How Much For The Vet?

It seemed like a rather ordinary call, as so many potential catastrophes begin. Someone had phoned to complain about an elderly couple with far too many pets, some of them apparently in poor condition. Not knowing what lay in store, I began to fill my bag with everything I could think of to address a multitude of problems.

“Running away from home?” asked Tristan laconically, turning the pages of a magazine.

“Possibly,” I replied, filling my pockets with an assortment of vials.

“I used to keep a bag packed, by the bedroom door, for those occasions when my presence was no longer required,” said Tristan, looking up with an amused grin.

“I'm surprised you used it as few times as you did. Help me with this, will you Tris,” I said, trying to close my bag.

“Why don't you put some of that in my bag and I'll go along. Siegfried's looking at the accounts, and you know he's always like a bear with a sore head afterwards.”

“I hate to interrupt your studies,” I said, casting a glance at the periodical he'd thrown on the desk. “True Detective. I suppose you're considering moonlighting as a private investigator?”

“Or a spy. I might give James Bond a run for his money, and I do think I cut rather a dashing figure in evening attire. Although I detest martinis. I heard you on the blower with the RSPCA; neglect case?”

“We won't know until we get there, but apparently the place is crawling with cats and dogs.” I pulled on my coat.

“Pray that we haven't got another lot of Boris types to cope with.” He paused. “Perhaps I should stay here...”

The door at the end of the hallway crashed open, followed by a heavy tread and a muttered stream of oaths. Tristan grabbed both bags. “I'll bring the car around, James.” He was out the door in a flash. Siegfried was a great motivator sometimes.

It took us some time to find the place. Another ramshackle farmstead out in the middle of nowhere, the yard cluttered with every sort of broken item imaginable; farm equipment, chairs, rain soaked boxes, gardening implements, even what looked like an old piano. We had to practically force our way through to the door. I had spied at least a dozen furry forms skulking about, although it was hard to count them, there were so many hiding places.

The door was opened by an elderly woman in a flowered frock which had seen better times. I was assailed by a smell so overpowering it set me back a step; Tristan nearly fell over a flowerpot trying to backpedal.

“Yes?” she said brightly.

“I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Kolchev. One of your neighbors expressed some concern over your animals. James Herriot; and this Tristan Farnon. Perhaps we could have a look at your pets?”

Tristan was delicately dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief. The woman stepped aside hesitantly. “Well, we weren't expecting visitors. But you may come in, of course. In fact, Blackie seems to have something wrong with his eye. Perhaps you could have a look while you're here.”

We stepped inside, but could barely move, as the entire place was filled to the rafters. There was a narrow passage which snaked its way through mounds of newspapers, boxes, and stacks of books, magazines, and clothes. One corner of the room seemed completely devoted to a massive pile of empty bottles of all description; another, to boxes and bags of dog food, cat food, and who knew what. Various piles moved and rustled, apparently of their own volition, but more likely due to feline inhabitants. It certainly reeked of cats, as well as spoiled food and mildew. Tristan had set one of our bags down and was wildly rummaging through it.

“Terrible cold,” he said, producing a jar of mentholated rub. “I'll just dab a bit of this on, don't mind me.” He smeared some liberally around his nose and on his handkerchief. I grabbed it from him, making a mental note to buy him a pint later for his quick thinking. “Yes, hazard of the job,” I added, applying it around my nose as well. The pungent vapors made my eyes water, but it was far better than the stench in the house.

“Best wrap up this weather. It's the damp what gets ya.” I jumped, because the voice had emanated from what looked to be a pile of inanimate rubbish in the corner. A closer look revealed a gaunt faced old man sitting on a tiny bit of exposed cushion, on what looked to be a couch.

“Ummm, yes, quite right. Well, if you could just produce Blackie, while my partner and I have a word...”, I was already dragging Tristan back toward the front door.

“James, my God! I don't mean to be rude, but the place makes the local dump look posh!” He jumped as a ginger cat shot out from a side room, took a flying leap, and sailed by his ear and onto the top of a bookcase. “That one seems to be in good form.”

“This is more than we can handle, Tris. I've heard about this sort of thing but I hoped never to see it. They're hoarders. It's some sort of uncontrollable mental condition that drives them to collect and keep just about everything they come across. Unfortunately, they often keep animals, particularly cats, as well. They don't mean any harm; I understand that most of the time, they believe that they are doing the right thing, taking in strays, and trying to care for them all. Obviously, they need more help than we can give them. We'll have to get the RSPCA involved, as well as the Town Council. I've no idea how to cope with this. In the meantime, let's see if we can get some kind of estimated count. There has to be at least two dozen in here, plus how ever many are outside. That means checking the attic and the outbuildings as well.”

Tristan heaved a dramatic sigh. “I am now longing for my brother's company after all.”

“Look at it this way, Tris,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You now have the opportunity to hone your investigative and problem solving skills.”

“I'll bet James Bond never smelled of cat pee,” he said sadly.

“Quite the day, James. I don't believe I've ever seen you so worn out, even after an all night calving.” Siegfried poured himself a scotch and sat down.

“What about me?” asked Tristan indignantly.

“My dear brother, you generally look as though you're on your last legs. The only thing that keeps you upright are those two hollow legs of yours filled with booze.” Siegfried stretched out in his chair and yawned. “What was the final count?”

“Roughly 40 some cats, two dogs, and a rabbit. There were several kittens we had to put down immediately, they were so emaciated. Skeletons of at least a dozen more in the attic and shed. It's going to be an immense trapping job, and I expect at least a dozen more of the cats will have to be put down as well, due to various injuries and infections.”

“We'll never find homes for them all, so I'm guessing we may have to destroy the majority of them anyway. The dogs, possibly. I'm wondering what will happen to the Kolchevs. It's perfectly obvious that they can't be left to live in those conditions, and even if the place were cleaned up, they'd be right back at it in no time. With any luck, they've family to take them in.”

“Afraid not,” said Tristan. “Apparently, they have one daughter, who outright refused. Doesn't want her house cluttered, and hasn't the time to spend making arrangements for them.”

“How utterly charming,” said Siegfried dryly. “Familial duty is not always a bed of roses.” He shot a pointed glance at his brother.

I saw Tristan sit upright, with the familiar look of indignation descending upon him. I sighed inwardly; really, couldn't they ever give it a rest?

I jumped in hurriedly. “It is a terrible shame. You have to wonder what they were once like. They certainly looked like a normal couple. I ran across quite a few pictures in a pile in the corner. Mr. Kolchev looked very handsome in his military uniform.”

“Let me remind you, Siegfried, that there may come a time when you have to rely on me.” Tristan wasn't going to let it go.

Siegfried's face turned red. “I suppose you're envisioning me as a doddering old fool living off your good will. Permit me to DISABUSE YOU OF THAT NOTION!” I could see he was heading into heart attack territory.

“Certainly NOT!” replied Tristan just as heatedly. “There's a very nice RAF home for elderly...”

Siegfried slammed his hand down on the armrest of the chair. “THAT'S IT!” he cried.

I idly wondered which of the doors would make the best escape route if they came to blows. Really, I should draw up escape plans for every part of the house. I was just gathering myself to jump to my feet when I saw that, far from being angry, Siegfried was positively beaming.

“That addled brain of yours generates ideas in spite of your every attempt to pickle it. Of course. If he was in the military, then we should be able to get him and his wife into one of those facilities. And since the idea was yours, Little Brother, I expect you to follow through on it tomorrow. James, you might want to put in a call to Sister Rose and see if there's any way that she can take even a few of these poor creatures. With any luck, you two will have a light load of cases for rounds tomorrow.” He drained his glass and set it on the mantel.

“And what will you do?” asked Tristan accusingly.

“Why, I'll be manning the fort, of course. Morning surgery. And then a light lunch with Lord Hulton. He's a valuable client, you know.” He yawned and stretched again. “Well, I think I'll turn in. All of that paperwork really takes it out of me.” He ambled out of the door.

“How does he manage to get out of so much work?” said Tristan wonderingly.

I nearly choked on my drink. “I know one thing, Tris. It appears to be inherited sometimes.”

Tristan, who had used his inexhaustible supply of charm on the daughter, managed to arrange for the Kolchevs to take up residence in what used to be referred to as an “Old Soldier's Home”. Sister Rose had come up with the idea of staging a little fair on her grounds, with all proceeds to go toward the care of the rescued animals until homes could be found; sadly, we'd had to euthanise 18 of the cats. The day of the fair was bright and sunny, and we decided to stop by and see how things were going.

Sister Rose was beaming. “We've done very well, all in all. People donated baked goods to sell, and brought items for a little auction. We've even managed to find homes for a few of the animals already. And, Mrs. Pumphrey was kind enough to donate a generous sum,” she said, turning to the kindly lady cradling the rather fat, but benign looking Pekingese.

“Oh no, no, no,” exclaimed Mrs. Pumphrey. “That was from Tricki, my dear. I'm sorry if you misunderstood.”

“Tricki has his own bank account?” asked Siegfried with a perfectly straight face. Only the twinkle in his eye gave away his inward mirth.

“Of course! Well,” she said, leaning in closely, “I do manage it for him, as he's simply impossibly generous with people. And,” she added in a whisper, “figures are not his strong point.”

Siegfried patted Tricki on the head. “Of course. I find handling accounts to be rather tedious myself. Dear Tricki is lucky to have someone as capable as you to assist.” Tristan ambled by just then, a lovely blond in tow. “I'm rather less fortunate. Please excuse me,” he said, starting after his brother.

“Siegfried,” I said stopping him, “would you mind just having a look at that Collie over there? He's in pretty rough shape, and I'd like a second opinion.”

“He's a lovely dog,” said Sister Rose, “really kind and sweet natured. But I think being among all of the other animals is having a bad effect on him. It's too much noise and activity, and rather than compete for attention, he just withdraws. I'd love to see him go to a nice home, but no one is going to take him in the state he's in. After all, they would be looking at some rather large vet bills.”

Siegfried cleared his throat. “I think we could do something about that. If I examine him, and he's not too badly off, then perhaps you could let any interested parties know that we'll provide free vet service for the dog for a year.”

I stared at him in amazement. He shrugged uncomfortably. “To make Sister Rose happy,” he murmured to me. “Of course,” I replied, smiling, knowing he had a soft heart in spite of his careful attempts to hide it.

Siegfried fetched his bag from the Rover and was giving the dog a thorough going over when I saw Tristan and Sister Rose with their heads together. Tristan mounted the little stage where the auction had been held, and waved his arms to attract everyone's notice. “May I have your attention please!” he called. People slowly moved toward him out of curiosity; after all, Tristan had shown himself to be quite a performer when the mood struck him. They were no doubt hoping for another stellar show. Siegfried was surveying his brother with tight lips and clenched jaw.

“If he makes a fool of himself, I'll bloody well strangle him.” He ran his hands over the dog once more. “Well, this fellow seems to be pretty much in order; he'll need plenty of good food, vitamins, and ointments for those skin problems. The ear mites we'll take care of tomorrow; and the tear on the eyelid, well, there's no obvious damage to the eye but we'll check again when the swelling goes down in a few days.” Sister Rose was making her way over. “Alright, Sister. He should be fine with plenty of loving care and few trips to the surgery.” Siegfried packed up his bag. “I'll just go put this in the car.”

In the meantime, Tristan had been waiting for people to quiet down. I wondered what he was up to now.

“We have here,” he said, turning to point at the Collie, “a really lovely dog. Kind, gentle, good with children. He looks poorly, and he will need some care, but I can assure you that this fine animal will make a wonderful addition to someone's home.” People began to look disinterested. “And,” he said, very loudly, “I have the word of Mr. Siegfried Farnon, my brother and partner, that vet care will be provided, free of charge, for one year.” Many of the farmers were already walking away. A woman motioned to him; Tristan bent down and listened. “Why, yes” he continued, “as a matter of fact, the care WILL be provided personally by Mr. Farnon.” He bent down again. “As many personal visits as necessary.” There was a palpable stir among the women in the crowd. The lady who was questioning Tristan got up on the stage. “I would be happy to take the dog.” Another young lady with glossy brown hair and a jaunty hat climbed up on the stage as well. “I was just about to offer. I've been looking for a dog to keep me company since my husband died. It's very lonely being a widow.”

“Now ladies,” said Tristan, “surely...”

“Why didn't we get a chance?” shouted someone from the back of the crowd.

It looked to me like things might be slipping from the younger Farnon's grasp. How little I knew.

“Well, it looks like the only thing to do would be to have a sort of auction, with all proceeds benefiting Sister Rose's animal welfare work.” There was a murmur of approval.

“What's going on?” asked Siegfried, appearing at my elbow.

“Tristan's auctioning you off,” I replied.

“Pardon?”

I seldom saw Siegfried at a loss, and I thoroughly enjoyed it for a second.

“Tristan's auctioning you off,” I repeated.

“James,” he said, rubbing his forehead tiredly, “would you kindly take some time and explain to me EXACTLY what is happening here?”

“Certainly,” I replied cheerfully. “Your brother has informed everyone that free vet service would accompany adoption of the dog. Actually, that free vet service specifically provided by YOU would accompany the dog. Several women stepped forward at the same time, and to prevent an altercation, Tristan came up with the idea of holding an auction as the only fair resolution, proceeds to go to Sister Rose. It seems to have generated an unseemly interest among the weaker sex.”

“Five pounds,” screeched a clearly excited woman.

“And it seems you'll...I mean the dog...will fetch a good price.”

“Oh my God,” said Siegfried.

“So, Tris, what was the final tally?” I asked, putting down the paper.

“Total for the day? Close to ninety-five pounds, including Tricki's benevolent bequest. And where is the man of the day?” He shoved the dogs off the couch and sat down.

“Upstairs, lying down. He's none to thrilled with you, Tris, although I pointed out that he was the one who made the offer. All you did was publicize it.” I grinned at him. It had been a marvelous ploy.

He grinned back.

I folded the paper and stood up. “I'm about all in. Let's hope for a quiet night for once.” On my way out of the door I remembered. “So, Tris, who's the lucky woman?”

Tristan casually lit a cigarette. “Gladys Lockhart.”

I was horrified and amused at the same time. “That Amazon of a nursing supervisor? The one who chased him around town for weeks? I thought we'd gotten rid of her with the cat episode.”

Tristan wore a cherubic smile. “I felt it my moral obligation to set her straight about that. You know how Siegfried's always harping on honor and all that rot.”

I shook my head. “Still have that bag packed by your door?”

“Always, James,” he said with a smile. “Always.” (Since there's no reply link for your reviews, TT () ,thanks for the warm words. You inspire me as well.)