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
you understand .. . it's just the idea of it.'
And I couldn't persuade him. He remained adamant and marched resolutely
from the surgery with his pet. I watched him crossing the road to his
house and I knew he had let himself in for a load of worry, but I didn't
realise just how bad it was going to be.
It was to be a kind of martyrdom.
Chapter Four.
I do not think martyrdom is too strong a word for what Mr Partridge went
through over the next few weeks, because with the passage of time that
testicle became more and more massive and due to the way Percy carried
his tail the thing was lamentably conspicuous.
People used to turn and stare as man and dog made their way down the
street, Percy trotting bravely, his master, eyes rigidly to the front,
putting up a magnificent pretence of being quite unaware of anything
unusual. It really hurt me to see them and I found the sight of the
smart little dog's disfigurement particularly hard to bear.
Mr Partridge's superior facade had always made him a natural target for
a certain amount of legpulling which he bore stoically; but the fact
that it now involved his pet pierced him to the soul.
One afternoon he brought him over to the surgery and I could see that
the little man was almost in tears. Gloomily I examined the offending
organ which was now about six inches long; gross, pendulous, undeniably
ludicrous.
"You know, Mr Herriot,' the artist gasped. "Some boys chalked on my
window, "Roll up and see the famous Chinese dog, Wun Hung Lo." I've just
been wiping it off.'
I rubbed my chin. "Well that's an ancient joke, Mr Partridge. I
shouldn't worry about that.'
"But I do worry! I can't sleep because of the thing!'
"For heaven's sake, then, why don't you let me operate? I could put the
whole business right for you.'
very picture of misery as he stared at me. "I'm frightened, that's what
it is. I'm frightened he'll die under the anaesthetic.'
"Oh come now! He's a strong little animal. There's no reason at all for
such fears.'
"But there is a risk isn't there?'
I looked at him helplessly. "Well there's a slight risk in all
operations if you come right down to it, but honestly in this case .
..'
"No! That's enough. I won't hear of it,' he burst out and seizing
Percy's lead he strode away.
Things went from bad to worse after that. The tumour grew steadily,
easily visible now from my vantage point in the surgery window as the
dog went by on the other side of the street, and I could see too that
the stares and occasional ridicule were beginning to tell on Mr
Partridge. His cheeks had hollowed and he had lost some of his high
colour.
But I didn't have words with him till one market day several weeks
later. It was early afternoon - the time the farmers often came in to
pay their bills. I was showing one of them out when I saw Percy and his
master coming out of the house. And I noticed immediately that the
little animal now had to swing one hind leg slightly to clear the
massive obstruction.
On an impulse I called out and beckoned to Mr Partridge.
"Look,' I said as he came across to me. "You've just got to let me take
that thing off. It's interfering with his walking - making him lame. He
can't go on like this.'
The artist didn't say anything but stared back at me with hunted eyes.
We were standing there in silence when Bill Dalton came round the corner
and marched up to the surgery steps, cheque book in hand. Bill was a
large beefy farmer who spent most of market day in the bar of the Black
Swan and he was preceded by an almost palpable wave of beer fumes.
"Nah then, Rolie lad, how ista?' he roared, slapping the little man
violently on the back.
"I am quite well, William, thank you, and how are you?'
But Bill didn't answer. His attention was all on Percy who had strolled
a few paces along the pavement. He watched him intently for a few
moments, then, repressing a giggle, he turned to Mr Partridge with a
mock-serious expression.
"The knows, Rolie,' he said, 'that blood 'ound of your reminds me of the
young man of Devizes, whose balls were of different sizes. The one was
so small it was no ball at all, but the other one won several prizes.'
He finished with a shout of laughter which went on and on till he
collapsed weakly against the iron railings.
For a moment I thought Mr Partridge was going to strike him. He glared
up at the big man and his chin and mouth trembled with rage, then he
seemed to gain control of himself and turned to me.
"Can I have a word with you, Mr Herriot?'
"Certainly.' I walked a few yards with him down the street.
"You're right,' he said. "Percy will have to have that operation. When
can you %ood and bring him in at little dog stretched on the quickly
removed the huge e complete excision of all ~s that the scrotum itself
t. This is the sort of thing way the affected parts of ~n. I put in the
last stitch ~ng his pet alive after my want to spoil everything f the
tumour did recur I pleasure at my patient's ton whenever I saw him
remeet which had bulked; roll casually behind him nothing to Mr
Partridge Percy's tail. ::'~ he pathology department ~ me that it was a
Sertoli." ~ation that this type wa5]
usually benign and that metastasis into the internal organs occurred in
only a very small proportion of cases. Maybe this lulled me into a
deeper security than was warranted because I stopped following Percy
around and in fact, in the nonstop rush of new cases, forgot all about
his spell of trouble.
So that when Mr Partridge brought him round to the surgery I thought it
was for something else and when his master lifted him on to the table
and turned him round to show his rear end I stared uncomprehendingly for
a moment. But I leaned forward anxiously when I spotted the ugly
swelling on the left side of the scrotum. I palpated quickly, with
Percy's growls and grousings providing an irritable obligato, and there
was no doubt about it, the tumour was growing again. It meant business,
too, because it was red, angry-looking, painful; a dangerously active
growth if ever I had seen one.
"It's come up quite quickly, has it?' I asked.
every day.'
We were in trouble. There was no hope of trying to cut this lot away; it
was a great diffuse mass without clear boundaries and I wouldn't have
known where to start. Anyway, if I began any more poking about it would
be just what was needed to start a spread into the internal organs, and
that would be the end of Percy.
"It's worse this time, isn't it?' The little man looked at me and
gulped.
"Yes .. . yes .. . I'm afraid so.'
"Is there anything at all you can do about it?' he asked.
I was trying to think of a painless way of telling him that there wasn't
when
I remembered something I had read in the Veterinary Record a week
ago. It was about a new drug, Stilboestrol, which had just come out and
was supposed to be useful for hormonal therapy in animals; but the bit I
was thinking about was a small print extract which said it had been
useful in cancer of the prostate in men. I wondered .. .
"There's one thing I'd like to try,' I said, suddenly brisk, "I can't
guarantee anything, of course, because it's something new. But we'll see
what a week or two's course does.'
"Oh good, good,' Mr Partridge breathed, snatching gratefully at the
straw.
I rang May and Baker's and they sent the Stilboestrol to me immediately.
I injected Percy with 10 mg of the oily suspension and put him on to 10
mg tablets daily. They were big doses for a little dog but in a
desperate situation I felt they were justified. Then I sat back and
waited.
For about a week the tumour continued to grow and I nearly stopped the
treatment' then there was a spell lasting several days during which I
couldn't be sure; but then with a surge of relief I realised there could
be no further doubt - the thing wasn't getting any bigger. I wasn't
going to throw my hat in the air and I knew anything could still happen
but I had done something with my treatment; I had halted that fateful
progress.
The artist's step acquired a fresh spring as he passed on his daily walk
and then as the ugly mass actually began to diminish he would wave
towards the Surgery window and point happily at the little white animal
trotting by his side.
Poor Mr Partridge. He was on the crest of the wave but just ahead of him
was the second and more bizarre phase of his martyrdom.
At first neither I nor anybody else realised what was going on. All we
knew was there suddenly seemed to be a lot of dogs in Trengate - dogs we
didn't usually see, from other parts of the town; big ones, small ones,
shaggy mongrels and sleek aristocrats all hanging round apparently
aimlessly, but then it was noticed that there was a focal point of
attraction. It was Mr Partridge's house.
And it hit me blindingly one morning as I looked out of our bedroom
window. They were after Percy. For some reason he had taken on the
attributes of a bitch in heat. I hurried downstairs and got out my
pathology book. Yes, there it was. The Sertoli Cell tumour occasionally
made dogs attractive to other male dogs. But why should it be happening
now when the thing was reducing and not when it was at its height? Or
could it be the Stilboestrol? The new drug was said to have a feminising
effect, but surely not to that extent.
Anyway, whatever the cause, the undeniable fact remained that Percy was
under siege, and as the word got around the pack increased, being
augmented by several of the nearby farm dogs, a Great Dane who had made
the journey from Houlton, and Magnus, the little dachschund from the
Drovers' Arms. The queue started forming almost at first light and by
ten o'clock there would be a milling throng almost blocking the street.
Apart from the regulars the odd canine visitor passing through would
join the company, and no matter what his breed or size he was readily
accepted into the club, adding one more to the assortment of stupid
expressions, lolling tongues and waving tails; because, motley crew
though they were, they were all happily united in the roisterous, bawdy
camaraderie of lust.
The strain on Mr Partridge must have been almost intolerable. At times I
noticed the thick spectacles glinting balefully at the mob through his
window but most of the time he kept himself in hand, working calmly at
his easel as though he were oblivious that every one of the creatures
outside had evil designs on his treasure.