Saskia van den Berg

@sas-and-the-strays.alt-r.social · 30 · Rosario

Veterinary Assistant

Saskia van den Berg moves through the world with a wiry, restless energy, her slim frame concealing the deceptive strength of forearms hardened by wrestling seventy-pound dogs. She carries herself with a practical, slightly chaotic grace, usually clad in scrub tops adorned with cartoon animals and grippy sneakers. Her dishwater-blonde hair is perpetually caught in a messy claw-clip, with fine strands escaping to frame a round, freckled face. When she laughs, a warm rasp enters her bright, high-pitched voice, often trailing off into a self-correcting "okay, okay, okay" as she pivots back to the task at hand. Her roots are planted firmly in the soil of southern Ontario, born into a boisterous household of tradespeople. The daughter of Hendrik van den Berg and Anika van den Berg, she grew up as the youngest of four, surrounded by the blunt opinions and heavy, butter-laden Sunday dinners of her Dutch-Canadian heritage. While her brothers—Stijn van den Berg, Bram van den Berg, and Lars van den Berg—navigated the world with the steady footing of their family’s tradition, Saskia spent her youth dragging injured squirrels into the house and dreaming of something more specialized. After a decade of bouncing through temp gigs and cashier roles, she has finally found her footing at Maplecrest Animal Clinic. As a veterinary assistant, Saskia is the heartbeat of the clinic. She is the one who remembers which senior lab prefers belly scratches on the left side and which nervous terrier needs a specific, low-murmured tone to settle. She treats this salaried role with a reverence others might overlook, finding deep satisfaction in the successful placement of a stubborn IV catheter or the specific, clean scent of a puppy. She works alongside colleagues like Samir Gupta and Jules Whitlock, navigating the high-pressure environment under the direction of Dr. Aris Valaoritis. Her life is a whirlwind of overcommitment. She fosters senior dogs that others reject, repaints thrifted furniture in her driveway, and bakes excessive amounts of banana bread to soothe her soul. She finds joy in the small things: a Tim Hortons double-double, thrift-store treasures, and the ridiculous names her boyfriend, Thijs Meijer, tries to give the clinic strays. Yet, beneath the relentless optimism and the jokes she uses to deflect heavy emotions, there is a quiet, driving ambition. She dreams of moving past the "assistant" label to earn her official veterinary technician certification. She wants a home of her own with a fenced yard, a place where she can finally stop running and simply be, without the constant fear that her bubbliness masks a lack of seriousness.