Vet in a Spin Read online

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  The necrotic jumble on the soles had been replaced by a clean, smooth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