Vet in a Spin Page 5

that's all ah want to know."

  The dressings went on for a few more weeks till finally Siegfried was

  satisfied that the last remnants of the dies ease had been extirpated.

  Then he telephoned for Mr Mount to collect his horse the following

  morning

  It is al ways nice to be in on a little triumph, and I looked over my

  boss's shoulder as he lifted Bobby's feet and displayed the finished

  job to the owner.

  The necrotic jumble on the soles had been replaced by a clean, smooth

  surface with no sign of moisture anywhere.

  Mr Mount was not enthusiastic by nature but he was obviously

  impressed.

  He nodded his head rapidly several times.

  "Well now, that's champion. I'm right capped wi' that."

  Siegfried lowered the foot to the ground and straightened with a

  pleased smile.

  There was a general air of bonhomie in the yard, and then I heard my

  car in the back lane.

  I felt a sudden tingle of apprehension. Oh no, Tristan, not this time,

  please.

  You don't know . . . My toes curled as I waited but I realised all was

  lost when the car turned in through the double doors. It had no

  driver.

  With a dreadful feeling of imminent catastrophe I watched as it stopped

  within a few feet of Siegfried and Mr Mount who were staring at it in

  disbelief.

  No thing happened for a few seconds, then without warning Tristan

  catapulted like a jack-in-the-box into the open window.

  "Yippeeee!" he screeched, but his happy grin froze as he found himself

  gazing into the faces of his brother and Mr Mount. Siegfried's

  expression of exasperation was familiar to me, but the farmer's was

  infinitely more menacing. The eyes in the stony visage were mere

  slits, the jaw jutted, the great tangle of eyebrows bristled fiercely.

  There was no doubt he had finally made up his mind about Tristan.

  I felt the young man had suffered enough, and I kept off the subject

  for a week or two afterwards, but we were sit ting in the big room at

  Skeldale House when he mentioned casually that he wouldn't be taking

  Deborah out any more.

  "Seems her father has forbidden it," he said.

  I shrugged in sympathy, but said nothing. After all, it had been an

  ill-starred romance from the beginning.

  . r Chapter Four ~. i ~.

  .

  "Circuits and bumps' they called it. Taking off, circling the field

  and land ~ over and over and over. After an hour of it with FO Wood

  ham in full voice:3 had had enough and it was a blessed relief when we

  climbed out at the end, As my instructor walked away, one of his fellow

  officers strolled by his side.

  "How are you get ting on with that chap, Woody?" he asked, smiling.

  FO Wood ham did not pause in his stride or turn his head.

  "Oh God!" he with a hollow groan, and that was all. .

  I knew I wasn't meant to hear the words but they bit deep. My spirits

  d' not rise till I entered the barrack hut and was greeted by the

  cheerful voices my fellow airmen.

  "Hello, Jim!" "How's it going, Jim?" The words were like balm.

  I looked around at the young men sprawled on their beds, reading or

  smoking and I realised that I needed them and their friendship. .

  Animals are the same. They need friends. Have you ever watched two

  animals in a field? They may be of different species a pony and a

  sheep but t hang together. This comradeship between animals had al

  ways fascinated and I often think of Jack Sanders's two dogs as a

  perfect example of mutual devotion.

  One of them was called Jingo and as I injected the local anaesthetic

  along the barbed wire tear in his skin the powerful white bull terrier

  whimpered once. Then he decided to resign himself to his fate and

  looked stolidly to front as I depressed the plunger.

  Meanwhile his inseparable friend, Skipper the corgi, gnawed gently at

  Jingo's' hind leg. It was odd to see two dogs on the table at once,

  but I knew relationship between them and made no comment as their

  master hoisted both up.

  After I had infiltrated the area around the wound I began to stitch and

  J relaxed noticeably when he found that he could feel nothing.

  "Maybe this'll teach you to avoid barbed wire fences in future, Jing,"

  I Jack Sanders laughed.

  "I doubt if it will, Mr Herriot. I thought the coast clear when ~k

  him down the lane this morning, but he spotted a dog on other fence and

  he was through like a bullet.

  Fortunately it ~ couldn't catch it." _ terror, Jing." I patted my

  patient, and withe big Roman-r th an ear-to-ear grin and at the other

  end the tail whit it?" his master said.

  "He's al ways loo king for a can do anything with him. He's the best

  natured Debo~. dropped the suture needle into a kidney dish o' e y

  remember that the bull terrier is the original En There was iabeying an

  age-old instinct."

  At last he manageo~eve to go on scannin~z the horizon every time can we

  do for you, Mr , vet In a ~pin /1/ ~Except this one, Jack." I

  laughed and pointed to the little corgi who had tired of his companions

  leg and was now chewing his ear.

  ~Yes, isn't it marvellous. I think he could bite Jing's ear off

  without reprisal."

  It was indeed rather wonderful. The corgi was eleven years old and

  beginning to show his age in stiffness of movement and impairment of

  sight while the bull terrier was only three, at the height of his

  strength and power. A squat, barrel-cheated bundle of bone and muscle,

  he was a formidable animal. But when the ear-chewing became too

  violent, all he did was turn and gently engulf skipper's head in his

  huge jaws till the little animal desisted. Those jaws could be as

  merciless as a steel trap but they held the tiny head in a loving

  embrace.

  Ten days later their master brought both dogs back to the surgery for

  the removal of the stitches. He looked worried as he lifted the

  animals on to the table.

  "Jingo isn't at all well, Mr Herriot," he said.

  "He's been off his food for a couple of days and he looks miserable.

  Could that wound make him ill if it turned septic?"

  "Yes it could, of course." I looked down anxiously at the area of the

  flank where I had stitched, and my fingers explored the long scar.

  "But there's not the slightest sign of infection here. No swelling, no

  pain. He's healed beautifully."

  I stepped back and looked at the bull terrier. He was strangely

  disconsolate tail tucked down, eyes gazing ahead with total lack of

  interest. Not even the busy nibbling of his friend at one of his paws

  relieved his apathy.

  Clearly Skipper didn't like being ignored in this fashion. He

  transferred his operations to the front end and started on the big

  dog's ear. As his efforts still went unnoticed he began to chew and

  tug harder, dragging the massive head down to one side, but as far as

  Jingo was concerned he might as well not have been there.

  "Hey, that's enough, Skipper," I said. 'ding isn't in the mood for

  rough stuff to-day."
I lifted him gently to the floor where he paced

  indignantly around the table legs.

  I examined the bull terrier thoroughly and the only significant finding

  was an elevated temperature.

  "It's a hundred and five, Jack. He's very ill, there's no doubt about

  that."

  "But what's the matter with him?"

  "With a high fever like that he must have some acute infection. But at

  the moment it's difficult to pinpoint." I reached out and stroked the

  broad skull, running my fingers over the curving white face as my

  thoughts raced.

  For an instant the tail twitched between his hocks and the friendly

  eyes rolled round to me and then to his master. It was that movement

  of the eyes which seized my whole attention. I quickly raised the

  upper lid. The conjunctive appeared to be a normal pink, but in the

  smooth white sclera I could discern the faintest tinge of yellow.

  "He's got jaundice," I said.

  "Have you noticed anything peculiar about his urine ?"

  Jack Sanders nodded.

  "Yes, now you mention it. I saw him cock his leg in the garden and his

  water looked a bit dark."

  "Those are bile pigments." I gently squeezed the abdomen and the dog

  winced slightly

  "Yes, he's definitely tender in there."

  "Jaundice' His master stared at me across the table.

  "Where would he get I rubbed my chin.

  "Well, when I see a dog like this I think firstly of two things

  phosphorus poisoning and leptospirosis. In view of the high

  temperature I go for the leptospirosis."

  would he catch it from another doe?"

  "Possibly, but more likely from rats. Does he come into contact with

  any rat, "Yes, now and then. There's a lot of them in an old hen house

  at the foot the lane and Jing sometimes gets in there after them."

  "Well that's it." I shrugged.

  "I don't think we need to look any further for cause."

  He nodded slowly.

  "Anyway, it's something to know what's wrong with h Now you can set

  about put ting him right."

  I looked at him for a moment in silence. It wasn't like that at all. I

  did want to upset him, but on the other hand he was a highly

  intelligent and sensible man in his forties, a teacher at the local

  school. I felt I had to tell him the wh, truth.

  "Jack," I said.

  "This is a terrible condition to treat. If there's one thing I h to

  see it's a jaundiced dog."

  "You mean it's serious?"

  "I'm afraid so. In fact the mortality rate is very high."

  I felt for him when I saw the sudden pain and concern in his face, but

  warning now was better than a shock later, because I knew that Jingo

  could ~ dead within a few days. Even now, thirty years later, I quail

  when I see that' yellowish discoloration in a dog's eyes. Penicillin

  and other antibiotics have some effect against the causal organism of

  leptospirosis but the disease is still very often fatal.

  "I see . . . I see . . ." He was collecting his thoughts.

  "But surely you can: something?"

  "Yes, yes, of course," I said briskly.

  "I'm going to give him a big shot antileptospiral serum and some

  medicine to administer by the mouth. It i' completely hopeless."

  r~ ~ - ~r~ - ~ -~ ~ I injected the serum in the knowledge that it

  didn't have much effect at ~ stage, but I had nothing else to offer. I

  gave Skipper a shot, too, with the hap' feeling that it would protect

  him against the infection.

  "One thing, more, Jack," I added.

  "This disease also affects humans, so please take all hygienic

  precautions when handling Jingo. All right?"

  He nodded and lifted the bull terrier from the table. The big dog, as

  most of my patients do, tried to hurry away from the disturbing

  white-coat-and-antiseptic atmosphere of the surgery. As he trotted

  along the passage his master turned' me eagerly. ~ "Look at that! He

  doesn't seem too bad, does he?"

  I didn't say anything. I hoped with all my heart that he was right,

  but I fighting off the conviction that this nice animal was doomed. At

  any rate I would soon know.

  I knew, in fact, next day. Jack Sanders was on the phone before nine

  o'clock in the morning

  "Jing's not so good," he said, but the tremor in his voice belied the

  lightness of his words.

  "Oh." I experienced the familiar drooping of the spirits.

  "What is he coin "No thing, I'm afraid. Won't eat a thing . . . lying

  around . . . just lifeless.

  J

  every now and then he vomits."

  It was what I expected, but I still felt like kicking the desk by my

  side."

  well, I'll be right round." There was no tail wags from Jing to-day.

  He was crouched before the] gazing listlessly into the coals. The

  yellow in his eyes had deepened to a orange and his temperature still

  soared. I repeated the serum injection, but the big dog did not heed

  the entry of the needle. Before I left I ran mhandddd the smooth white

  body and Skipper as ever kept burrowing in on his friend Jingo's

  thoughts were elsewhere, sunk in his inner misery.

  I visited him daily and on the fourth day I found him stretched almost

  Comatose on his side. The conjunctive, sclera, and the mucous

  membranes of the mouth were a dirty chocolate colour "Is he suffering?"

  Jack Sanders asked.

  I hesitated for a moment.

  "I honestly don't think he's in pain. Sickness, nausea, yes, but I'd

  say that's all."

  ~Well I'd like to keep on trying," he said.

  "I don't want to put him down even though you think it's hopeless. You

  do . . . don't you?"

  I made a non-committal gesture. I was watching Skipper who seemed

  bewildered. He had given up his worrying tactics and was sniffing

  round his friend in a puzzled manner. Only once did he pull very

  gently at the unresponsive I went through the motions with a feeling of

  helplessness and left with the unpleasant intuition that I would never

  see Jingo alive again.

  And even though I was waiting for it, Jack Sanders' phone call next

  morning was a bad start to the day.

  'ding died during the night, Mr Herriot. I thought I'd better let you

  know.

  You said you were coming back this morning" He was trying to be

  matter-of-fact.

  ' I'm sorry, Jack," I said.

  "I did rather expect . . ."

  "Yes, I know. And thank you for what you did."

  It made it worse when people were nice at these times. The Sanders

  were a childless couple and devoted to their animals. I knew how he

  was feeling.

  I stood there with the receiver in my hand.

  "Anyway, Jack, you've still got Skipper." It sounded a bit lame, but

  it did help to have the comfort of one remaining dog, even though he

  was old.

  "That's right," he replied.

  "We're very thankful for Skipper."

  I went on with my work. Patients died sometimes and once it was over

  it was almost a relief, especially when I knew in Jingo's case that the

  end was inevitable.

  But this
thing wasn't over. Less than a week later Jack Sanders was on

  the phone again.

  "It's Skipper," he said.

  "He seems to be going the same way as Jing."

  A cold hand took hold of my stomach and twisted it.

  "But . . . but . . . he can't be! I gave him the protective

  injection!"

  "Well, I don't know, but he's hanging around miserably and hardly eats

  a thing. He seems to be going down fast."

  I ran out and jumped into my car. And as I drove to the edge of the

  town where the Sanders lived my heart thudded and panicky thoughts

  jostled around in my mind. How could he have got the infection? I had

  little faith in the serum as a cure but as a prevention I felt it was

  safe. I had even given him a second shot to make sure. The idea of

  these people losing both their dogs was bad enough but I couldn't bear

  the thought the second one might be my fault.

  The little corgi trailed unhappily across the carpet when he saw me and

  I lifted him quickly on to the kitchen table. I almost snatched at his

  eyelids in my anxiety but there was no sign of jaundice in the sclera

  nor in the mucous membranes of the mouth. The temperature was dead

  normal and I felt a wave of relief.

  "He hasn't got leptospirosis, anyway," I said.

  mrs Sanders clasped her hands.

  "Oh thank God for that. We were sure it was the same thing. He looks

  so awful."

  I examined the little animal meticulously and when I finished I put my

  Stethoscope in my pocket.

  "Well, I can't find much wrong here. He's got a bit f a heart murmur

  but you've known about that for some time. He's old after e all, ' "Do

  you think he could be fretting for Jing?" Jack Sanders asked.

  "Yes, I do. They were such friends. He must feel lost."

  "But he'll get over that, won't he?"

  "Oh of course he will. I'll leave some mild sedative tablets for him

  and I' sure they'll help."

  I met Jack a few days later in the market place.

  "How is Skipper?" I asked.

  He blew out his cheeks.

  "About the same. Maybe a bit worse. The trouble he eats practically

  nothing he's get ting very thin." :.

  I didn't see what else I could do but on the following day I looked in

  at t Sanders' as I was passing.

  I was shocked at the little corgi's appearance, Despite his age he had

  been cocky and full of bounce, and when Jing was alive he had been

  indisputably boss dog. But now he was utterly deflated. He looked at

  me with lack-lustre eyes as I came in, then crept stiffly to his basket

  where he curled himself though wishing to shut out the world.

  I examined him again. The heart murmur seemed a little more pronoun

  but there was nothing else except that he looked old and decrepit and

  done. ] "You know, I'm beginning to wonder if he really is fretting,"

  I said.

  "It could be just his age catching up on him. After all, he'll be

  twelve in the spring, w, he?"

  Mrs Sanders nodded.

  "That's right. Then you think ... this could be end ?" '.

  "It's possible." I knew what she was thinking. A couple of weeks ago

  healthy dogs rolling around and playing in this house and now there

  could s be none.

  "But isn't there anything else you can do?"

  "Well I can give him a course of digitalis for his heart. And perhaps

  would bring in a sample of his urine. I want to see how his kidneys

  Vet in a Spin functioning." ..

  I tested the urine. There was a little albumen, but no more than you

  would expect in a dog of his age. I ruled out nephritis as a cause.

  As the days passed I tried other things; vitamins, iron tonics,