Let Sleeping Vets Lie Read online

  envied him his massive authority as he stumped, bowler-hatted and

  glowering around each animal, leaning occasionally on his stick as he

  took stock of the points. I couldn't imagine anyone daring to argue with

  him.

  It was late in the afternoon when the loudspeaker called me to my final

  duty. The Family Pets contestants were arranged on wooden chairs drawn

  up in a wide circle on the turf. They were mainly children but behind

  them an interested ring of parents and friends watched me warily as I

  arrived.

  The fashion for exotic pets was still in its infancy but I experienced a

  mild shock of surprise when I saw the variety of creatures on show. I

  suppose I must have had a vague mental picture of a few dogs and cats

  but I walked round the circle in growing bewilderment looking down at

  rabbits - innumerable rabbits of all sizes and colours - guinea pigs,

  white mice, several budgerigars, two tortoises, a canary, a kitten, a

  parrot, a mynah bird, a box of puppies, a few dogs and cats and a

  goldfish in a bowl. The smaller pets rested on their owners" knees, the

  others squatted on the ground.

  How, I asked myself was I going to come to a decision here? How did you

  choose between a parrot and a puppy, a budgie and a bulldog, a mouse and

  a mynah? Then as I circled it came to me, it couldn't be done. The only

  way was to question the children in charge and find which ones looked

  after their pets best which of them knew most about their feeding and

  general husbandry. I rubbed my hands together and repressed a chuckle of

  satisfaction; I had something to work on now.

  I don't like to boast but I think I can say in all honesty that I

  carried out an exhaustive scientific survey of that varied group. From

  the outset I adopted an attitude of cold detachment, mercilessly

  banishing any ideas of personal preference . If I had been pleasing only

  myself I would have given first prize to a gleaming black Labrador

  sitting by a chair with massive composure and offering me a gracious paw

  every time I came near. And my second would have been a i benevolent

  tabby - I have always had a thing about tabby cats - which rubbed its

  cheek against my hand as I talked to its owner. The pups, crawling over

  each other and grunting obesely, would probably have come third. But I

  put away these unworthy thoughts and pursued my chosen course.

  I was distracted to some extent by the parrot which kept saying "Hellow"

  in a voice of devastating refinement like a butler answering a telephone

  and the mynah which repeatedly adjured me to "Shut door as you go out,"

  in a booming Yorkshire baritone.

  The only adult in the ring was a bosomy lady with glacial pop eyes and a

  white poodle on her knee. As I approached she gave me a challenging

  stare as though defying me to place her pet anywhere but first.

  "Hello, little chap," I said, extending my hand. The poodle responded by

  drawing its lips soundlessly back from its teeth and giving me much the

  same kind of look as its owner. I withdrew my hand hastily.

  "Oh you needn't be afraid of trim," the lady said frigidly. "He won't

  hurt you."

  I gave a light laugh. "I'm sure he won't." I held out my hand again.

  "You're a nice little dog, aren't you?" Once more the poodle bared his

  teeth and when I persevered by trying to stroke his ears he snapped

  noiselessly, his teeth clicking together an inch from my fingers.

  "He doesn't like you, I can see that. Do you, darling?" The lady put her

  check against the dog's head and stared at me distastefully as though

  she knew just how he felt.

  "Shut door as you go out," commanded the mynah gruffy from somewhere

  behind me.

  I gave the lady my questionnaire and moved on.

  And among the throng there was one who stood out; the little boy with

  the goldfish. In reply to my promptings he discoursed knowledgeably

  about his fish, its feeding, life history and habits. He even had a fair

  idea of the common diseases. The bowl, too, was beautifully clean and

  the water fresh; I was impressed.

  When I had completed the circuit I swept the ring for the last time with

  a probing eye. Yes, there was no doubt about it; I had the three prize

  winners; fixed in my mind beyond any question and in an order based on

  strictly scientific selection. I stepped out into the middle.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," I said, scanning the company with an affable

  smile.

  "Hellow," responded the parrot fruitily.

  I ignored him and continued. "These are the successful entrants. First,

  number . six, the goldfish. Second, number fifteen, the guinea pig. And

  third, number ten, the white kitten." ;4

  I half expected a little ripple of applause but there was none. In fact

  my ., announcement was greeted by a tight-lipped silence. I had noticed

  an immediate change in the atmosphere when I mentioned the goldfish. It

  was striking - a sudden cold wave which swept away the expectant smiles

  and replaced them with discontented muttering.

  I had done something wrong, but what? I looked around helplessly as the

  hum of voices increased. "What do you think of that, then?"

  "Not fair, is it?" 3

  ~Wouldn't have thought it of him?"

  "All them lovely rabbits and he hardly looked at them."

  I couldn't make it out, but my job was done, anyway. I pushed between

  the chairs and escaped to the open field.

  "Shut door as you go out," the mynah requested in deepest bass as I

  departed.

  I sought out Tristan again. The atmosphere in the beer tent had changed,

  too The drinkers were long since past their peak and the hilarious babel

  which had met me on my last visit had died to an exhausted murmur There

  was a general air of satiation. Tristan, pint in hand, was being

  addressed with great solemnity by a man in a flat cap and braces. The

  man swayed slightly as he grasped Tristan's free hand and gazed into his

  eyes. Occasionally he patted him on the shoulder with the utmost

  affection. Obviously my colleague had been forging deep and lasting

  friendships in here while I was making enemies outside.

  I sidled up to him and spoke into his ear. "Ready to go soon, Triss?"

  He turned slowly and looked at me. "No, old lad," he said, articulating

  carefully. "I'm afraid I shall't be coming with you. They're having a

  dance here on the showfield later and Doreen has consented to accompany

  me." He cast a loving glance across the counter at the red-head who

  crinkled her nose at him.

  I was about to leave when a snatch of conversation from behind made me

  pause.

  "A bloody goldfish!" a voice was saying disgustedly.

  "Aye, it's a rum 'un, George," a second voice replied.

  There was a slurping sound of beer being downed.

  "But the knows, Fred," the first voice said. "That vet feller had to do

  it. Didn't 'ave no choice. He couldn't pass over "'squire's son."

  "Reckon you're right, but it's a bugger when you get graft and

  corruption in ""Family Pets."

  A heavy sigh, then "It's the way things are nowadays, Fred. Everything's

  hulterior.