Mrs. Donovan didnt confine her activities to the town center; there was a big stretch of common land down by the river where there were seats, and people used to take their dogs for a gallop and she liked to get down there fairly regularly to check on the latest developments on the domestic scene. I often saw Roy loping majestically over the grass among a pack of assorted canines, and when he wasnt doing
picture the locals peering through the window at Mrs. Pumphrey and Tricki eating at one of those tiny tables when she went on.
Im so glad you think so. And we have enjoyed it so much. Tricki adores the char sui and my favorite is the chow mein. The little Chinese man is teaching us how to use the chopsticks, too.
I put down my empty glass and dusted the tasty biscuit crumbs from my jacket. I hated to interrupt these sessions and return to reality, but I looked at my watch. Im so glad things turned out so nicely, Mrs. Pumphrey, but I think Id better give the little chap his checkup.
I lifted Tricki onto a chair and palpated his abdomen thoroughly. Nothing wrong there. Then I fished out my stethoscope and listened to his heart and lungs. There was the heart murmur I knew about and some faint bronchitic sounds which I expected. In fact I was totally familiar with all my old friends internal workings after treating him over the years. Teeth nowmaybe could do with another scale next time. Eyes with the beginnings of the lens opacity of the old dog, but not too bad at all.
I turned to Mrs. Pumphrey. Tricki had tablets for his arthritis and the bronchitis but I never elaborated on his ailments to hertoo many medical terms upset her. Hes really wonderful for his age, Mrs. Pumphrey. You have his tablets to use when necessary and you know where I am if ever you need me. Just one thing. You have been very good with his diet lately so dont give him too many tidbitsnot even extra char sui!
She giggled and gave me a roguish look. Oh, please dont scold me, Mr. Herriot. I promise Ill be good. She paused for a moment. I must mention one more thing with regard to Trickis arthritis. You know that Hodgkin has been throwing rings for him for years?
Yes, I do. Her words raised an image of the dour old gardener under duress casting the rubber rings on the lawn while the little dog, barking in delight, brought them back to him again. Hodgkin, who clearly didnt like dogs, invariably looked utterly fed up and his lips always seemed to be moving as he uttered either to himself or Tricki.
Well, I thought in view of Trickis condition that Hodgkin was throwing the rings too far and I told him to throw them for just a few feet. The little darling would have just as much fun with much less exertion.
I see.
Unfortunatelyhere her expression became disapprovingHodgkin has been rather mean about it.
In what way?
I wouldnt have known anything about it, she said, lowering her voice, but Tricki confided in me.
Did he really?
Yes, he told me that Hodgkin had complained bitterly that it meant he had to bend down a lot more often to pick up the rings and that he had arthritis too. I wouldnt have minded, her voice sank to a whisper, but Tricki was deeply shocked; he said Hodgkin used the word bloody several times.
Oh dear, dear, yes, I see the difficulty.
It has made the whole thing so embarrassing for Tricki. What do you think I should do?
I nodded sagely and after some cogitation gave my opinion. I do think, Mrs. Pumphrey, that it would be a good idea to have the throwing sessions less often and for a shorter time. After all, both Tricki and Hodgkin are no longer young.
She gazed at me for a few moments, then smiled fondly. Oh, thank you, Mr. Herriot, Im sure you are right, as always. I shall follow your advice.
I looked back as I drove away down the drive. Mrs. Pumphrey and Ruth were smiling and waving from the doorway. Tricki was back at his window, laughing his head off as he barked farewell, the curtains moving with the wagging of his tail. My stomach glowed with sherry and savory biscuits.
Not for the first time I thanked providence for the infinite variety of veterinary practice.
Hermann: A Happy Ending
Was there no peace in a vets life? I wondered fretfully as I hurried my car along the road to Gilthorpe village. Eight oclock on a Sunday evening and here I was trailing off to visit a dog ten miles away which, according to Helen who had taken the message, had been ailing for more than a week.
After a long and busy day, I had hoped for a quiet evening, yet here I was back on the treadmill, staring through the windscreen at the roads and the walls which I saw day in, day out. When I left Darrowby the streets of the little town were empty in the gathering dusk and the houses had that tight-shut, comfortable look which raised images of armchairs and pipes and firesides, and now as I saw the lights of the farms winking on the fellsides I could picture the stocksmen dozing contentedly with their feet up.
I had not passed a single car on the darkening road.