Herriot - Every Living Thing

To my revered and elderly friends,

Polly and Bodie

Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

I AM NEVER AT my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears. It was a cheerless time, and a particularly bad time to be standing in this cobbled farmyard watching a beautiful horse dying because of my incompetence.

It had started at eight oclock. Mr. Kettlewell telephoned as I was finishing my breakfast.

I ave a fine big cart-oss here and hes come out in spots.

Oh, really, what kind of spots?

Well, round and flat, and theyre all over im.

And it started quite suddenly?

Aye, he were right as rain last night.

All right, Ill have a look at him right away. I nearly rubbed my hands. Urticaria. It usually cleared up spontaneously, but an injection hastened the process and I had a new antihistamine drug to try outit was said to be specific for this sort of thing. Anyway, it was the kind of situation where it was easy for the vet to look good. A nice start to the day.

In the fifties, the tractor had taken over most of the work on the farms, but there was still a fair number of draught horses around, and when I arrived at Mr. Kettlewells place I realised that this one was something special.

The farmer was leading him from a loose box into the yard. A magnificent Shire, all of eighteen hands, with a noble head that he tossed proudly as he paced towards me. I appraised him with something like awe, taking in the swelling curve of the neck, the deep-chested body, the powerful limbs abundantly feathered above the massive feet.

What a wonderful horse! I gasped. Hes enormous!

Mr. Kettlewell smiled with quiet pride. Aye, hes a right smasher. I only bought im last month. I do like to have a good oss about. He was a tiny man, elderly but sprightly, and one of my favourite farmers. He had to reach high to pat the huge neck and was nuzzled in return. Hes kind, too. Right quiet.

Ah, well, its worth a lot when a horse is good-natured as well as good-looking. I ran my hand over the typical plaques in the skin.

Yes, this is urticaria, all right.

Whats that?

Sometimes its called nettle rash. Its an allergic condition. He may have eaten something unusual, but its often difficult to pinpoint the cause.

Is it serious?

Oh, no. I have an injection thatll soon put him right. Hes well enough in himself, isnt he?

Aye, right as a bobbin.

Good. Sometimes it upsets an animal, but this fellows the picture of health.

As I filled my syringe with the antihistamine I felt that I had never spoken truer words. The big horse radiated health and well-being.

He did not move as I gave the injection, and I was about to put my syringe away when I had another thought. I had always used a proprietary preparation for urticaria and it had invariably worked. Maybe it would be a good idea to supplement the antihistamine, just to make sure. I wanted a good, quick cure for this splendid horse.

I trotted back to my car to fetch the old standby and injected the usual dose. Again the big animal paid no attention and the farmer laughed.

By gaw, he doesnt mind, does e?

I pocketed the syringe. No, I wish all our patients were like him. Hes a grand sort.

This, I thought, was vetting at its best. An easy, trouble-free case, a nice farmer and a docile patient who was a picture of equine beauty, a picture I could have looked at all day. I didnt want to go away, though other calls were waiting. I just stood there, half listening to Mr. Kettlewells chatter about the imminent lambing season.

Ah, well, I said at length, I must be on my way. I was turning to go when I noticed that the farmer had fallen silent.

The silence lasted for a few moments, then, Hes dotherin a bit, he said.

I looked at the horse. There was the faintest tremor in the muscles of the limbs. It was hardly visible, but as I watched, it began to spread upwards, minute by minute, until the skin over the neck, body and rump began to quiver. It was very slight, but there was no doubt it was gradually increasing in intensity.

What is it? said Mr. Kettlewell.

Oh, just a little reaction. Itll soon pass off. I was trying to sound airy, but I wasnt so sure.

With agonising slowness the trembling developed into a generalised shaking of the entire frame, and this steadily increased in violence as the farmer and I stood there in silence. I seemed to have been there a long time, trying to look calm and unworried, but I couldnt believe what I was seeing. This sudden, inexplicable transitionthere was no reason for it. My heart began to thump and my mouth turned dry as the shaking was replaced by great shuddering spasms that racked the horses frame, and his eyes, so serene a short while ago, started from his head in terror, while foam began to drop from his lips. My mind raced. Maybe I shouldnt have mixed those injections, but it couldnt have this fearful effect. It was impossible.

As the seconds passed, I felt I couldnt stand much more of this. The blood hammered in my ears. Surely he would start to recover soonhe couldnt get worse.

I was wrong. Almost imperceptibly the huge animal began to sway. Only a little at first, then more and more till he was tilting from side to side like a mighty oak in a gale. Oh, dear God, he was going to go down and that would be the end. And that end had to come soon. The cobbles shook under my feet as the great horse crashed to the ground. For a few moments he lay there, stretched on his side, his feet pedalling convulsively, then he was still.

Well, that was it. I had killed this magnificent horse. It was impossible, unbelievable, but a few minutes ago that animal had been standing there in all his strength and beauty and I had come along with my clever new medicines and now there he was, dead.

What was I going to say? Im terribly sorry, Mr. Kettlewell, I just cant understand how this happened. My mouth opened, but nothing came out, not even a croak. And, as though looking at a picture from the outside, I became aware of the square of farm buildings with the dark, snow-streaked fells rising behind under a lowering sky, of the biting wind, the farmer and myself, and the motionless body of the horse.

I felt chilled to the bone and miserable, but I had to say my piece. I took a long, quavering breath and was about to speak when the horse raised his head slightly. I said nothing, nor did Mr. Kettlewell, as the big animal eased himself onto his chest, looked around for a few seconds and got to his feet. He shook his head, then walked across to his master. The recovery was just as quick, just as incredible, as the devastating collapse, and he showed no ill effects from his crashing fall onto the cobbled yard.

The farmer reached up and patted the horses neck.

You know, Mr. Herriot, them spots have nearly gone!

I went over and had a look. Thats right. You can hardly see them now.

Mr. Kettlewell shook his head wonderingly. Aye, well, its a wonderful new treatment. But Ill tell tha summat. I hope you dont mind me sayin this, buthe put his hand on my arm and looked up into my faceah think its just a bit drastic.