Vet in a Spin Read online

  "Yes."

  "Well, will you tell me please?"

  "It's myxoedema."

  "Myx . . . ?"

  "Wait a minute," I said.

  "I'll just make absolutely sure." I reached for my stethoscope and put

  it on the dog's chest. And the bradycardia was there as I expected,

  the slow, slow heartbeat of hypothyriodism.

  "Yes, that's it. Not a shadow of a doubt about it."

  "What did you call it?"

  "Myxoedema. It's a thyroid deficiency there's a gland in his neck

  which isn't doing its job properly."

  "And that makes 'is hair fall out?"

  "Oh yes. And it also causes this typical scaliness and wrinkling of

  the skin."

  "Aye, but he's half asleep all t'time. How about that?"

  "Another classical symptom. Dogs with this condition become very

  lethargic - lose all their energy."

  She reached out and touched the dog's skin, bare and leathery where

  once the coat had through in bushy glory.

  "And can you cure it?"

  / ~ ~ "Now Mr Herriot, don't take this the wrong way, but could you be

  mistaken Are ye positive it's this myxi-whatever-it-is?"

  "Of course I am. It's a straightforward case."

  .

  .........~ . ~ ~ . - ~ ... _ . _ ~, "Straightforward to you, maybe."

  She flushed and appeared to be grinding h' teeth.

  "But not straightforward to that clever husband o' mine The great

  lubber When ah think what he's put me good dog through ah could kill

  'im."

  "Well, I suppose he thought he was acting for the best, Mrs Pilling."

  "Ah don't care what he thought, he's made this poor dog suffer, the big

  fool.

  Wait till ah get hold of 'im."

  I gave her a supply of tablets.

  "These are thyroid extract, and I want you to give him one night and

  morning" I also handed her a bottle of potassium iodide which I had

  found helpful in these cases. : She looked at me doubtfully.

  "But surely he'll want sum mat rubbed on 'is skin."

  "No," I replied.

  "Applications to the skin do no good at all."

  "Then you mean." She turned a dark purple colour and began snorting

  again.

  "You mean all them bottles o' filthy stuff me husband put on 'im were a

  waste o'time?"

  "Afraid so."

  "Oh Ah'll murder 'im!" she burst out.

  "Mucky, oily rubbish, it was. And that fancy feller in Braw ton sent

  some 'orrible lotion yeller it was, and stank the place out. Ruined me

  carpets and good chair covers an' all!" ~;~ Sulphur, whale oil and

  creosote, I thought. Splendid old fashioned ingredients.

  but quite useless in this case and definitely antisocial. - .

  Mrs Pilling heaved the keeshound to the floor and strode along the

  passagewaY head down, powerful shoulders hunched. I could hear her

  muttering to herself as she went.

  "By yaw, just wait till ah get home. Ah'll sort 'im, by gaw ah

  will!"

  I was naturally interested in the progress of my patient, and when I

  failed to see him around for the next fortnight I could only conclude

  that Seth Pilling' was keeping out of my way. Indeed there was one

  occasion when I thought I saw him and the dog disappearing down an

  alley, but I couldn't be sure.

  When I did see them both it was by accident. I was driving round the

  come' into the market place and I came upon a man and dog coming away

  from one of the stalls on the cobbles.

  And as I peered through the window I caught my breath. Even in that

  short~ space of time the animal's skin was covered with a healthy down

  of new hair.

  and he was stepping out with something very like his old vitality.

  His master swung round as I slowed down. He gave me a single hunted

  look then tugged on the lead and scuttled away. :~ I could only

  imagine the turmoil in his mind, the conflict of emotions. No?

  doubt he wanted to see his dog recover, but not this way. And as it

  turned out; the dice were loaded against the poor man because this was

  an unbelievably' rapid recovery. I have seen some spectacular cures in

  myxoedema, but none dramatic as that keeshound.

  Mr Pilling's sufferings were communicated to me in various ways. For

  instance I heard he had changed his pub and now went to the Red Bear of

  evening. In a little place like Darrow by, news fairly crackles around

  and I had a good idea that the farm men in the Crown and Anchor would

  have had a bit of quiet Yorkshire sport with the expert.

  But his main martyrdom was at home. It was about six weeks after I ha

  finished treating the dog that Mrs Pilling brought him to the

  surgery.

  ~,i c~ .,. ~ ~.,.

  , 4, As before, she lifted him easily on to the table and looked at me

  her face as bit grim and unsmiling. ' 'mr Herriot," she said.

  "Ah've just come to say thank ye, and ah thought you'd be interested to

  see me dog now."

  "I am indeed, Mrs Pilling. It's nice of you to come." I gazed

  wonderingly at the thick coat, bushy, shining and new, and at the

  sparkling eyes and alert expression

  "I think you can say he's about back to normal."

  She nodded.

  "That's what I thought and ah'm grateful to ye for what you've done."

  I walked with her to the front door and as she led her dog onto the

  street she turned her tough little face to me again. As the stern eyes

  met mine she looked very menacing "There's one thing," she said.

  "Ah'll never forgive that man o' mine for what he did to me dog. By

  gum, I've given 'im some stick, the great goof! He'll never hear the

  last of it from me."

  As she made off down the street, the little animal trotting briskly by

  her side I brimmed with pleasant emotions. It is al ways warming to

  see a case recover so well, but in this instance there was an

  additional bonus.

  For a long time little Mrs Pilling was going to give her husband pure

  hell.

  Chapter Six "Today," said FO Wood ham,

  "We're going to try a few new things. Spinning, side-slipping and how

  to come out of a stall." His voice was gentle, and before he pulled on

  his helmet he turned his dark, fine-featured face towards me and

  smiled. Walking over the grass I thought what a likeable chap he was.

  I could have made a friend of him.

  But he was al ways like that on the ground. He was altogether

  different in the air.

  Yet I could never understand it. Flying was no trouble at all, and as

  we spun and dropped and soared about the summer sky his instructions

  appeared simple and easy to carry out. But the rot, as al ways, began

  to set in very soon.

  "Didn't I tell you opposite rudder and stick to sideslip?" he bawled

  over the intercom.

  "Yes, sir," was all I replied, instead of the more appropriate,

  "That's just what I'm doing, you stupid bugger!" which I might have

  used in civil life.

  The goggled eyes bulged in the mirror.

  "Well why the bloody hell aren't you doing it?" His voice rose to a

  wild shriek.

  "Sorry, sir."

  "Well take her up. We'll try aga