Читать книгу Magpie - Sophie Draper - Страница 17

The surgery was full again, dogs barking, cats yowling, owners shuffling on their seats. An elderly man was berating Sally on reception and Duncan could see she was struggling to keep a pleasant expression on her face. He clocked her beseeching glance.

‘Mr Garfield,’ he said. ‘I do believe you and Betsy are next?’

Duncan reached out a hand and nodded briskly towards his consulting room door.

The man gave an impatient tug on his dog’s lead. A long-suffering greyhound followed them into the room, its thin, stiff tail tucked firmly between its legs. The man sat down and Duncan crouched on his heels and ran his hand over the dog’s head.

‘So, what can we do for this old girl?’

His voice was light, but his jaw was set. The dog looked back at him, its eyes deep pools of warm brown.

‘Lost control of her bladder, ’asn’t she. Keeps pissing on the floor all times of day. Can’t be ’aving that. Reckon it’s time to say goodbye.’

Duncan felt his fingers clench, then he smoothed his hand over the dog’s ears and down its neck. The animal wriggled its haunches and turned its head away, skittering on its rear legs. It seemed to have understood what was being said.

‘I don’t think we should jump to any conclusion about that. Let’s have a look at her.’

Duncan drew his hand down the dog’s body, feeling her underside, reaching for the area over her bladder, then moving on to inspect under her tail. The area looked raw and uncomfortable, the effect of urine scorching her skin. A pungent, dark-coloured puddle had already appeared at her feet.

‘See what I mean?’ The old man gave the dog a rough tug.

‘There’s no need for that!’ Duncan said, unable to contain the sharpness in his voice.

It was the kind of appointment he abhorred. When a client had had enough of his animal’s problems and wanted the cheap, easy way out. The man wasn’t worthy of owning a dog. He eyed the colour of that puddle on the floor.

‘There’s nothing here we can’t fix. Incontinence is not unusual in an elderly female dog. Is she relieving herself normally outside?’

There was a hesitation, then the man nodded.

‘Aye. Tak’ her out most days.’

Duncan frowned. The dog was panting and she’d dipped her head as if it were too heavy to hold up. Duncan gritted his teeth. What had Garfield been doing to her this time?

‘Is she drinking plenty?’

Another hesitation. Duncan’s suspicion increased.

‘You are giving her plenty of water?’

The man still didn’t answer.

‘Jesus Christ, man – if you don’t give her enough water, you’ll make things even worse. Is that what you’d do to yourself?’

The man dropped his eyes. Duncan took the dog’s head gently in his hands, observing her face and nose, then carefully pushing on each side of her mouth to inspect the gums.

‘She’s clearly dehydrated. What are you playing at, eh? Did you think reducing her water would mean less mess? You need to give her plenty!’

It could be an infection, Duncan mused. The water would help flush it out. Or it could be loss of control of the sphincter muscle. That wasn’t uncommon for a dog her age.

‘The more concentrated the urine, the more uncomfortable it’s going to be.’ Duncan leaned back and the man grunted. ‘See that rawness under the tail? How would you feel if that were you?’

Garfield didn’t reply.

‘How long have you had her?’ Duncan stroked the dog’s head.

He already knew the answer; Garfield had been coming to the practice for years. The question was more to make a point.

‘Since she were a puppy,’ said Garfield reluctantly.

‘So you do care about her, don’t you?’

‘Course I do!’ The man ground his teeth.

‘Well, she’s definitely not ready to meet her Maker.’ Duncan’s tone hardened. ‘I suggest you make sure there’s plenty of padding in her bed, that she has a clean, full bowl of water every morning. Take her for walks, every day. Especially first and last thing – and as many extra ones as you can both manage. You need to wash her backside with clean, warm water on a regular basis and we’ll start her on this.’

Duncan tapped out a prescription on his PC and the printer began to chug.

‘Quite often, it’s the result of a hormonal imbalance, so I’m hoping this will help. There’s lots we can do, Mr Garfield, before …’

Duncan snorted. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He turned his back on the man, reaching out to grasp the prescription from the printer tray.

‘Humph.’ Garfield took the piece of paper and stood up.

The dog was still looking at Duncan, as if to say: Don’t make me go with him.

‘If it’s causing you a problem, keep her in the kitchen – and remember that absorbent padding on her bed.’

Another grunt.

‘I want to see her again in a week’s time.’

You’d better bloody turn up, thought Duncan.

The man and his dog left.