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organo-pl phases, but the little animal declined steadily It was about

  a month after his death that I was called to the house again. ~

  Skipper was in his basket and when I called to him he slowly raised his

  h.

  His face was pinched and fleshless and the filmed eyes regarded me with

  recognition.

  "Come on, lad," I said encouragingly.

  "Let's see you get out of there."

  Jack Sanders shook his head.

  "It's no good, Mr Herriot. He never leaves basket now and when we

  lift him out he's almost too weak to walk. Another thing . . . he

  makes a mess down here in the kitchen during the night. Th something

  he's never done."

  It was like the tolling of a sad bell. Everything he said pointed to a

  dog in last stages of senility. I tried to pick my words.

  _ _~ -----~- - ---- - -- r-- ~ "I'm sorry, Jack, but it all sounds as

  if the old chap has come to the end of the road. I don't think

  fretting could possibly cause all this."

  He didn't speak for a moment. He looked at his wife then down at the

  forlorn little creature.

  "Well of course this has been in the back of our minds. But w.

  kept hoping he would start to eat. What . . . what do you suggest?"

  I could not bring myself to say the fateful words.

  "It seems to me that we c' stand by and let him suffer. He's just a

  little skeleton and I can't think get ting any pleasure out of his life

  now."

  "I see," he said.

  "And I agree. He lies there all day he has no interest' Vet in a Spin

  anything." He paused and looked at his wife again.

  "I tell you what, Mr Herriot.

  Let us think it over till tomorrow. But you do think there's no

  hope?"

  yes, Jack, I do. Old dogs often go this way at the end. Skipper has

  just cracked up he's finished, I'm afraid."

  He drew a long breath.

  "Right, if you don't hear from me by eight o'clock tomorrow morning,

  please come and put him to sleep."

  I had small hope of the call coming and it didn't. In those early days

  of our marriage Helen worked as a secretary for one of the local

  millers. We often started our day together by descending the long

  flights of stairs from our bed sitter and I would see her out of the

  front door before get ting ready for my round.

  This morning she gave me her usual kiss before going out into the

  street but then she looked at me searchingly.

  "You've been quiet all through breakfast Jim. What's the matter?"

  "It's nothing, really. Just part of the job," I said. But when she

  kept her steady gaze on me I told her quickly about the Sanders.

  She touched my arm.

  "It's such a shame, Jim, but you can't let your sad cases depress you.

  You'd never survive."

  "Aagh, I know that. But I'm a softy, that's my trouble. Sometimes I

  think I should never have been a vet."

  "You're wrong there," she said.

  "I couldn't imagine you as anything else.

  You'll do what you have to do, and you'll do it the right way." She

  kissed me again, turned and ran down the steps.

  It was mid morning before I drew up outside the Sanders' home. I

  opened the car boot and took out the syringe and the bottle of

  concentrated anaesthetic which would give the old dog a peaceful and

  painless end.

  The first thing I saw when I went into the kitchen was a fat little

  white puppy waddling across the floor.

  I looked down in astonishment.

  "What's this . . .?

  Mrs Sanders gave me a strained smile,

  "Jack and I had a talk yesterday. We couldn't bear the idea of not

  having a dog at all, so we went round to Mrs Palmer who bred Jing and

  found she had a litter for sale. It seemed like fate.

  We've called him Jingo, too."

  "What a splendid idea!" I lifted the pup which squirmed in my hand,

  grunted in an obese manner and tried to lick my face. This, I felt,

  would make my unpleasant task easier.

  "I think you've been very sensible."

  I lifted the bottle of anaesthetic unobtrusively from my pocket and

  went over to the basket in the corner. Skipper was still curled in the

  unheeding ball of yesterday and the comforting thought came to me that

  all I was going to do was push him a little further along the journey

  he had already begun.

  I pierced the rubber diaphragm on the bottle with my needle and was

  about to withdraw the barbiturate when I saw that Skipper had raised

  his head. Chin resting on the edge of the basket, he seemed to be

  watching the pup. Wearily his eyes followed the tiny creature as it

  made its way to a dish of milk and began to lap busily. And there was

  something in his intent expression which had not been there for a long

  time.

  I stood very still as the corgi made a couple of attempts then heaved

  himself to a stan ding position. He almost fell out of the basket and

  staggered on shaking legs across the floor. When he came alongside the

  pup he remained there, swaying' for some time, a gaunt caricature of

  his former self, but as I watched ~n disbelief, he reached forward and

  seized the little white ear in his mouth.

  Stoicism is not a characteristic of pups and Jingo the Second yelped

  shrilly as the teeth squeezed. Skipper, undeterred, continued to gnaw

  with rapt concentration.

  !722 Vet in a Spin Vet in a Spin 723 I dropped bottle and syringe back

  in my pocket.

  "Bring him some food," I said Speaker was Seth Pilling, a casual

  labourer and a well known character in : quietly. Darrow by He was

  designated a labourer, but in truth he didn't labour unduly Mrs Sanders

  hurried to the pantry and came back with a few pieces of meat: and his

  burly frame and red meaty face was a common sight around the Labour on

  a saucer. Skipper continued his ear-nibbling for a few moments then

  sniffed exchange where he signed for his unemployment pay.

  the pup unhurriedly from end to end before turning to the saucer. He

  hardly, "Aye, 'e's got no idea. Knaws nowt about dogs." The big man

  tipped about had the strength to chew but he lifted a portion of meat

  and his jaws moves half a pint over his throat in one swallow.

  slowly. "He's not a bad hand wi' cows," another voice broke in "Good

  heavers!" Jack Sanders burst out.

  "That's the first thing he's eaten for' "Aye, maybe, but I'm not

  talkie' about bloody awd cows," Seth retorted days! "witheringly

  "I'm talkie' about dogs: Ye need skill to doctor dogs."

  , His wife seized my arm.

  "What's happened, Mr Herriot? We only got the' A third man spoke

  up.

  "Well, 'e's a vitnery, isn't he?"

  puppy because we couldn't have a house without a dog." "Aye a knew he

  is, but there's all kind o'vitneries and this 'un's a dead loss.

  "Well, it looks to me as though you've got two again." I went over to

  the coo' Ah could tell ye some tales about this feller."

  ~i! and smiled back at the two people watching fascinated as the corgi

  swallower They say an eavesdropper never hears anything good about

  himself, and