every step. Then he stopped abruptly and held the offending limb out,
quivering, behind him .. . good heavens, maybe he was a shiverer, too!
The farmer kept his eyes on me and seemed oblivious of the interest of
the passers-by. There were quite a few people in the street, probably
bound for the early show at the cinema, but for the moment they appeared
to find Mr Grainger more entertaining.
"And that's not all,' he cried. "There's summat wrang with his
watterworks.'
"Really? How do you mean?'
"Why 'e can't stale properly. Has a 'ell of a job. Gets himself all
wraxed up Mr Grainger went into another of his impersonations - that of
a horse having difficulty in passing urine - and I had to admit it was
probably his best yet. He planted his stick firmly on the pavement and
holding the top with both hands he backed away from it till his body was
parallel with the ground. Then he began to straddle his legs further and
further apart. The knot of people on the other side of the road had
increased to a fair-sized crowd and they stared, fascinated, at the
extraordinary sight. Mr Grainger was indeed the very picture of equine
suffering and as he hollowed his back and paddled his wide-spaced feet I
could almost share the desperate battle for release. When he finally
raised his head and groaned the effect was harrowing.
When all was finished Mr Grainger did as he always did - gave me a cold
nod and stumped off without a word. There was no need for him to say,
"See you next Saturday'. I knew he'd be back.
Then there was Mr Grimsdale. His attitude towards me was something I
couldn't quite make out, but I did know that he always had a depressing
effect on me. He did this by the simple expedient of telling me that I
didn't look very well.
I thought back to the visit to his farm yesterday when he had called me
to a cow with a cut teat. He was a tall cadaverous man with sunken
cheeks and a mournful expression - he would have made a wonderful
undertaker - and he looked at me in his own particular way as I got out
of the car.
I wondered what it would be today. My own conviction is that you should
never tell anybody they don't look well, no matter what you think. And
Mr Grimsdale's little sallies bit especially deeply because he always
referred to me in agricultural terms as though I were one of his
bullocks.
"You've lost a bit o' ground lately, young man,' he would say, directing
a piercing glance from my face down to my feet and down again. "Aye,
you're rosin' ground fast - it's plain to see.'
Or another time it might be, "You've run off a bit, Mr Herriot. There's
no doubt you've run off.' And his stick would twitch in his hand as if
he would have liked to give me an exploratory poke.
But today he didn't say anything until I had finished stitching the teat
and was washing my hands in a bucket of water. Then as I straightened up
he adopted his usual stance; throwing up his head and jutting his chin
he appraised me gloomily.
"You've failed since ah last saw you, young man. Soon as you walked
across t'yard this morning ah thought to meself, aye that lad's failed
over t'last week or two.'
And as the sharp eyes bored into me from behind the long pointed nose
his viewpoint was plain. He, at any rate, could contemplate the prospect
of my early demise with some compassion but without going to pieces.
I worked up a sickly smile as I always did.
"Oh, I'm fine, Mr Grimsdale, never felt better.' But the voice had an
uncertain quaver and I knew by my sinking stomach that his shaft had
gone home again. And then there was the usual humiliating business when
I had driven away. I always stopped the car just round the corner where
a high curve of wall hid me from the farm.
Staring into the car mirror I put out my tongue, pulled down my eyelids
to have a look at my mucous membranes and muttered desperately as though
Mr Grimsdale was still there.
"I feel fine, really I do .. . fine .. . fine .. .'
Talking of farmers' attitudes to their vets, I think it is fair to say
that in Robert Hewison's cheerful household, though Siegfried's prowess
as an animal doctor was highly regarded, his main claim to fame was as a
judge of Christmas cake.
Mrs Hewison was a baker of great repute and when she started long before
the festive season to stir up vast quantities of fruit and candied peel
and butter and all the other things that went into her peerless cakes it
failure - her cakes varied from excellent to superb but once the long
process had been completed and the last piece of marzipan and icing
applied she dearly loved to have the accolade from an expert. And in her
eyes Siegfried was number one.
Robert Hewison confided in me once: "The knows, my missus is never
content till your guvnor's had a taste.'
I was privileged to be present on one of these occasions. It was a few
days before Christmas and Siegfried and I had gone together to Robert's
farm to lift a horse which had got cast in its stall. We did the job
successfully with the aid of slings and a block and tackle and Robert,
as always, asked us into the house.
The farmer's wife, her dark, rather solemn face illumined by friendly
eyes, ushered us to the two tall wooden chairs by the fireside.
"Come and get warmed up, gentleman,' she said. "And you'll have a drink
and a bit o' cake, won't you?'
"You're very kind, Mrs Hewison,' replied Siegfried. "That would be
lovely.'
He sat down, but I went through to the offshoot of the kitchen to wash
my hands at the sink. The farmer's wife was cutting at a large cake on a
table nearby. She nudged me and whispered conspiratorially.
"This isn't me own cake. It's one me sister baked, but I'm not telling
Mr Farnon that. We'll just see what he says.'
I stared at her. "But is that quite fair? Hadn't you better tell him?'
"No, I want to have his true judgement, so I'm not sayin' a word.'
I went back to the kitchen with some misgiving. It was unlike this lady
to play jokes, but maybe after years of unqualified approbation she
wanted to put my colleague's sincerity to the test. Anyway, I hoped
nothing unfortunate would happen.
As I took my place by the fire Robert and his three sons; came in and
sat around in a circle. I was given a piece of cake, too, but nobody
paid any attention to me; all eyes were on Siegfried.
"I'd like to know what you think of t'cake this year, Mr Farnon,' our
hostess said.
My colleague toasted the family gracefully, sipped at his whisky then
lifted the plate with its slice of cake. Silence fell upon the company.
Holding the plate in the palm of his hand he studied the cake carefully
from various angles before breaking off a fair-sized piece. This he
massaged gently between thumb and forefinger for a few moments, his eyes
half closed. Then after sniffing at it a couple of times he put it in
his mouth.
I could feel the ten
sion building in the room as he chewed gravely, his
face quite expressionless. When he had finally swallowed the portion he
smacked his lips once or twice meditatively then turned his head and
looked full at Mrs Hewison Amid a deathly hush they gazed into each
other's eyes for several long seconds but Siegfried still didn't say
anything. Instead he reached for his glass again and took another drink
of whisky which he seemed to wash around his mouth before breaking off
another portion of cake.
He took a long time over this piece, chewing in a slow motion, his eyes,
deadly serious, staring sightlessly in front of him. Robert, the boys,
all of us, leaned a little forward in our chairs, as he finally
swallowed the last crumb, wiped his lips and sat immobile, apparently
wrapped in thought. Then as he clearly came to a decision he sat upright
in his chair, straightened his shoulders and turned resolutely towards
the lady of the house once more.
Siegfried was and is a man of the highest principle. Over the years I
have known him he has always given his opinions truthfully, fearlessly
and with a total disregard of the consequences; and though this trait
ruffled the stream of his life on occassion, there were times, as now,
when it stood him in good stead.
"Mrs Hewison,' he said, his eyes steady and unwavering. "This is a good
cake.' He paused. "A very good cake indeed.' He hesitated again and I
could see the real iron in the man coming out. "But if you will permit
me, I'm bound to say that it is not up to your usual standard.'
Mrs Hewison, usually an undemonstrative person, burst into a loud cry of
delight and Robert and his sons, who were obviously in on the joke,
roared and clapped their hands.
Siegfried looked around in some surprise at the sudden tumult which went
on and on as though somebody had scored a goal in the cup final. He was
previous exalted position in the household was now utterly impregnable.
Chapter Thirteen.
I was back at Granville Bennett's again. Back in the tiled operating
theatre with the great lamp pouring its harsh light over my colleague's
bowed head, over the animal nurses, the rows of instruments, the little
animal stretched on the table.
Until late this afternoon I had no idea that another visit to Hartington
was in store for me; not until the doorbell rang as I was finishing a
cup of tea and I went along the passage and opened the door and saw
Colonel Bosworth on the step. He was holding a wicker cat basket.
"Can I trouble you for a moment, Mr Herriot?' he said.
His voice sounded different and I looked up at him questioningly. Most
people had to look up at Colonel Bosworth with his lean six feet three
inches and his tough soldier's face which matched the DSO and MC which
he had brought out of the war. I saw quite a lot of him, not only when
he came to the surgery but out in the country where he spent most of his
time hacking along the quiet roads around Darrowby on a big hunter with
two Cairn terriers trotting behind. I liked him. He was a formidable man
but he was unfailingly courteous and there was a gentleness in him which
showed in his attitude to his animals.
"No trouble,' I replied. "Please come inside.'
In the waiting room he held out the basket. His eyes were strained and
there was shock and hurt in his face.
"It's little Maudie,'he said.
"Maudie .. . your black cat?' When I had been to his house the little
creature had usually been in evidence, rubbing down the colonel's
ankles, jumping on his knee competing assiduously with the terriers for
his attention.
"What's the matter, is she ill?'
"No .. . no .. .' He swallowed and spoke carefully. "She's had an
accident, I'm afraid.'
"What kind of accident?'
"A car struck her. She never goes out into the road in front of the
house but for some reason she did this afternoon.'
"I see.' I took the basket from him. "Did the wheel go over her?'
"No, I don't think it can have done that because she ran back into the
house afterwards.'
"Oh well,' I said. "That sounds hopeful. It probably isn't anything very
much.'
The colonel paused for a moment. "Mr Herriot, I wish you were right but
it's .. . rather frightful. It's her face you see. Must have been a
glancing blow but I .. . really don't see how she can live.'
"Oh .. . as bad as that .. . I'm sorry. Anyway come through with me and
I'll have a look.'
He shook his head. "No, I'll stay here if you don't mind. And there's
just one thing.' He laid his hand briefly on the basket. "If you think,
as I do, that it's hopeless, please put her to sleep immediately. She
must not suffer any more.'
I stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment then hurried along the
passage to the operating room. I put the basket on the table, slid the
wooden rod from its loops and opened the lid. I could see the sleek
little black form crouched in the depths and as I stretched my hand out
gingerly towards it the head rose slowly and turned towards me with a
long, open-mouthed wail of agony.
And it wasn't just an open mouth. The whole lower jaw was dangling
uselessly, the mandible shattered and splintered, and as another
chilling cry issued from the basket I had a horrific glimpse of jagged
ends of bone gleaming from the froth of blood and saliva.
I closed the basket quickly and leaned on the lid.
"Christ!' I gasped. "Oh Christ!'
I closed my eyes but couldn't dispel the memory of the grotesque face,
the terrible sound of pain and worst of all the eyes filled with the
terrified bewilderment which makes animal suffering so unbearable.
With trembling haste I reached behind me to the trolley for the bottle
of Nembutal. This was the one thing vets could do, at any rate; cut
short this agony with merciful speed. I pulled 5 c.c.'s into the
syringe; more than enough - she'd drift into sleep and never wake up
again. Opening the basket I reached down and underneath the cat and
slipped the needle through the abdominal skin; an intraperitoneal
injection would have to do. But as I depressed the plunger it was as
though a calmer and less involved person was tapping me on the shoulder
and saying, "Just a minute, Herriot, take it easy. Why don't you think
about this for a bit?'
I stopped after injecting 1 c.c. That would be enough to anaesthetise
Maudie. In a few minutes she would feel nothing. Then I closed the lid
and began to walk about the room. I had repaired a lot of cats' broken
jaws in my time; they seemed to be prone to this trouble and I had
gained much satisfaction from wiring up symphyseal fractures and
watching their uneventful healing. But this was different.
After five minutes I opened the basket and lifted the little cat, sound
asleep and as limp as a rag doll, on to the table.
I swabbed out the mouth and explored with careful fingers, trying to
piece the grisly jigsaw together. The sym
physis had separated right
enough and that could be fastened together with wire, but how about
those mandibular rami, smashed clean through on both sides - in fact
there were two fractures on the left. And some of the teeth had been
knocked out and others slackened; there was nothing to get hold of.
Could they be held together by metal plates screwed into the bone? Maybe
.. . and was there a man with the skill and equipment to do such a job
.. .? I thought I just might know one.
I went over the sleeping animal carefully; there wasn't a thing amiss
except that pathetic drooping jaw. Meditatively I stroked the smooth,
shining fur. She was only a young cat with years of life in front of her
and as I stood there the decision came to me with a surge of relief and
I trotted back along the passage to ask the colonel if I could take
Maudie through to Granville Bennett.
It had started to snow heavily when I set out and I was glad it was
downhill all the way to Hartington; many of the roads higher up the Dale
would soon be impassable on a night like this.
In the Veterinary Hospital I watched the big man drilling, screwing,
stitching. It wasn't the sort of job which could be hurried but it was
remarkable how quickly those stubby fingers could work. Even so, we had
been in the theatre for nearly an hour and Granville's complete
absorption showed in the long silences broken only by the tinkling of
instruments, occasional barking commands and now and then a sudden flare
of exasperation. And it wasn't only the nurses who suffered; I had
scrubbed up and had been pressed into service and when I failed to hold
the jaw exactly as my colleague desired he exploded in my face.
"Not that bloody way, Jim! .. . What the hell are you playing at? ..
. No, no, ... ... .no, no, no! Oh God Almighty!'
But at last all was finished and Granville threw off his cap and turned
away from the table with that air of finality which had made me envy him
the first time. He was sweating. In his office he washed his hands,
towelled his brow, and pulled on an elegant grey jacket from the pocket
of which he produced a pipe. It was a different pipe from last time; I
learned in time that all Granville's pipes were not only beautiful but
big and this one had a bowl like a fair-sized coffee cup. He rubbed it
gently along the side of his nose, gave it a polish with the yellow
cloth he always seemed to carry and held it lovingly against the light.
"Straight grain, Jim. Superb, isn't it?'
He contentedly scooped tobacco from his vast pouch, ignited it and
puffed a cloud of delectable smoke at me before taking me by the arm.
"Come on, laddie. I'll show you round while they're clearing up in
there.'
We did a tour of the hospital, taking in the waiting and consulting
rooms, X-ray room, dispensary and, of course, the office with its
impressive card index system with case histories of all patients, but
the bit I enjoyed most was walking along the row of heated cubicles
where an assortment of animals were recovering from their operations.
Granville stabbed his pipe at them as we went along. "Spay, enterotomy,
aural haematoma, entropion.' Then he bent suddenly, put a finger through
the wire front and adopted a wheedling tone. "Come now, George, come on
little fellow, don't be frightened, it's only Uncle Granville.'
A small West Highland with a leg in a cast hobbled to the front and my
colleague tickled his nose through the wire.
"That's George Wills-Fentham,' he said in explanation. "Old Lady
Willsfentham's pride and joy. Nasty compound fracture but he's doing
very nicely. He's a bit shy is George but a nice little chap when you