Vet in Harness Read online

which regularly won at the local events and occasionally at the national

  trials. And what was troubling me was that Gyp was his main hope.

  He had picked out the two best pups from a litter - Gyp and Sweep and

  had trained them with the dedication that had made him a winner. I don't

  think I have ever seen two dogs enjoy each other quite as much; whenever

  I was on the farm I would see them together, sometimes peeping nose by

  nose over the half door of the loose box where they slept, occasionally

  slinking devotedly round the feet of their master but usually just

  playing together. They must have spent hours rolling about in ecstatic

  wrestling matches, growling and panting, gnawing gently at each other's

  limbs.

  A few months ago George Crossley, one of Mr Wilkin's oldest friends and

  a keen trial man, had lost his best dog with nephritis and Mr Wilkin had

  let him have Sweep. I was surprised at the time because Sweep was

  shaping better than Gyp in his training and looked like turning out a

  real champion. But it was Gyp who remained. He must have missed his

  friend but there were other dogs on the farm and if they didn't quite

  make up for Sweep he was never really lonely.

  As I watched, I could see the dog recovering rapidly. It was

  extraordinary how soon normality was restored after that frightening

  convulsion. And I waited with some apprehension to hear what his master

  would say.

  The cold, logical decision for him to make would be to have Gyp put down

  and, looking at the friendly, tail-wagging animal I didn't like the idea

  at all. There was something very attractive about him. The big-boned,

  well-marked body was handsome but his most distinctive feature was his

  head where one ear somehow contrived to stick up while the other lay

  flat, giving him a lop-sided, comic appeal. Gyp, in fact, looked a bit

  of a clown. But a clown who radiated goodwill and camaraderie.

  Mr Wilkin spoke at last. "Will he get any better as he grows older?'

  "Almost certainly not,' I replied.

  "Then he'll always 'ave these fits?'

  "I'm afraid so. You say he has them every two or three weeks - well it

  will probably carry on more or less like that with occasional

  variations.'

  "But he could have one any time?'

  "Yes.'

  "In the middle of a trial, like.' The farmer sunk his head on his chest

  and his voice rumbled deep. "That's it, then.'

  In the long silence which followed, the fateful words became more and

  more inevitable Sep Wilkin wasn't the man to hesitate in a matter which

  concerned his ruling passion. Ruthless culling of any animal which

  didn't come up to standard would be his policy. When he finally cleared

  his throat I had a sinking premonition of what he was going to say.

  : ~

  "If I kept him, could you do anything for him?' he asked.

  "Well I could give you some pills for him. They might decrease the

  frequency of the fits.' I tried to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

  "Right .. . right .. . I'll come into "'surgery and get some,' he

  muttered.

  "Fine. But .. . er .. . you won't ever breed from him, will you?' I

  said.

  "New, new, new,' the farmer grunted with a touch of irritability as

  though he didn't want to pursue the matter further.

  And I held my peace because I felt intuitively that he did not want to

  be detected in a weakness; that he was prepared to keep the dog simply

  as a pet. It was funny how events began to slot into place and suddenly

  make sense. That was why he had let Sweep, the superior trial dog, go.

  He just liked Gyp. In fact Sep Wilkin, hard man though he may be, had

  succumbed to that off-beat charm So I shifted to some light chatter

  about the weather as I walked back to the car, but when I was about to

  drive off: the farmer returned to the main subject.

  "There's one thing about Gyp I never mentioned,' he said, bending to the

  window. "I don't know whether it has owl to do with the job or not. He

  has never barked in his life.' . I looked at him in surprise. "You mean

  never, ever?'

  "That's right. Not a single bark. T'other dogs make a noise when

  strangers come on the farm but I've never heard Gyp utter a sound since

  he was born.'

  "Well that's very strange,' I said. "But I can't see that it is

  connected with his condition in any way.'

  And as I switched on the engine I noticed for the first time that while

  a bitch and two half grown pups gave tongue to see me on my way Gyp

  merely regarded me in his comradely way, mouth open, tongue lolling, but

  made no noise. A silent dog.

  The thing intrigued me. So much so that whenever I was on the farm over

  the next few months I made a point of watching the big sheepdog at

  whatever he was doing. But there was never any change. Between the

  convulsions which had settled down to around th"- intervals he was a

  normal active happy animal. But soundl~r I saw h; ~ m~r~-r ^~ ~ ~`

  ~A~

  master came in to market. Gyp was car, but if I happened to speak to Mr

  iubject because, as I said, I had the :~ ~uld hate to be exposed in

  keeping a 5 ~ ~ ,C o O ~on that most farm dogs were more of course

  indispensable working doubt performed a function in teem on my daily

  rounds I often at haytime, chasing rats among ings or roaming the fields

  at the they really do?

  es - as when I was trying to tried to get into the act by ~oarse yell

  of'siddown, dog!'

  mind as .5, ~ ;~ accuracy into . , ~, ~, G_ ~~ ~. It was the kino .~~,$

  ~c ~ ~ . theory; most farm dogs are thoughtful and methoo~., '~ ~s`;' G

  ~ ~ ~ ~' likes to have them around. the fielders clawed at the u~ ~3` ~

  ~ ~im to admit it but I think frantic note. ~.,` ~ ~ c ~o nderful time.

  They don't And all the time we were creepin ~V .~0 in the company of

  their had fallen we had reached a hundred ano . ~ \s dog, knowing the

  man .

  won't be far away. I try to give my own dogs a good life but it cannot

  compare with the life of the average farm dog.

  There was a long spell when Sep Wilkin's stock stayed healthy and I

  didntt seec either him or Gyp, then I came across them both by accident

  at a sheepdog trial It was a local event run in conjunction with the

  Mellerton Agricultural Show and since I was in the district I decided to

  steal an hour off.

  I took Helen with me, too, because these trials have always fascinated

  us. The wonderful control of the owners over their animals, the intense

  involvement of the dogs themselves, the sheer skill of the whole

  operation always held us spellbound.

  She put her arm through mine as we went in at the entrance gate to where

  a crescent of cars was drawn up at one end of a long field. The field

  was on the river's edge and through a fringe of trees the afternoon

  sunshine glinted on the tumbling water of the shallows and turned the

  long beach of bleached stones to a dazzling white. Groups of men, mainly

  competitors, stood around chatting as they watched. They were quiet,

  easy, bronzed men and as they seemed to be drawn from all social strata

  fr