot milk. That always helps him sleep.

***

Tell us: Rural countryside or city streets – which do you prefer?