Miss Stubbs, Im afraid Im a bit foggy about all this, I said. But Im absolutely certain of one thing. Wherever you are going, they are going too.
She still stared at me but her face was calm again. Thank you, Mr. Herriot, I know you are being honest with me. That is what you really believe, isnt it?
I do believe it, I said. With all my heart I believe it.
It must have been about a month later and it was entirely by accident that I learned I had seen Miss Stubbs for the last time. When a lonely, penniless old woman dies people dont rush up to you in the street to tell you. I was on my rounds and a farmer happened to mention that the cottage in Corby village was up for sale.
I had been through this before and was always afraid he might run in front of me so I put my foot down and began to hurtle downhill. This was where Jock came into his own. I often wondered how hed fare against a racing greyhound because by golly he could run. That sparse frame housed a perfect physical machine and the slender limbs reached and flew again and again, devouring the stony ground beneath, keeping up with the speeding car with joyful ease.
There is a sharp bend about halfway down and here Jock invariably sailed over the wall and streaked across the turf, a little dark blur against the green, and having craftily cut off the corner he reappeared again like a missile zooming over the gray stones lower down. This put him into a nice position for the run to the road and when he finally saw me onto the tarmac my last view of him was of a happy panting face looking after me. Clearly he considered it was a job well done and he would wander contentedly back up to the farm to await the next exciting session, perhaps with the postman or the bakers van.
And there was another side to Jock. He was an outstanding performer at the sheepdog trials and Mr. Corner had won many trophies with him. In fact the farmer could have sold the little animal for a lot of money but couldnt be persuaded to part with him. Instead he purchased a bitch, a scrawny little female counterpart of Jock and a trial winner in her own right. With this combination Mr. Corner thought he could breed some world-beating types for sale. On my visits to the farm the bitch joined in the car-chasing but it seemed as though she was doing it more or less to humor her new mate and she always gave up at the first bend, leaving Jock in command. You could see her heart wasnt in it.
Then the pups arrived, seven fluffy black-and-white balls tumbling about the yard and getting under everybodys feet. Jock watched indulgently as they tried to follow him in his pursuit of my vehicle and you could almost see him laughing as they fell over their feet and were left trailing far behind.
It happened that I didnt have to go there for about ten months but I saw Robert Corner in the market occasionally and he told me he was training the pups and they were shaping well. Not that they needed much training; it was in their blood and he said they had tried to round up the cattle and sheep nearly as soon as they could walk. When I finally saw them they were like seven Jocksmeager, darting little creatures flitting noiselessly about the buildings-and it didnt take me long to find out that they had learned more than sheep herding from their father. There was something very evocative about the way they began to prowl around in the background as I prepared to get into my car, peeping furtively from behind straw bales, slinking with elaborate nonchalance into favorable positions for a quick getaway. And as I settled in my seat I could sense they were all crouched in readiness for the off.
Hes over there.
And so he was, creeping around as of old, pretending he wasnt watching me. And when the happy time finally arrived and I drove away it was like it used to be with the lean little animal haring along by the side of the car, but relaxed, enjoying the game, winging effortlessly over the wall and beating the car down to the tarmac with no trouble at all.
I think I was as relieved as he was that he was left alone with his supremacy unchallenged; that he was still top dog.
Tricki Woo: A Triumph of Surgery
I was really worried about Tricki this time. I had pulled up my car when I saw him in the street with his mistress and I was shocked at his appearance. He had become hugely fat, like a bloated sausage with a leg at each corner. His eyes, bloodshot and rheumy, stared straight ahead, and his tongue lolled from his jaws.
Mrs. Pumphrey hastened to explain. He was so listless, Mr. Herriot. He seemed to have no energy. I thought he must be suffering from malnutrition, so I have been giving him some little extras between meals to build him up. Some calfs foot jelly and malt and cod liver oil and a bowl of Horlicks at night to make him sleepnothing much really.
And did you cut down on the sweet things as I told you?
Oh, I did for a bit, but he seemed to be so weak. I had to relent. He does love cream cakes and chocolates so. I cant bear to refuse him.