Vet in Harness

by James Herriot

"Good boy, Magnus,' I said ingratiatingly as I advanced towards him.

  The little dog eyed the bandage unwinkingly until it was almost touching

  his nose then, with a surprising outburst of ferocity, he made a

  snarling leap at my hand. I felt the draught on my fingers as a row of

  sparkling teeth snapped shut half an inch away, but as he turned to have

  another go my free hand clamped on the scruff of his neck.

  "Right, Mr Beckwith,' I said calmly, "I have him now. Just pass me that

  bandage again and I won't be long.'

  But the young man had had enough. "Not me!' he gasped. "I'm off!' He

  turned the door handle and I heard his feet scurrying along the passage.

  Ah well, I thought, it was probably best. With boss dogs my primary move

  was usually to get the owner out of the way. It was surprising how

  quickly these tough guys calmed down when they found themselves alone

  with a no-nonsense stranger who knew how to handle them. I could recite

  a list who were raving tearaways in their own homes but apologetic

  tail-waggers once they crossed the surgery threshold. And they were all

  bigger than Magnus.

  Retaining my firm grip on his neck I unwound another foot of bandage and

  as he fought furiously, mouth gaping, lips retracted like a scaled-down

  Siberian wolf, I slipped the loop over his nose, tightened it and tied

  the knot behind his 34z vel zn rlarness ears. His mouth was' now clamped

  shut and just to make sure, I applied a second bandage so that he was

  well and truly trussed.

  This was when they usually packed in and I looked confidently at the dog

  for signs of submission. But above the encircling white coils the eyes

  glared furiously and from within the little frame an enraged growling

  issued, rising and falling like the distant droning of a thousand bees.

  Sometimes a stern word or two had the effect of showing them who was

  boss.

  "Magnus!' I barked at him. "That's enough! Behave yourself.' I gave his

  neck a shake to make it clear that I wasn't kidding but the only

  response was a sidelong squint of pure defiance from the slightly

  bulging eyes.

  I lifted the clippers. "All right,' I said wearily, 'if you won't have

  it one way you'll have it the other.' And I tucked him under one arm,

  seized a paw and began to clip.

  He couldn't do a thing about it. He fought and wriggled but I had him as

  in a vice. And as I methodically trimmed the overgrown nails, wrathful

  bubbles escaped on either side of the bandage along with his

  splutterings. If dogs could swear I was getting the biggest cursing in

  history.

  I did my job with particular care, taking pains to keep well away from

  the sensitive core of the claw so that he felt nothing, but it made no

  difference. The indignity of being mastered for once in his life was

  insupportable.

  Towards the conclusion of the operation I began to change my tone. I had

  found in the past that once dominance has been established it is quite

  easy to work up a friendly relationship, so I started to introduce a

  wheedling note.

  "Good little chap,' I cooed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?'

  I laid down the clippers and stroked his head as a few more resentful

  bubbles forced their way round the bandage. "All right, Magnus, we'll

  take your muzzle off now.' I began to loosen the knot. "You'll feel a

  lot better then, won't you?'

  So often it happened that when I finally removed the restraint the dog

  would apparently decide to let bygones be bygones and in some cases

  would even lick my hand. But not so with Magnus. As the last turn of

  bandage fell from his nose he made another very creditable attempt to

  bite me.

  "All right, Mr Beckwith,' I called along the passage, 'you can come and

  get him now.'

  My final memory Of the visit was of the little dog turning at the top of

  the surgery steps and - ne a last dirty look befor, his master led him

  down the street.

  It sai~

  /

  .

  ~.

  ~t, mate, I won't forget you.'

  ~ver since that day the very sound of my voice was his disapproval. At

  first the regulars treated it started to look at me strangely. Maybe

  they nal or something. It was all very embarrassing ~e Drovers; the bar

  was always cosy even on onsistent. b I would probably have started to do

  my h~ve Inok~rl ~t me even more strangely s~ ~ "~.

  ~es ~c~ ~ ~ "s Irish Setter. This started with an towal~'o>9~ ~O ~e s ~}

  - ~ the bath. Helen knocked on the d b~ ~o~ -~ ~little t(sk ~O ~, -~,~

  ~rew on my dressing gown I ran The knacke. ~j~6~,t around s~ v ,~

  ~anxious voice burst in my ear.

  was difficult to im~5 ~enough, shuret~d~, >~ two days and a man has just

  but I fancied the puffsi ~kw~t ra~se ~ith hic fn~t in ~ ~rin tr~n H~

  ... N - ... ~ ~. ~ _

  must .. .' I heard a half sob at the end of the line. "He must have been

  caught there all this time.'

  "Oh, I'm sorry! Is it very bad?'

  "Yes it is.' Mrs Hammond was the wife of one of the local bank managers

  and a capable, sensible woman. There was a pause and I imagined her

  determinedly gaining control of herself. When she spoke her voice was

  calm.

  "Yes, I'm afraid it looks as though he'll have to have his foot

  amputated.'

  "Oh, I'm terribly sorry to hear that.' But I wasn't really surprised. A

  limb compressed in one of those barbarous instruments for forty-eight

  hours would be in a critical state. These traps are now mercifully

  illegal but in those days they often provided me with the kind of jobs I

  didn't want and the kind of decisions I hated to make. Did you take a

  limb from an uncomprehending animal to keep it alive or did you bring

  down the merciful but final curtain of euthanasia? I was responsible for

  the fact that there were several three-legged dogs and cats running

  around Darrowby and though they seemed happy enough and their owners

  still had the pleasure of their pets, the thing, for me, was clouded

  with sorrow.

  Anyway, I would do what had to be done.

  "Bring him straight round, Mrs Hammond,' I said.

  Rock was a big dog but he was the lean type of Setter and seemed very

  light as I lifted him on to the surgery table. As my arms encircled the

  unresisting body I could feel the rib cage sharply ridged under the

  skin.

  "He's lost a lot of weight,' I said.

  His mistress nodded. "It's a long time to go without food. He ate

  ravenously when he came in, despite his pain.'

  I put a hand beneath the dog's elbow and gently lifted the leg. The

  vicious teeth of the trap had been clamped on the radius and ulna but

  what worried me was the grossly swollen state of the foot. It was at

  least twice its normal size.

  "What do you think, Mr Herriot?' Mrs Hammond's hands twisted anxiously

  at the handbag which every woman seemed to bring to the surgery

  irrespective of the circumstances.

  I stroked the dog's head. Under the light, the rich sheen of the coat

  glowed red and gold. "This terrific swelling of the foot. It's partly

 
due to inflammation but also to the fact that the circulation was pretty

  well cut off for the time he was in the trap. The danger is gangrene -

  that's when the tissue dies and decomposes.'

  "I know,' she replied. "I did a bit of nursing before I married.'

  Carefully I lifted the enormous foot. Rock gazed calmly in front of him

  as I felt around the metacarpals and phalanges, working my way up to the

  dreadful wound.

  "Well, it's a mess,' I said, 'but there are two good things. First, the

  leg isn't broken. The trap has gone right down to the bone but there is

  no fracture. And second and more important, the foot is still warm.'

  "That's a good sign?'

  "Oh yes. It mea.ls there's still some circulation. If the foot had been

  cold and clammy the thing would have been hopeless. I would have had to

  amputate.'

  "You think you can save his foot, then?'

  I held up my hand. "I don't know, Mrs Hammond. As I say, he still has

  some circulation but the question is how much. Some of this tissue is

  bound to slough off and things could look very nasty in a few days. But

  I'd like to try.'

  I fiushed out the wound with a mild antiseptic in warm water and

  gingerly explored the grisly depths. As I snipped away the pieces of

  damaged muscle and cut off the shreds and fiaps of dead skin the thought

  was uppermost that it must be extremely unpleasant for the dog; but Rock

  held his head high and scarcely .

  ~ _

  V G'; I rl l l "r rl G-~a fiinched. Once or twice he turned his head

  towards me enquiringly as I probed deeply and at times I felt his moist

  nose softly brushing my face as I bent over the foot, but that was all.

  The injury seemed a desecration. There are few more beautiful dogs than

  an Irish Setter and Rock was a picture; sleek coated and graceful with

  silky feathers on legs and tail and a noble, gentle-eyed head. As the

  thought of how he would look without a foot drove into my mind I shook

  my head and turned quickly to lift the sulphanilamide powder from the

  trolley behind me. Thank heavens this was now available, one of the new

  revolutionary drugs, and I packed it deep into the wound with the

  confidence that it would really do something to keep down the infection.

  I applied a layer of ganze then a light bandage with a feeling of

  fatalism. There was nothing else I could do.

  Rock was brought in to me every day. And every day he endured the same

  procedure; the removal of the dressing which was usually adhering to the

  wound to some degree, then the inevitable trimming of the dying tissues

  and the rebandaging. Yet, incredibly, he never showed any reluctance to

  come. Most of my patients came in very slowly and left at top speed,

  dragging their owners on the end of the leads; in fact some turned tail

  at the door, slipping their collar and sped down Trengate with their

  owners in hot pursuit. Dogs aren't so daft and there is doubtless a

  dentist's chair type of association about a vet's surgery.

  Rock, however, always marched in happily with a gentle waving of his

  tail. In fact when I went into the waiting room and saw him sitting

  there he usually d me his paw. This had always been a characteristic

  gesture of his but ' comething uncanny about it when I bent over him and

  saw the ~ctretched towards me.

  3

  ~ GL 6~. ~ 10, ,BG~J ;

  nose he ~ c~ cc cq "All rig`. ~c him now.' ~ ~S :, My final n. surgery

  steps ai-. street.

  It sai~

  s$

  ~.~:

  ~, ~"} ~C, ~ ~) ~o ~ V~ ~o Brim. All the time the dead tissue had been I

  the dressing Mrs Hammond gasped '-~1 been very helpful, holding ~ht she

  didn't want <~3. ~

  NSC6~3 ~n~ ~,~ Wo ~, c 7 towa~: ~little~0; ~, ;~o~

  The knack~e.~ ~ it around s~ was difficult to im"~% ~enough, suret~ ', >

  ~ ~

  ~ ~eckwlth raised ~ ~"j ~/

  but I tancled the punst. ~/

  uld be overing .. "It does : road and fectly intact. e IS no more

  anulating.' covered over?'

  . be exactly the "T'!

  ew healthy tissue right and when, .ck of conjunctivitis e civility and

  as we /as hairless, smooth jid. ~h. And he walked in:

  ., ~., Mrs Hammond laughed. "Oh, he's quite sound on that leg now. And

  do you know. I really think he's grateful to you - look at him.'

  I suppose the animal psychologists would say it was ridiculous even to

  think that the big dog realised I had done him a bit of good; that

  lolling-tongued open mouth, warm eyes and outstretched paw didn't mean

  anything like that.

  Maybe they are right, but what I do know and cherish is the certainty

  that after all the discomforts I had put him through Rock didn't hold a

  thing against me.

  I have to turn back to the other side of the coin to discuss Timmy

  Butterworth. He was a wire-haired Fox Terrier who resided in Gimber's

  yard, one of the little cobbled alleys off Trengate, and the only time I

  had to treat him was one lunch time.

  I had just got out of the car and was climbing the surgery steps when I

  saw a little girl running along the street, waving frantically as she

  approached. I waited for her and when she panted up to me her eyes were

  wide with fright.

  "Ah'm Wendy Butterworth,' she gasped. "Me mam sent me. Will you come to

  our dog?'

  "What's wrong with him?'

  "Me mam says he's et summa"!'

  "Poison?'

  "Ah think so?'

  It was less than a hundred yards away, not worth taking the car. I broke

  into a trot with Wendy by my side and within seconds we were turning

  into the narrow archway of the 'yard'. Our feet clattered along the

  tunnel-like passage then we emerged into one of the unlikely scenes

  which had surprised me so much when I first came to Darrowby; the

  miniature street with its tiny crowded houses, strips of garden, bow

  windows looking into each other across a few feet of cobbles. But I had

  no time to gaze around me today because Mrs Butterworth, stout,

  red-faced and very flustered was waiting for me.

  "He's in 'ere, Mr Herriot!' she cried and threw wide the door of one of

  the cottages. It opened straight into the living room and I saw my

  patient sitting on the hearth rug looking somewhat thoughtful.

  "What's happened, then?' I asked.

  The lady clasped and unclasped her hands. "I saw a big rat run down

  across t'yard yesterday and I got some poison to put down for 'im.' She

  gulped agitatedly. "I mixed it in a saucer full o' porridge then

  somebody came to t'door and when ah came back, Timmy was just finishin'

  it off.'

  The terrier's thoughtful expression had deepened and he ran his tongue

  slowly round his lips with the obvious reflection that that was the

  strangest porridge he had ever tasted.

  I turned to Mrs Butterworth. "Have you got the poison tin there?'

  "Yes, here it is.' With a violently trembling hand she passed it to me.

  I read the label. It was a well known name and the very look of it

  sounded a knell in my mind recalling the many dead and dying animals

  with which it was associated Its active ing
redient was zinc phosphide

  and even today with our modern drugs we are usually helpless once a dog

  has absorbed it.

  I thumped the tin down on the table. "We've got to make him vomit

  immediately! I don't want to waste time going back to the surgery have

  you got any washing soda? If I push a few crystals down it'll do the

  trick.'

  "Oh dear!' Mrs Butterworth bit her lip. "We 'aven't such a thing in the

  house .. . is there anything else we could .. .'

  "Wait a minute!' I looked across the table, past the piece of cold

  mutton, the tureen of potatoes and a jar of pickles. "Is there any

  mustard in that pot?'

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  ~o )4d vel In rlarness just after I had washed it, smearing clay

  lavishly over windows and bodywork while exchanging pleasantries with

  Sam inside. When Benjamin made a mess of anything he did it right.

  But I had to interrupt my musings when I reached the last stage of my

  journey. And as I hung on to the kicking, jerking wheel and listened to

  the creaking and groaning of springs and shock absorbers, the thought

  forced its way into my mind as it always did around here that it cost us

  money to come to Mr Summergill's farm. There could be no profit from the

  visit because this vicious track must knock at least five pounds off the

  value of the car on every trip. Since Arnold did not have a car himself

  he saw no reason why he should interfere with the primeval state of his

  road.

  It was simply a six foot strip of earth and rock and it wound and

  twisted for an awful long way. The trouble was that to get to the farm

  you had to descend into a deep valley before climbing through a wood

  towards the house. I think going down was worse because the vehicle

  hovered agonisingly on the top of each ridge before plunging into the

  yawning ruts beyond; and each time, listening to the unyielding stone

  grating on sump and exhaust I tried to stop myself working out the

  damage in pounds, shillings and pence.

  And when at last, mouth gaping, eyes popping, tyres sending the sharp

  pebbles flying, I ground my way upwards in bottom gear over the last few

  yards leading to the house I was surprised to see Arnold waiting for me

  there alone. It was unusual to see him without Benjamin.

  He must have read my questioning look because he jerked his thumb over

  his shoulder.

  "He's in "'house,' he grunted, and his eyes were anxious.

  I got out of the car and looked at him for a moment as he stood there in

  a typical attitude, wide shoulders back, head high. I have called him

  'old' and indeed he was over seventy, but the features beneath the