"Good boy, Magnus,' I said ingratiatingly as I advanced towards him.
The little dog eyed the bandage unwinkingly until it was almost touching
his nose then, with a surprising outburst of ferocity, he made a
snarling leap at my hand. I felt the draught on my fingers as a row of
sparkling teeth snapped shut half an inch away, but as he turned to have
another go my free hand clamped on the scruff of his neck.
"Right, Mr Beckwith,' I said calmly, "I have him now. Just pass me that
bandage again and I won't be long.'
But the young man had had enough. "Not me!' he gasped. "I'm off!' He
turned the door handle and I heard his feet scurrying along the passage.
Ah well, I thought, it was probably best. With boss dogs my primary move
was usually to get the owner out of the way. It was surprising how
quickly these tough guys calmed down when they found themselves alone
with a no-nonsense stranger who knew how to handle them. I could recite
a list who were raving tearaways in their own homes but apologetic
tail-waggers once they crossed the surgery threshold. And they were all
bigger than Magnus.
Retaining my firm grip on his neck I unwound another foot of bandage and
as he fought furiously, mouth gaping, lips retracted like a scaled-down
Siberian wolf, I slipped the loop over his nose, tightened it and tied
the knot behind his 34z vel zn rlarness ears. His mouth was' now clamped
shut and just to make sure, I applied a second bandage so that he was
well and truly trussed.
This was when they usually packed in and I looked confidently at the dog
for signs of submission. But above the encircling white coils the eyes
glared furiously and from within the little frame an enraged growling
issued, rising and falling like the distant droning of a thousand bees.
Sometimes a stern word or two had the effect of showing them who was
boss.
"Magnus!' I barked at him. "That's enough! Behave yourself.' I gave his
neck a shake to make it clear that I wasn't kidding but the only
response was a sidelong squint of pure defiance from the slightly
bulging eyes.
I lifted the clippers. "All right,' I said wearily, 'if you won't have
it one way you'll have it the other.' And I tucked him under one arm,
seized a paw and began to clip.
He couldn't do a thing about it. He fought and wriggled but I had him as
in a vice. And as I methodically trimmed the overgrown nails, wrathful
bubbles escaped on either side of the bandage along with his
splutterings. If dogs could swear I was getting the biggest cursing in
history.
I did my job with particular care, taking pains to keep well away from
the sensitive core of the claw so that he felt nothing, but it made no
difference. The indignity of being mastered for once in his life was
insupportable.
Towards the conclusion of the operation I began to change my tone. I had
found in the past that once dominance has been established it is quite
easy to work up a friendly relationship, so I started to introduce a
wheedling note.
"Good little chap,' I cooed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?'
I laid down the clippers and stroked his head as a few more resentful
bubbles forced their way round the bandage. "All right, Magnus, we'll
take your muzzle off now.' I began to loosen the knot. "You'll feel a
lot better then, won't you?'
So often it happened that when I finally removed the restraint the dog
would apparently decide to let bygones be bygones and in some cases
would even lick my hand. But not so with Magnus. As the last turn of
bandage fell from his nose he made another very creditable attempt to
bite me.
"All right, Mr Beckwith,' I called along the passage, 'you can come and
get him now.'
My final memory Of the visit was of the little dog turning at the top of
the surgery steps and - ne a last dirty look befor, his master led him
down the street.
It sai~
/
.
~.
~t, mate, I won't forget you.'
~ver since that day the very sound of my voice was his disapproval. At
first the regulars treated it started to look at me strangely. Maybe
they nal or something. It was all very embarrassing ~e Drovers; the bar
was always cosy even on onsistent. b I would probably have started to do
my h~ve Inok~rl ~t me even more strangely s~ ~ "~.
~es ~c~ ~ ~ "s Irish Setter. This started with an towal~'o>9~ ~O ~e s ~}
- ~ the bath. Helen knocked on the d b~ ~o~ -~ ~little t(sk ~O ~, -~,~
~rew on my dressing gown I ran The knacke. ~j~6~,t around s~ v ,~
was difficult to im~5 ~enough, shuret~d~, >~ two days and a man has just
but I fancied the puffsi ~kw~t ra~se ~ith hic fn~t in ~ ~rin tr~n H~
... N - ... ~ ~. ~ _
must .. .' I heard a half sob at the end of the line. "He must have been
caught there all this time.'
"Oh, I'm sorry! Is it very bad?'
"Yes it is.' Mrs Hammond was the wife of one of the local bank managers
and a capable, sensible woman. There was a pause and I imagined her
determinedly gaining control of herself. When she spoke her voice was
calm.
"Yes, I'm afraid it looks as though he'll have to have his foot
amputated.'
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry to hear that.' But I wasn't really surprised. A
limb compressed in one of those barbarous instruments for forty-eight
hours would be in a critical state. These traps are now mercifully
illegal but in those days they often provided me with the kind of jobs I
didn't want and the kind of decisions I hated to make. Did you take a
limb from an uncomprehending animal to keep it alive or did you bring
down the merciful but final curtain of euthanasia? I was responsible for
the fact that there were several three-legged dogs and cats running
around Darrowby and though they seemed happy enough and their owners
still had the pleasure of their pets, the thing, for me, was clouded
with sorrow.
Anyway, I would do what had to be done.
"Bring him straight round, Mrs Hammond,' I said.
Rock was a big dog but he was the lean type of Setter and seemed very
light as I lifted him on to the surgery table. As my arms encircled the
unresisting body I could feel the rib cage sharply ridged under the
skin.
"He's lost a lot of weight,' I said.
His mistress nodded. "It's a long time to go without food. He ate
ravenously when he came in, despite his pain.'
I put a hand beneath the dog's elbow and gently lifted the leg. The
vicious teeth of the trap had been clamped on the radius and ulna but
what worried me was the grossly swollen state of the foot. It was at
least twice its normal size.
"What do you think, Mr Herriot?' Mrs Hammond's hands twisted anxiously
at the handbag which every woman seemed to bring to the surgery
irrespective of the circumstances.
I stroked the dog's head. Under the light, the rich sheen of the coat
glowed red and gold. "This terrific swelling of the foot. It's partly
due to inflammation but also to the fact that the circulation was pretty
well cut off for the time he was in the trap. The danger is gangrene -
that's when the tissue dies and decomposes.'
"I know,' she replied. "I did a bit of nursing before I married.'
Carefully I lifted the enormous foot. Rock gazed calmly in front of him
as I felt around the metacarpals and phalanges, working my way up to the
dreadful wound.
"Well, it's a mess,' I said, 'but there are two good things. First, the
leg isn't broken. The trap has gone right down to the bone but there is
no fracture. And second and more important, the foot is still warm.'
"That's a good sign?'
"Oh yes. It mea.ls there's still some circulation. If the foot had been
cold and clammy the thing would have been hopeless. I would have had to
amputate.'
"You think you can save his foot, then?'
I held up my hand. "I don't know, Mrs Hammond. As I say, he still has
some circulation but the question is how much. Some of this tissue is
bound to slough off and things could look very nasty in a few days. But
I'd like to try.'
I fiushed out the wound with a mild antiseptic in warm water and
gingerly explored the grisly depths. As I snipped away the pieces of
damaged muscle and cut off the shreds and fiaps of dead skin the thought
was uppermost that it must be extremely unpleasant for the dog; but Rock
held his head high and scarcely .
~ _
V G'; I rl l l "r rl G-~a fiinched. Once or twice he turned his head
towards me enquiringly as I probed deeply and at times I felt his moist
nose softly brushing my face as I bent over the foot, but that was all.
The injury seemed a desecration. There are few more beautiful dogs than
an Irish Setter and Rock was a picture; sleek coated and graceful with
silky feathers on legs and tail and a noble, gentle-eyed head. As the
thought of how he would look without a foot drove into my mind I shook
my head and turned quickly to lift the sulphanilamide powder from the
trolley behind me. Thank heavens this was now available, one of the new
confidence that it would really do something to keep down the infection.
I applied a layer of ganze then a light bandage with a feeling of
fatalism. There was nothing else I could do.
Rock was brought in to me every day. And every day he endured the same
procedure; the removal of the dressing which was usually adhering to the
wound to some degree, then the inevitable trimming of the dying tissues
and the rebandaging. Yet, incredibly, he never showed any reluctance to
come. Most of my patients came in very slowly and left at top speed,
dragging their owners on the end of the leads; in fact some turned tail
at the door, slipping their collar and sped down Trengate with their
owners in hot pursuit. Dogs aren't so daft and there is doubtless a
dentist's chair type of association about a vet's surgery.
Rock, however, always marched in happily with a gentle waving of his
tail. In fact when I went into the waiting room and saw him sitting
there he usually d me his paw. This had always been a characteristic
gesture of his but ' comething uncanny about it when I bent over him and
saw the ~ctretched towards me.
3
~ GL 6~. ~ 10, ,BG~J ;
nose he ~ c~ cc cq "All rig`. ~c him now.' ~ ~S :, My final n. surgery
steps ai-. street.
It sai~
s$
~.~:
~, ~"} ~C, ~ ~) ~o ~ V~ ~o Brim. All the time the dead tissue had been I
the dressing Mrs Hammond gasped '-~1 been very helpful, holding ~ht she
didn't want <~3. ~
NSC6~3 ~n~ ~,~ Wo ~, c 7 towa~: ~little~0; ~, ;~o~
The knack~e.~ ~ it around s~ was difficult to im"~% ~enough, suret~ ', >
~ ~
~ ~eckwlth raised ~ ~"j ~/
but I tancled the punst. ~/
uld be overing .. "It does : road and fectly intact. e IS no more
anulating.' covered over?'
. be exactly the "T'!
ew healthy tissue right and when, .ck of conjunctivitis e civility and
as we /as hairless, smooth jid. ~h. And he walked in:
., ~., Mrs Hammond laughed. "Oh, he's quite sound on that leg now. And
do you know. I really think he's grateful to you - look at him.'
I suppose the animal psychologists would say it was ridiculous even to
think that the big dog realised I had done him a bit of good; that
lolling-tongued open mouth, warm eyes and outstretched paw didn't mean
anything like that.
Maybe they are right, but what I do know and cherish is the certainty
that after all the discomforts I had put him through Rock didn't hold a
thing against me.
I have to turn back to the other side of the coin to discuss Timmy
Butterworth. He was a wire-haired Fox Terrier who resided in Gimber's
yard, one of the little cobbled alleys off Trengate, and the only time I
had to treat him was one lunch time.
I had just got out of the car and was climbing the surgery steps when I
saw a little girl running along the street, waving frantically as she
approached. I waited for her and when she panted up to me her eyes were
wide with fright.
"Ah'm Wendy Butterworth,' she gasped. "Me mam sent me. Will you come to
our dog?'
"What's wrong with him?'
"Me mam says he's et summa"!'
"Poison?'
"Ah think so?'
It was less than a hundred yards away, not worth taking the car. I broke
into a trot with Wendy by my side and within seconds we were turning
into the narrow archway of the 'yard'. Our feet clattered along the
tunnel-like passage then we emerged into one of the unlikely scenes
which had surprised me so much when I first came to Darrowby; the
miniature street with its tiny crowded houses, strips of garden, bow
windows looking into each other across a few feet of cobbles. But I had
no time to gaze around me today because Mrs Butterworth, stout,
red-faced and very flustered was waiting for me.
"He's in 'ere, Mr Herriot!' she cried and threw wide the door of one of
the cottages. It opened straight into the living room and I saw my
patient sitting on the hearth rug looking somewhat thoughtful.
"What's happened, then?' I asked.
The lady clasped and unclasped her hands. "I saw a big rat run down
across t'yard yesterday and I got some poison to put down for 'im.' She
gulped agitatedly. "I mixed it in a saucer full o' porridge then
somebody came to t'door and when ah came back, Timmy was just finishin'
it off.'
The terrier's thoughtful expression had deepened and he ran his tongue
slowly round his lips with the obvious reflection that that was the
strangest porridge he had ever tasted.
I turned to Mrs Butterworth. "Have you got the poison tin there?'
"Yes, here it is.' With a violently trembling hand she passed it to me.
I read the label. It was a well known name and the very look of it
sounded a knell in my mind recalling the many dead and dying animals
with which it was associated Its active ing
redient was zinc phosphide
and even today with our modern drugs we are usually helpless once a dog
has absorbed it.
I thumped the tin down on the table. "We've got to make him vomit
immediately! I don't want to waste time going back to the surgery have
you got any washing soda? If I push a few crystals down it'll do the
trick.'
"Oh dear!' Mrs Butterworth bit her lip. "We 'aven't such a thing in the
house .. . is there anything else we could .. .'
"Wait a minute!' I looked across the table, past the piece of cold
mutton, the tureen of potatoes and a jar of pickles. "Is there any
mustard in that pot?'
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~o )4d vel In rlarness just after I had washed it, smearing clay
lavishly over windows and bodywork while exchanging pleasantries with
Sam inside. When Benjamin made a mess of anything he did it right.
But I had to interrupt my musings when I reached the last stage of my
journey. And as I hung on to the kicking, jerking wheel and listened to
the creaking and groaning of springs and shock absorbers, the thought
forced its way into my mind as it always did around here that it cost us
money to come to Mr Summergill's farm. There could be no profit from the
visit because this vicious track must knock at least five pounds off the
value of the car on every trip. Since Arnold did not have a car himself
he saw no reason why he should interfere with the primeval state of his
road.
It was simply a six foot strip of earth and rock and it wound and
twisted for an awful long way. The trouble was that to get to the farm
you had to descend into a deep valley before climbing through a wood
towards the house. I think going down was worse because the vehicle
hovered agonisingly on the top of each ridge before plunging into the
yawning ruts beyond; and each time, listening to the unyielding stone
grating on sump and exhaust I tried to stop myself working out the
damage in pounds, shillings and pence.
And when at last, mouth gaping, eyes popping, tyres sending the sharp
pebbles flying, I ground my way upwards in bottom gear over the last few
yards leading to the house I was surprised to see Arnold waiting for me
there alone. It was unusual to see him without Benjamin.
He must have read my questioning look because he jerked his thumb over
his shoulder.
"He's in "'house,' he grunted, and his eyes were anxious.
I got out of the car and looked at him for a moment as he stood there in
a typical attitude, wide shoulders back, head high. I have called him
'old' and indeed he was over seventy, but the features beneath the