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almost full circle over the back.

  To me, the tail nicely balanced the head which was undoubtedly a little

  too big for the body but Mr Partridge had been made to suffer for it.

  His old friends in Darrowby who, like all country folks, considered

  themselves experts with animals, were free with their comments. I had

  heard them at it. When Percy was young it was:

  "Time ye had that tail off, Rolie. Ah'll bite it off for ye if ye like.'

  And later, again and again. "Hey Rolie, you should've had that dog's

  tail off when he were a pup. He looks bloody daft like that.'

  When asked Percy's breed Mr Partridge always replied haughtily,

  "Sealyham Cross', but it wasn't as simple as that; the tiny body with

  its luxuriant bristling coat, the large, rather noble head with high,

  pricked ears, the short, knock-kneed legs and that tail made him

  a~baffling mixture.

  Mr Partridge's friends again were merciless, referring to Percy as a

  'tripe' ound' or a 'mouse-'ound' and though the little artist received

  these railleries with a thin smile I knew they bit deep. He had a high

  regard for me based simply on the fact that the first time I saw Percy I

  exclaimed quite spontaneously "What a beautiful little dog!' And since I

  have never had much time for the points and fads of dog breeding I

  really meant it.

  "Just what is wrong, Mr Partridge?' I asked. "I can't see anything

  unusual.'

  Again the little man appeared to be uneasy. "Well now, watch as he walks

  across the floor. Come, Percy my dear.' He moved away from me and the

  dog followed him.

  "No .. . no .. . I don't quite understand what you mean.'

  "Watch again.' He set off once more. "It's at his .. . his er .. . back

  end.'

  I crouched down. "Ah now, yes, wait a minute. Just hold him there, will

  you?'

  I went over and had a close look. "I see it now. One of his testicles is

  slightly enlarged.'

  "Yes .. . yes .. . quite.' Mr Partridge's face turned a shade pinker.

  "That is ... er .. . what I thought.'

  "Hang on to him a second while I examine it.' I lifted the scrotum and

  palpated gently. "Yes, the left one is definitely bigger and it is

  harder too.'

  "Is it .. . anything serious?'

  I paused. "No, I shouldn't think so. Tumours of the testicles are not

  uncommon in dogs and fortunately they aren't inclined to metastasise

  spread through the body - very readily. So I shouldn't worry too much.'

  I added the last bit hastily because at the mention of the word 'tumour'

  the colour had drained from his face alarmingly.

  "That's a growth, isn't it?' he stammered.

  "Yes, but there are all kinds and a lot of them are not malignant. So

  don't worry but please keep an eye on him. It may not grow much but if

  it does you must let me know immediately.'

  "I see .. . and if it does grow?'

  "Well the only thing would be to remove the testicle.'

  "An operation?' The little man stared at me and for a moment I thought

  he would faint.

  "Yes, but not a serious one. Quite straightforward, really.' I bent down

  and felt the enlargement again. It was very slight. From the front end,

  Percy kept up a continuous musical growling. I grinned. He always did

  that - when I took his temperature, cut his nails, anything; a nonstop

  grumble and it didn't mean a thing. I knew him well enough to realise

  there was no viciousness in him; he was merely asserting his virility,

  reminding me what a tough fellow he was, and it was not idle boasting

  because for all his lack of size he was a proud, mettlesome little dog,

  absolutely crammed with character.

  After I had left the house I looked back and saw Mr Partridge standing

  there watching me. He was clasping and unclasping his hands.

  And even when I was back in the surgery half of me was still in that odd

  little studio. I had to admire Mr Partridge for doing exactly what he

  wanted to do because in Darrowby he would never get any credit for it. A

  good horseman or cricketer would be revered in the town but an artist ..

  . never. Not even if he became famous, and Mr Partridge would never be

  famous. A few people bought his paintings but he could not have lived on

  the proceeds. I had one of them hanging in our bed-sitter and to my mind

  he had a definite gift. In fact I would have tried to afford more of

  them but for the fact that he obviously shrank from: that aspect of the

  Yorkshire Dales which I loved most.

  If I had been able to paint I would have wanted to show how the walls

  climbed everywhere over the stark fell-sides. I would have tried to

  capture the magic of the endless empty moors with the reeds trembling

  over the black bog pools. But Mr Partridge went only for the cosy

  things; willows hanging by a rustic bridge, village churches,

  rose-covered cottages.

  Since Percy was a near neighbour I saw him nearly every day, either from

  our bed-sitter at the top of the house or from the surgery below. His

  master exercised him with great zeal and regularity and it was a common

  sight to see the artist passing on the other side of the road with the

  little animal trotting proudly beside him. But from that distance it was

  impossible to see if the tumour was progressing, and since I heard

  nothing from Mr Partridge I assumed that all was well. Maybe that thing

  had grown no more. Sometimes it happened that way.

  Keeping a close watch on the little dog reminded me of other incidents:

  connected with him, particularly the number of times he was involved in

  a fight. Not that Percy ever started a brawl - at ten inches high he

  wasn't stupid enough for that - but somehow big dogs when they saw that

  dainty white figure prancing along were inclined to go for him on sight.

  I witnessed some of these attacks from our windows and the same thing

  happened every time; a quick flurry of limbs, a snarling and yelping and

  then the big dog retreated bleeding. Percy never had a mark on him -

  that tremendous thick coat gave him complete protection - but he always

  got a nip in~from underneath. I had stitched up several of the local

  street fighters after Percy had finished with them.

  It must have been about six weeks later when Mr Partridge came in again.

  He looked tense.

  "I'd like you to have a look at Percy again, Mr Herriot.'

  I lifted the dog on to the surgery table and I didn't need to examine

  him very closely..

  "It's quite a lot bigger, I'm afraid.' I looked across the table at the

  little man.

  "Yes, I know.' He hesitated. "What do you suggest?'

  "Oh there's no doubt at all he'll have to come in for an operation. That

  thing must come off.' :

  Horror and despair flickered behind the thick spectacles.

  "An operation!' He leaned on the table with both hands.

  "I hate the idea, I just can't bear the thought of it!'

  I smiled reassuringly. "I know how you feel, but honestly there's

  nothing to worry about. As I told you before, it's quite a simple

  procedure.'

  "Oh I know, I know,' he moaned. "But I don't want him to be .. . cut

  about