Vet in Harness Read online

I don't think I have ever seen anybody leave a room as quickly as that

  man His chair overturned, there was a scurry, a scrapjng of hobnails,

  the clattering of fieeing feet in the passage then the banging of the

  outside door.

  He was gone, never to return .. .

  I don't think there is much doubt that we held an earthy fascination for

  our medical colleagues. They were constantly drifting in to watch us at

  work, particularly my own doctor, Harry Allinson, whose bald head often

  hovered over me as I operated on the small animals.

  "I've got to hand it to you boys,' he used to say. "When we come up

  against a surgical case we write a note to the hospital but you just

  switch on the steriliser.'

  He was interested, too, in our work with the microscope. It intrigued

  him that we should spend so much time peering down at skin scrapings for

  mange, blood films for anthrax milk and sputum smears for tuberculosis.

  "Sometimes I think you are a really scientific chap, Jim,' he would

  laugh. "Then I see you with your instruments.'

  He was referring to the occasions when he met me coming out of the

  surgery in the morning carrying my kit for the round; the grisly docking

  knives, firing tools, tooth forceps and dehorning shears which are now

  mercifully consigned to the museum. He would lift them from my arms and

  examine them wonderingly. ' You put the horse's tail in there, do you?

  And you bring the blade down like this .. . bang .. . just like a

  guillotine .. . my God!'

  I felt the same way myself.

  Harry Allinson's towering, wide-shouldered frame was part of the scenery

  of Darrowby. He was a Scot, like so many of the doctors in Yorkshire, a

  great athlete in his youth, a scratch golfer and an ebullient

  personality. One of his main characteristics was sheer noisiness and it

  was his habit to march into his patients' homes shouting and banging

  about. He was to deliver both my children and years later when one or

  the other was ill I have heard him come hollering into the house .. .

  "Anybody in? Who's there? Come on, let's be having you!' And it was

  wonderful how the little measles-ridden form revived and began to shout

  back at him.

  It was rewarding, too, to discover the gentleness and understanding

  behind the uproar Those qualities were always there when people needed

  them.

  Although he saw so much of my own work I was unable, naturally enough,

  to see him in action apart from when he was attending my own family.

  There was one time, however, when I did have a peep behind the curtain.

  I was called to see a lame cart horse and as I walked on to the farm I

  was surprised to see the vast form of Gobber Newhouse almost obscuring

  the view. The entire twenty stones of him was leaning on a shovel and he

  appeared to be part of a gang of building workers putting up a new barn.

  "Nah then, Herriot,' he said affably, 'what've ye been killin' this

  morning'?' He followed this typical sally with a throaty chuckle and

  looked round at his colleagues for applause.

  I gave him a nod and passed by. Fortunately I didn't often see Gobber

  but 4/4

  Vet In llarness when I did he always addressed me as "Herriot' and he

  invariably got in some little dig. And incidentally this was the first

  time I had ever observed him going through the motions of work; the

  Labour Exchange must have put some pressure on him because normally his

  life consisted of drinking, gambling, fighting and knocking his

  long-suffering little wife about.

  I spent some time with the horse's hind foot resting on my knee as I

  pared away at the sole. But there was no sign of pus and the only

  abnormality was a smelly disintegration of the horn around the frog.

  "He's got thrush,' I said to the farmer. "This doesn't often make them

  lame but he has shed quite a lot of horn and some of the sensitive

  tissues are exposed. I'll leave you some lotion for him.'

  I was walking back to get the bottle from the car when I saw there was

  some kind of commotion among the builder's men. They were standing in a

  group around Gobber who was seated on an upturned milk pail. He had his

  boot off and was anxiously examining his foot.

  The foreman called over to me. "Are you going straight back to Darrowby,

  Mr Herriot?'

  "Yes, I am.'

  "Well maybe you wouldn't mind givin' this feller a lift. He's stood on a

  nail - went clean through his boot. Could you take him to a doctor?'

  "Yes, of course.' I went over and viewed the fat man whose mates seemed

  to be enjoying the situation.

  "Here's the vet come to see ye, Gobber,' one of them cried. "He'll soon

  fix you up. He's been doctorin' t'oss's foot, now he can do yours. Will

  we haud 'im down for ye, Mr Herriot?'

  Another peered gloomily at the punctured wound on the foot. "By Gaw,

  this is a 'elf of a farm for lockjaw, Gobber. Ah'm afraid ye'll die a

  'orrible death.'

  The big man was not amused. His face was a tragic mask and the eflort of

  hauling his foot into view above his enormous belly made him shake

  uncontrollably.

  I opened the car door and, supported by a man on either side, he limped

  with many facial contortions across the farmyard. At first I thought

  we'd never be able to get him into the little vehicle and he groaned

  piteously as we pushed, pulled and finally wedged him into the passenger

  seat.

  As we headed along the road to Darrowby he cl~eared his throat

  nervously.

  "Mr Herriot,' he said. It was the first time he had ever accorded me

  a'mister'. "Is it true that where there's a lot of 'osses there's more

  lockjaw?'

  "Yes, I should say so,' I replied.

  He swallowed. "There's allus been a lot of 'osses at that farm, hasn't

  there?'

  "There has indeed.'

  "And what .. .' He passed a hand across his forehead. "What kind of . ..

  _ .. . cuts gets lockjaw in them?'

  I saw no reason to be merciful. "Oh, deep punctured wounds like you

  have. Especially in the feet.'

  "Oh bloody 'elf!' moaned Gobber. Like many bullies he was a big baby

  when his own hide was in danger.

  Watching him sweating there I relented a little.

  "Don't worry,' I said. "The doctor will give you a little shot and

  you'll have nothing to worry about.'

  The big man squirmed and wrung his hands. "Ah but I don't like

  "'needle.'

  "It's nothing, really,' I said, with only the slightest touch of sadism.

  "Just a quick jab.'

  "Oh bloody 'ell!'

  : 1

  . 1

  1

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  ~" At the surgery Harry Allinson gave us a cold look as we staggered in.

  He had attended a few of Mrs Newhouse's black eyes and he didn't approve

  of Gobber.

  "Right, Jim,' he grunted. "Leave him to me.'

  I was about to go when Gobber caught at my sleeve.

  "Stay with me, Mr Herriot!' he whimpered. The man was in a pitiable

  state of fright and I looked questioningly at the doctor.

  Harry shrugged. "OK, you can stay and hold his hand if that's what he

  wants.