Hope and Faith

“James!” I heard Siegfried bellow from the surgery. As I came out of the kitchen, he cannoned out of the surgery and straight into Tristan, who had been standing in the passage.

“Perfected the art of sleeping standing up, have we?” he barked.

“Just spending a moment in reflection.” Tristan assumed what he considered a contemplative countenance. Siegfried hesitated, then chose to ignore him.

“James, I know you've got a heavy list this morning, but I'm wondering if you could stop out at the Barker place and have a look at their dog. It's not so very far out of your way, and with the petrol situation, we should look to combine as many visits as possible.”

Sometimes I wondered if the shortages and rationing from the war would ever end. The fighting was long over, but everything still seemed to be in short supply.

“Symptoms?” I asked, hoping for a quick, in and out job.

“Not eating, general malaise, nothing really specific. Lost a lot of weight. It's some sort of retriever and spaniel mix; she's been wormed and is up-to-date on vaccinations, so we can rule a few things out.”

It sounded like the sort of case I dreaded; an animal that was not eating, and losing weight rapidly, had to be diagnosed and treated as soon as possible, but it didn't sound like I had much to go on. I noticed that Tristan had perked up and taken an interest when the Barker name came up, and was following us down the passageway. That sort of attention usually meant there was a pretty female involved.

“I'll just get a few notes...” Siegfried turned and ran smack into his brother again.

“Haven't you anything else to do but follow me around?”

Tristan smiled. “Just basking in the reflected glow of your brilliance, dear brother.”

“You can go and bask out of doors while you're pruning those overgrown rose bushes.” He stalked off down the hall.

I patted Tristan on the shoulder. “Be sure to protect those delicate surgeon's hands from thorns.” I knew full well that there was no way on earth that Tristan was going to spend hours in the garden. Of course, Tristan was counting on the fact that my boss would soon forget about the roses, if he hadn't already.

“You know, Tris, if you didn't antagonize him at every opportunity, he wouldn't spend as much time looking around for dirty jobs for you to do.”

“What, and lose my raison d'etre? Never!” He poured himself the last of the coffee.

“I noticed you seemed interested in the Barkers, Tris.”

Tristan brightened up immediately. “Yes, I went to school with Ivy Barker. Well, it was Ivy Turner then. The family moved to Cricklewood, and she married Jack Barker there. He was a flier as well; I heard he lost a leg in a crash during flight training. Poor devil. I'd be obliged if you'd give her my regards, James.”

“Sure, Tris.” I took one last swallow of coffee. “You might want to stay out of Siegfried's way for a bit. At least until morning surgery's over. I have it on good authority that Clancy's on his way in.” Siegfried had once described Clancy as a “sort of cross between an Airedale and a donkey.”

“He's womitin', I take it?”

“Aye,womitin' bad, sorr,” I yelled in his ear, in imitation of his owner.

“Say no more, James, I'll be on my way as well. I promised to treat a mastitis case this morning.” He left with a merry whistle. I knew it wasn't the joy of labor, but it's proximity to the 'Wheat And Sheaf' that had raised his spirits.

The Barkers lived in a ramshackle farmhouse, far removed from any other homestead in the area. The place had a forlorn, desolate appearance, and it was obvious that it's upkeep had suffered from years of neglect. My knock was answered by Ivy, a pretty, petite little thing, with anxious eyes and a careworn expression.

“I'm James Herriot, the vet. My partner tells me you have a dog that needs seeing to?”

She invited me in. The kitchen was tiny, but clean and tidy. She offered me a cup of tea, but it was already late, and I had to decline.

“It's actually my husband's dog, Shadow. He's had her since she was a pup, and we named her Shadow because she never let him out of her sight. Always underfoot, she was, and cried something fierce if she was left behind. It broke her heart when he was called up; I used to put his shirt in her basket when she went to sleep, which seemed to soothe her. You wouldn't believe how ecstatic she was when he came home! Well, we both were,” she added shyly. “But she just seems to have lost every bit of life in her. Refuses to eat, or play, or even go outside. She was such an energetic dog; she and Jack used to spend hours walking, and playing ball. But that was before...” Her eyes reddened, and she swallowed. “That was before.”

“I'd like to have a look at her. By the way, my other partner, Tristan, sends his regards.”

“Dear Tristan! I suppose he told you we were in school together. He used to always wait until the last minute to study for exams, and then wheedle my notes from me.”

“He hasn't changed much,” I replied.

I followed her into the next room, which was surprisingly gloomy. I made out the form of a man in a chair, with a basket next to it. In the basket was a large, black dog of mixed breed. She regarded me with an air of disinterest, looked up at her master, then laid her head down with a sigh.

“Mr. Barker, I'm James Herriot. I'd like to have a look at Shadow.” He nodded, but didn't respond. I saw the crutches leaning against the fireplace, and remembered that Tristan had mentioned he'd lost a leg. I tried not to look at the man too closely.

I knelt down and ran my hands over the dog's frame. She was at least ten to fifteen pounds underweight, and I noticed the dullness of her eyes and fur. I checked her over carefully. She was unresisting, turning her liquid brown eyes on me occasionally, as if to say Do as you please, it doesn't matter to me one way or another.

I couldn't find any obvious signs of illness or injury. I'd need to check blood and urine samples for possible thyroid problems, diabetes, or latent infections, but so far I was coming up empty-handed.

“Any problems chewing, swallowing, and vomiting?” I asked, hoping there was something we'd overlooked.

“Not so you'd notice. She just won't take more than a mouthful or so, and then only when Jack eats.”

I looked at Mr. Barker. “Perhaps you could try hand feeding her a bit? Some soft foods, maybe a little bread dipped in broth, that sort of thing.”

He still didn't respond, and I began to wonder if he had taken some sort of dislike to me. He looked at his wife.

“You heard him, go fetch what's needed. You know I bloody well can't.” I would have expected a flash of temper from her at his tone, but Ivy simply turned, and went back to the kitchen.

“Bloody useless.” Mr, Barker sank further back into his chair, without looking at me. Shadow had stirred when the man sat forward in his chair, but then she sank back into her basket. I was starting to feel a cloud of despair settling over me as well; obviously, the last thing Jack Barker needed was the loss of his dog, and I still had no idea what was wrong. I suddenly felt like I needed some air.

“Right, I'll just take some samples, and get them off to the lab tomorrow.” The dog gave me a feeble lick as I drew the blood, and I stroked one soft ear.

“Good girl,” I whispered, giving her a final pat.

Ivy was in the kitchen, and she gave me a warm smile as I was leaving. “You won't hold it against him, will you?” she asked. “He was once a kind, generous man. He's just a shadow of himself.” She paused, as though her own words had just struck her. “I do hope you can save her. I know you'll do your best. It's just that she's such a lovely dog, and so devoted to my Jack. She's a reminder of happier times.”

It took several days to get the lab results back. There was nothing to indicate anything wrong with Shadow, besides a little anemia, probably due to her lack of food. I found the whole situation mildly depressing, and it weighed on my mind.

“A bit down in the mouth, James?” asked Siegfried, catching me staring morosely into the fire. “It won't do, you know. That sort of thing eats away at you, saps your intellect as well as your spirit.” He stood in front of me, hands in pockets, brow furrowed. “I notice you didn't partake of Mrs. Hall's fine cooking this evening. Any particular reason?”

I hated to confess that a patient was interfering with my appetite. “I know, I know. Don't get emotionally involved. How many times have you told me? Still, I can't get it out of my mind. It's bad enough to see a patient suffering, but it's far worse when the whole family suffers. As you know.”

“I know I've been suffering all day,” offered Tristan, entering the room in a subtle cloud of barnyard. “You know, one would think that a cow named Bonny would have a disposition to go with it. Not so. In fact, I've never dealt with a cow quite so mean spirited. Even with a leg tied up, she managed to swing her craggy old hip around and catch me one.” He poured himself a small scotch from the decanter. “I must say, I was hoping for a rather more cheerful evening. Any takers?”

“Sorry, Tris. Not in the mood,” I countered. “By the way, I did give Ivy your regards. She and her husband seem to be a bit of a mismatch, I must say.”

“Hmmm, yes, I've heard something about that. He hasn't made the adjustment to normal life very well. Of course, life will never be normal for him again, I suppose. Word is, he's obsessed with the fact that he was injured in an accident, rather than in the action. He just sits in the house, brooding.”

“How do you know all this, Tris?” I asked.

“I hear things,” he said airily.

“Idly gossiping in the pubs, you mean. I wish you'd elevate your interests. Now, James,” continued Siegfried, turning to me, “it occurs to me that we have a man who has decided to drown in his own pool of remorse, and is taking his family with him.” He sighed. “Animals are acutely sensitive to human behavior and emotion; and they have a wonderful capacity for devotion. I suspect that there's nothing organically wrong with that dog.”

I'd come to the same conclusion, although I didn't want to accept it. We could treat any number of injuries and disease, but we had nothing in our bags for treating emotional neglect. “I wonder what it is that keeps some people going, in spite of everything,” I thought aloud.

“Hope. Faith.” Siegfried paused and looked at Tristan thoughtfully. “Sometimes a bit of goading from an interested party.”

“Is that what you call it?” said Tristan.

“In your case, I call it lending a guiding hand,” replied his brother.

“On the neck,” murmured Tristan on his way out.

“James, would you mind if I accompanied you tomorrow, sort of as a second opinion?”

I was secretly relieved that he'd offered. “I'd really appreciate it, Siegfried, thanks. Maybe you can spot something I haven't.”

“My pleasure, James. And please try and get some sleep tonight.”

Siegfried's boisterousness was in marked contrast to the general atmosphere of the Barker home. Ivy was somewhat taken aback, but obviously pleased. Of course, I was used to being overshadowed by my boss where women were concerned.

“How very nice to meet you! My brother tells me you went to school together, and that you broke many a boy's heart. I can certainly see why! Now, since James and I were out on rounds together, I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind if I had a look as well.” He was already opening his bag and digging through it.

“Of course not. Mr. Herriot knows the way through. I just hope that you can do something for the poor thing.”

Siegfried took her gently by the arms. “Mrs. Barker...”

“Ivy,” she said automatically.

“Ivy, then,” he said with a smile, “could I possibly impose on you to make us some tea?”

“Of course,” she replied.

“And will you trust us to do the right thing?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“I have complete faith in you and Mr. Herriot.”

“Excellent!” he said, grabbing his bag. “I'd like you to stay out here then. Alright, James, let's have a look, shall we?”

Siegfried marched into the next room. He spotted the dog right away, and bent down. “Can't see a thing,” he announced, getting up and yanking open the blinds. He completely ignored Mr. Barker and began to examine the dog, checking her over carefully, prising open her mouth, feeling her abdomen, and listening to her heart and lungs. He carefully folded his stethoscope and stuck it in his pocket.

“Get about much, do you, Mr. Barker?”

“You have eyes in your head, don't you? I've only got one leg.”

“So I see. But I see you've a pair of crutches. Surely you don't just sit here all day. A little fresh air would do you and this dog a world of good. In fact, all this good animal really needs is the basics of life; food, exercise, and love. She's wasting away, because she won't leave your side, and you refuse to get up and get on with your life. I call that a colossal waste.”

“I call it none of your business!”

“Very well. Our job is to relieve suffering in animals. She's obviously a one man dog, so it would be impossible to find another home for her, and we can't very well just leave her to die a slow death. So, we'll just put her down.” He rubbed his hands briskly. “Right, James, let's get this little job over.” He began pulling various syringes and bottles out of his bag, humming to himself. I felt a queasy sense of unease, until Siegfried threw me a long glance. He was trying to telegraph something to me.

He quickly knelt down and scooped up the dog, then dumped her unceremoniously in the man's lap.

“Sorry, I'll need you to hold her while it's done.” He got out a pair of clippers and turned them on and off several times, whistling all the while.

In the meantime, Mr. Barker had lifted a trembling hand was stroking the dog's head. She laid it against his chest with a sigh, and curled up more tightly against him.

Siegfried was approaching him with the largest syringe he'd been able to find, holding it in the air and happily squirting a jet of fluid in the air. “Now then, just keep tight hold of her, and we'll be done in a jiffy.”

“I didn't say you could do this.” He was holding the dog more protectively now.

“Well, you're obviously not able to care for her yourself. So if you'll just...”

“By God, I'll punch you in the bloody nose if you come one step closer.”

Siegfried emptied the syringe out on the floor. “Just water, Mr. Barker. I'd no intention of destroying this good dog. But I did want to see if you had any fight left in you at all. I'm glad to see that you have.”

I released the breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding.

“There's no shame in grieving for what's lost, Mr. Barker. But when you let that grief destroy everything that you have, as well, then that's what I call a damned shame. You have a lovely wife who's utterly devoted to you, who cares only that you're alive and finally here at home with her again. You have a dog, a companion, who lives only for the touch of your hand and the sound of your voice. They ask for very little from you; don't deny them that.” He quickly began to pack up. “Well, we'll leave you to it, then.”

Mr. Barker sat in silence as we went into the kitchen. Ivy had fixed us tea, and we polished it off thirstily as Ivy told us a few stories about Tristan's school exploits, including a firecracker in the teacher's desk, and putting a frog down another little girl's dress.

“I wonder if his tactics have changed much?” Siegfried mused. “That would explain his lack of success in securing something longterm.”

“A degree, or a wife?” giggled Ivy.

“You had me going, Siegfried. For a moment, I thought you were really going through with it.”

He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I'm in the wrong business, James. Maybe I should have pursued an acting career.” He winked.

A few days later, we were driving back from Brawton. It was dusk, and and as we drove near the Barker's, I saw two outlines on a hill.

“Siegfried, slow down a minute,” I said hurriedly.

I remembered just in time, and braced myself on the dash as we came to a screaming halt.

“Look over there. Do you see what I see?”

It was Jack Barker, painstakingly making his way along, his Shadow beside him. They paused every few steps, each looking at the other before going on. Soon, they disappeared over the hill into the dusk.

We go on, sometimes if only for one another.