All Things Wise and Wonderful Read online

  “Eh?”

  “I say she won’t take a step outside unless we squeak Emmeline at her, and then they both go out together. Even then she just trails along like an old dog, and she’s only three after all. You know how lively she is normally.”

  I nodded. I did know. This little poodle was a bundle of energy. I had seen her racing around the fields down by the river, jumping to enormous heights as she chased a ball. She must be suffering from something pretty severe, but so far I was baffled.

  And I wished the lady wouldn’t keep on about Emmeline and the squeaking. I shot a side glance at David. I had been holding forth to him, telling him how ours was a scientific profession and that he would have to be really hot at physics, chemistry and biology to gain entrance to a veterinary school, and it didn’t fit in with all this.

  Maybe I could guide the conversation along more clinical lines.

  “Any more symptoms?” I asked. “Any cough, constipation, diarrhoea? Does she ever cry out in pain?”

  The lady shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. She just looks around looking at us with such a pitiful expression and searching for Emmeline.”

  Oh dear, there it was again. I cleared my throat. “She never vomits at all? Especially after a meal?”

  “Never. When she does eat a little she goes straight away to find Emmeline and takes her to her basket.”

  “Really? Well I can’t see that that has anything to do with it. Are you sure she isn’t lame at times?”

  The lady didn’t seem to be listening. “And when she gets Emmeline into her basket she sort of circles around, scratching the blanket as though she was making a bed for the little thing.”

  I gritted my teeth. Would she never stop? Then a light flashed in the darkness.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Did you say making a bed?”

  “Yes, she scratches around for ages then puts Emmeline down.”

  “Ah yes.” The next question would settle it. “When was she last in season?”

  The lady tapped a finger against her cheek. “Let me see. It was in the middle of May—that would be about nine weeks ago.”

  There wasn’t a mystery any more.

  “Roll her over, please,” I said.

  With Lucy stretched on her back, her eyes regarding the surgery ceiling with deep emotion, I ran my fingers over the mammary glands. They were turgid and swollen. I gently squeezed one of the teats and a bead of milk appeared.

  “She’s got false pregnancy,” I said.

  “What on earth is that?” The lady looked at me, round-eyed.

  “Oh, it’s quite common in bitches. They get the idea they are going to have pups and around the end of the gestation period they start this business. Making a bed for the pups is typical, but some of them actually swell in the abdomen. They do all sorts of peculiar things.”

  “My goodness, how extraordinary!” The lady began to laugh. “Lucy, you silly little thing, worrying us over nothing.” She looked at me across the table. “How long is she going to be like this?”

  I turned on the hot tap and began to wash my hands. “Not for long. I’ll give you some tablets for her. If she’s not much better in a week come back for more. But you needn’t worry—even if it takes a bit longer she’ll be her old self in the end.”

  I went through to the dispensary, put the tablets in a box and handed them over. The lady thanked me then turned to her pet who was sitting on the tiled floor looking dreamily into space.

  “Come along Lucy,” she said, but the poodle took no notice. “Lucy! Do you hear me? We’re going now!” She began to walk briskly along the passage but the little animal merely put her head on one side and appeared to be hearkening to inward music. After a minute her mistress reappeared and regarded her with some exasperation. “Oh really, you are naughty. I suppose there’s only one way.” She opened her handbag and produced the rubber toy.

  “Squeak-squeak,” went Emmeline and the poodle raised her eyes with misty adoration. “Squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak.” The sound retreated along the passage and Lucy followed entranced until she disappeared round the corner.

  I turned to David with an apologetic grin. “Right,” I said. “We’ll get out on the road. I know you want to see farm practice and I assure you it’s vastly different from what you’ve seen here.”

  Sitting in the car, I continued. “Mind you, don’t get me wrong. I’m not decrying small animal work. In fact I’d have to admit that it is the most highly skilled branch of the profession and I personally think that small animal surgery is tremendously demanding. Just don’t judge it all by Emmeline. Anyway, we have one doggy visit before we go out into the country.”

  “What’s that?” the lad asked.

  “Well, I’ve had a call from a Mr. Rington to say that his dalmatian bitch has completely altered her behaviour. In fact she’s acting so strangely that he doesn’t want to bring her to the surgery.”

  “What do you think that might be?”

  I thought for a moment. “It seems a bit silly, but the first thing that comes to my mind is rabies. This is the most dreadful dog disease of all, but thank heaven we’ve managed to keep it out of this country so far by strict quarantine regulations. But at college it was hammered into us so forcibly that it is always at the back of my mind even though I don’t really expect to see it. But this case of the dalmatian could be anything. I only hope she hasn’t turned savage because that’s the sort of thing that leads to a dog being put down and I hate that.”

  Mr. Rington’s opening remark didn’t cheer me.

  “Tessa’s become really fierce lately, Mr. Herriot. Started moping about and growling a few days ago and frankly I daren’t trust her with strangers now. She nailed the postman by the ankle this morning. Most embarrassing.”

  My spirits sank lower. “Actually bit somebody!” Mr. Rington went on. “It’s unbelievable—she’s such a softie. I’ve always been able to do anything with her.”

  “I know, I know,” he muttered. “She’s marvellous with children, too. I can’t understand it. But come and have a look at her.”

  The dalmatian was sitting in a corner of the lounge and she glanced up sulkily as we entered. She was a favourite patient and I approached her confidently.

  “Hello, Tessa,” I said, and held out my hand. I usually had a tail-lashing, tongue-lolling welcome from this animal but today she froze into complete immobility and her lips withdrew silently from her teeth. It wasn’t an ordinary snarl—it was as though the upper lip was operated by strings and there was something unnerving about it.

  “What’s the matter, old girl?” I enquired, and again the gleaming incisors were soundlessly exposed. And as I stared uncomprehendingly I could see that the eyes were glaring at me with blazing primitive hatred. Tessa was unrecognizable.

  “Mr. Herriot.” Her owner looked at me apprehensively. “I don’t think I’d go any nearer if I were you.”

  I withdrew a pace. “Yes, I’m inclined to agree with you. I don’t think she’d cooperate if I tried to examine her. But never mind, tell me all about her.”

  “Well, there’s really nothing more to tell,” Mr. Kington said helplessly. “She’s just different—like this.”

  “Appetite good?”

  “Yes, fine. Eats everything in front of her.”

  “No unusual symptoms at all?”

  “None, apart from the altered temperament. The family can handle her, but quite frankly I think she’d bite any stranger who came too near.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “Any change in family circumstances? New baby? Different domestic help? Unusual people coming to the house?”

  “No, nothing like that. There’s been no change.”

  “I ask because animals sometimes act like this put of jealousy or disapproval.”

  “Sorry.” Mr. Rington shrugged his shoulders. “Everything is just as it’s always been. Only this morning my wife was wondering if Tessa was still cross with us because we kept her indoors for