Vet in Harness

  Helen was very nice about it.

  "Jim,' she said one day when I was proudly showing her a model of a

  fully rigged sailing ship in a bottle which I had been lucky enough to

  pick up, 'it's lovely, but I don't think we need it right now.'

  I must have been a big disappointment to the poor girl and also to the

  local auctioneers who ran the sales. These gentlemen, when they saw me

  hovering around the back of the crowd would cheer up visibly. They, in

  common with most country folk, thought all vets were rich and that I

  would be bidding for some of the more expensive items. When a nice baby

  grand piano came up they would look over the heads at me with an

  expectant smile and their disappointment was evident when I finally went

  away with a cracked-faced barometer or a glove stretcher.

  A sense of my failure began.to seep through to me and when I had to take

  a sample through to the Leeds laboratory I saw a chance to atone.

  "Helen,' I said, 'there's a huge saleroom right in the city centre.

  I'll take an hour off and go in there. I'm bound to see something we

  need.'

  "Oh good!' my wife replied. "That's a great idea! There'll be lots to

  choose from there. You haven't had much chance to find anything at those

  country sales.' Helen was always kind.

  After my visit to the Leeds lab I asked the way,to the salerooms.

  "Leave your car here,' one of the locals advised me. "You'll never park

  in the main street and you can get a tram right to the door.'

  I was glad I listened to him because when I arrived the traffic was

  surging both ways in a nonstop stream. The saleroom was at the top of an

  extraordinarily long fli~ht of smooth stone steps leading right to the

  top of the building. When I err slightly out of breath, I thought

  immediately I had come to the right r'

  enclosure strewn with furniture, cookers, gramophones, carpets could

  possibly want in a house. O> ~und fascinated for quite a long time then

  my attention centred ~S ~ books quite near to where the auctioneer was

  selling. I lifted ,v ~ ~ ~e Geography of the World. I had never seen

  such beautiful 0,~,
  and gold lettering. ~- ~O~A ~, '0~ ~ "Ndn with gold and the paper was of

  a delightfully smooth A . >
  at the handsome ~n a drum a~ ~, ~o,;;, ~ ~res each with its covering

  transparent sheet. They Soon I began to-~ ~ ~ ~ubt, and when I looked at

  the front I saw they the ship foundered I l~ ~ =", ~re things of beauty.

  my feet on the floor and s~ ~ - ~a hand here because I had just

  reluctantly I hardly noticed as, after an ~ ~r's voice.

  r ~` `1` ``ull`~, "r~

  "Now then, here's a lovely set of books. The Ceography of the World in

  Twenty Four Volumes. Just look at them. You don't find books like them

  today. Who'll give me a bid?'

  I agreed with him. They were unique. But they must be worth pounds. I

  looked round the company but nobody said a word.

  "Come on, ladies and gentlemen, surely somebody wants this wonderful

  addition to their library. Now what do I hear?'

  Again the silence then a seedy looking man in a soiled mackintosh spoke

  up.

  tarf a crown,' he said morosely.

  I looked around expecting a burst of laughter at this sally, but nobody

  was amused. In fact the auctioneer didn't seem surprised.

  "I have a half a crown bid.' He glanced about him and raised his hammer.

  With a thudding of the heart I realised he was going to sell.

  I heard my own voice, slightly breathless. "Three shillings.'

  "I have a bid of three shillings for The Geography of the World in

  Twenty Four Volumes. Are you all done?' Bang went the hammer. "Sold to

  the gentleman over there.'

  They were mine! I couldn't believe my luck. l~his surely was the bargain

  to end all bargains. I paid my three shillings while one of the men tied

  a length of rough string round each pile. The first pause in my elation

  came when I tried to lift my purchases. Books are heavy things and these

  were massive specimens; and there were twenty-four of them.

  With a hand under each string I heaved like a weight-lifter and,

  pop-eyed, veins standing out on my forehead, I managed to get them off

  the ground and began to stagger shakily to the exit.

  The first string broke on the top step and twelve of my volumes cascaded

  downwards over the smooth stone. After the first moment of panic I

  decided that the best way was to transport the intact set down to the

  bottom and come back for the others. I did this but it took me some time

  and I began to perspire before I was all tied up again and poised on the

  kerb ready to cross the road.

  The second string broke right in the middle of the tramlines as I

  attempted a stiff-legged dash through a break in the traffic. For about

  a year I scrabbled there in the middle of the road while horns hooted,

  tram bells clanged and an interested crowd watched from the sidewalks. I

  had just got the escaped volumes in a column and was reknotting the

  string when the other lot burst from their binding and slithered gently

  along the metal rails; and it was when I was retrieving them that I

  noticed a large policeman, attracted by the din and the long line of

  vehicles, walking with measured strides in my direction.

  In my mental turmoil I saw myself for the first time in the hands of the

  law. I could be done on several charges - Breach of the Peace,

  Obstructing Traffic to name only two - but I perceived that the officer

  was approaching very slowly and rightly or wrongly I feel that when a

  policeman strolls towards you like that he is a decent chap and is

  giving you a chance to get away. I took my chance. He was still several

  yards off when I had my two piles reassembled and I thrust my hands

  under the strings, tottered to the far kerb and lost myself in the

  crowd.

  When I finally decided there was no longer any fear of feeling the dread

  grip on my shoulder I stopped in my headlong flight and rested in a shop

  doorway. I was puffing like a broken-winded horse and my hands hurt

  abominably. The saleroom string was coarse, hairy and abrasive and

  already it threatened to take the skin off my fingers.

  Anyway, I thought, the worst was over. The tram stop was just at the end

  of the block there. I joined the queue and when the tram arrived,

  shuffled forward with the others. I had one foot on the step when a

  large hand was thrust before my eyes.

  ~two V ~` ITI l l U7 76~3

  "Just a minute, broth'er, just a minute! Where d'you think you're

  going'?' The face under the conductor's hat was the meaty, heavy jowled,

  pop-eyed kind which seems to take a mournful pleasure in imparting bad

  news.

  "You're not bringin' that bloody lot on 'ere, brother. I'll tell the

  now!'

  I looked up at him in dismay. "But .. . it's just a few books .. .'

  "Few books! You want a bloody delivery van for that lot. You're not

  usin' my tram - passengers couldn't stir inside!' His mouth turned down

  aggressively.

  "Oh but really,' I said
with a ghastly attempt at an ingratiating smile,

  "I'm just going as far as .. .'

  "You're not going' anywhere in 'ere, brother! Ah've no time to argue

  move your foot, ah'm off!'

  The bell ding-dinged and the tram began to move. As I hopped off

  backwards one of the strings broke again.

  After I had got myself sorted out I surveyed my situation and it

  appeared fairly desperate. My car must be over a mile away, mostly

  uphill, and I would defy the most stalwart Nepalese Sherpa to transport

  these books that far. I could of course just abandon the things; lean

  them against this wall and take to my heels .. . But no, that would be

  anti-social and anyway they were beautiful. If 'v I could get them home

  all would be well.

  - tram rumbled up to the stop and again I hefted my burden and

  nassengers, hoping nobody would notice.

  ' '- time.

  -~" was middle-aged, motherly and her plump n~

  was c stret~=~1> 6

  A sense~ ,;_. f!6 2 c ~ ;5 .} ~S :

  -qinst "'rules.'

  -~n books. I've just "Helen,' I ~ :~;~ "Oh good!' my -~? 0-0-7 ~ C &~ '2

  ~ O ^= ~ ~ ~ . ~ from there. You h`~ -c O 3 ~ ~ c ,; ~go ~ 6 c ~ ~ ~ ,~

  ~, c sales.' Helen was alw ~, ._ ~ ,) C ~g -C ;? lp S ~ `7 C After my

  visit to the~ ~ ~ :~` ~ O `] ,;_, ~ t1 ~ ~ 6 ~ w-C7 "Leave your car

  here,'5 ~ 6.5 ~ 4 2 ,; ~z~6 64 3 ~ ~ ~{ , main street and you can ge .c

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  OQ ~ c long flio~t of smooth stone steps~,8 6~ 2 ~~O ~?~ ~c~ ~ ,~, I

  err"'lightly out of breath, I ;.8 ~ ,> S c~ ~C7 ' ~6 ~c r'~enclosure

  strewn with~ ~c ~ ~ ~-c 6 c .,2 c ~could possibly want ifi~ 6 ~
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  to wh~ O O t ~S ~c O ,d,N~ ~e Geography of the ~C ,? c ~0N ~ ~ C~ ~ ~,

  C*~, ~aedias and with thick e ~ ~c ~ =,~o, =o ~ ~ with gold and the pa]

  =~ ~ cr~ Anti. St
  ~res each with its cove. ~o ~c Soon I began tot ~^ ~ ~ubt, and when I

  looh 8,_,c the ship foundered 1 I~ ~ ~,.~" ~Fe things of beauty. ~c my

  feet on the floor and sh~ ~k, ~a hand here becaust I hardly noticed as,

  after an ~ ~r's voice.

  extra before away I began to acrid reek fumes and as climbing le. ,sy

  air flowed ly. I stopped, was no doubt Ah well, they must have been kept

  in a damp place or something like that. I was sure it would soon pass

  off. But in the meantime it certainly was powerful; it nearly made my

  eyes water.

  I had never really noticed the long climb to our eyrie on top of

  Skeldale House but it was different today. I suppose my arms and

  shoulders were finally beginning to feel the strain and that string,

  bristly but fragile, was digging into my hands harder than ever, but it

  was true that every step was an effort and when I at last gained the top

  landing I almost collapsed against the door of our bed-sitter.

  When, perspiring and dishevelled, I entered, Helen was on her knees,

  dusting the hearth. She looked up at me expectantly.

  "Any luck, Jim?'

  "Yes, I think so,' I replied with a trace of smugness. "I think I got a

  bargain.'

  Helen rose and looked at me eagerly. "Really?'

  "Yes.' I decided to play my trump card. "I only had to spend three

  shillings!'

  "Three shillings! What .. . where .. .?'

  "Wait there a minute.' I went out to the landing and put my hand under

  those strings. This, thank heaven, would be the last time I would have

  to do this. A lunge and a heave and I had my prizes through the doorway

  and displayed for my wife's inspection.

  She stared at the two piles. "What have you got there?'

  "The Geography of the World in Twenty FOUT Volumes,' I replied

  triumphantly.

  "The Geography of the .. . and is that all?'

  "Yes, couldn't manage anything else, I'm afraid. But look - aren't they

  magnificent books!'

  My wife's level gaze had something of disbelief, a little of wonder. For

  a moment one corner of her mouth turned up then she coughed and became

  suddenly brisk.

  "Ah well, we'll have to see about getting some shelves for them. Anyway,

  leave them there for now.' She went over and kneeled again by the

  hearth. But after a minute or two she paused in her dusting.

  "Can you smell anything funny?'

  "Well, er .. . I think it's the books, Helen. They're just a bit musty

  .. . I don't think it'll last long.'

  But the peculiar exhalation was very pervasive and it was redolent of

  extreme age. Very soon the atmosphere in our room was that of a freshly

  opened mausoleum.

  I could see Helen didn't want to hurt my feelings but she kept darting

  looks of growing alarm at my purchases. I decided to say it for her.

  "Maybe I'd better take them downstairs just for now.'

  She nodded gratefully.

  The descent was torture, made worse by the fact that I had thought I was

  finished with such things. I finally staggered into the office and

  parked the books behind the desk. I was panting and rubbing my hands

  when Siegfried came in.

  "Ah, James, had a nice run through to Leeds?'

  "Yes, they said at the lab that they'd give us a ring about those sheep

  as soon as they've cultured the organisms.'

  "Splendid!' My colleague opened the door of the cupboard and put some

  forms inside then he paused and began to sniff the air.

  "James, there's a bloody awful stink in here.'

  I cleared my throat. "Well yes, Siegfried, I bought a few books while I

  was ~n Leeds. They seem a little damp.' I pointed behind the desk.

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  X V ~L Lll ~ d "1 11~3

  There was another night when Tristan and I were tidying up after a cat

  spay. The sound of heavy boots echoed on the passage tiles then the door

  burst open and a stocky man in a cloth cap and collarless shirt strode

  in "I'm not going' to be waitin' along there!' he said belligerently in

  the rich tones of Erin.

  "Is that so?' I replied.

  "Yiss, it is so. I haven't the time to be sittin' waitin'!'

  "I see. Well what can we do for you?'

  He grabbed a chair, pulled it up to the table, sat down, leaned his

  elbow on the freshly washed surface and looked up at me with a truculent

  eye.

  "It's me ear!' He cocked the offending organ in my d
irection.

  I realised he was~one of the many Irish labourers who came to the

  district every year to help with the turnip hoeing. I could understand

  his entering the wrong door but was surprised at his aggressiveness;

  most of his compatriots were noted for their charm.

  I was about to redirect him when Tristan, loth as always to pass up the

  slightest chance of a giggle, broke in.

  "Your ear, eh?' he murmured sympathetically. "Is it very painful?'

  "Oh aye, it hurts bad. I think I've got a little bile startin' in

  there.'

  Tristan tut-tutted. "Too bad, too bad, let's have a look at it.' He

  moved over to the instrument cupboard and produced the auroscope which

  we used for examining dogs with ear canker. Taking it from its case he

  switched on the light and bent over the man.

  "Just bend your head over a little, will you? Fine, fine.' He sounded

  very professional.

  He inserted the auroscope and peered into the depths of the ear. "Hmm ..

  . hmm .. . yes, yes, I see. Oh that's rather nasty.' At last he nodded

  gently. "You are quite right. You have a little infected spot in there.'

  "That's what I thought,' the man grunted. "What are you going to do,

  then?'

  Tristan rested his chin on his hand for a moment.

  "I really think I ought to give you an injection. It would be the

  quickest way of clearing the thing up.' He spoke seriously but

  confidently with the hint of a grave smile at the corner of his lips.

  Like me he was wearing a white coat and would have passed without a

  quibble as a Harley Street specialist.

  The man seemed similarly impressed. He squares! his shoulders and

  nodded. "Right then, let's be havin' it. You ought to know.'

  As I watched wonderingly Tristan laid our white enamel tray on the table

  and on it he deposited a roll of cotton wool, a bottle of iodine and a

  row of enormous needles. They were the big, wide-bored needles for

  running calcium under a cow's skin and Lying there they looked like

  items from a plumber's kit.

  Next he rummaged in a cupboard for some time then emerged bearing the

  only 100 c.c. syringe in the practice. This was very rarely used

  occasionally for giving sodium iodide injections to bullocks - and it

  was a fearsome object. Unlike its modern plastic counterparts it was

  made of glass and with its massive mounting of stainless steel and great

  metal plunger it looked much bigger.

  The Irishman had been shifting uneasily in his seat as Tristan set out

  his stall but as the syringe clattered down on the enamel his eyes

  widened and he swallowed a couple of times.

  My colleague, however, was wonderfully composed. He whistled softly as

  he fitted one of the huge needles to the nozzle of the syringe, then

  hummed a light tune while he hoisted a jar of acrivlavine solution on to

  the table. Carefully almost lovingly, he drew up the full 100 c.c.'s

  then stood with the syringe poised against the light, giving off

  iridescent gleams as he rocked it gently to and fro.

  The man had lost a lot of his bluster. His mouth hung slightly open.

  ve' In rlarness 41'

  "Just a minute,' he said a trifle breathlessly. "Phwhaat doctors are

  you?'

  "I beg your pardon,' enquired Tristan, still juggling with his dreadful

  instrument.

  "Phwhaat's your names? Phwhaat do you call you doctors?'

  Tristan gave a light laugh. "Oh we're not doctors. We're vets.'

  "Vits!' the chair grated on the floor as the man pushed back from the

  table.

  "Yes, that's right,' Tristan said innocently, advancing with the loaded

  syringe. "But you needn't worry. I assure you .. .'