“Hard weekend?”
“Five bloody horses kicked each
other one after the other, all needed stitched, and one was bloody mental, I
gave it 50mls ketamine and it was still standing. In the end I put a rope on
it, tied it's head to its feet and sat on the bugger, just bloody stitched it
from there.”
I grinned and
went to put the kettle on. There was always a shaggy dog story with Bill.
Unlike me he didn't have to report when he was going out on a call and when he
was back safely, so he could make up any story on a Monday and I couldn't say
otherwise. My on-call weekends were usually fairly steady, a couple of call
outs, maybe a colic would involve visiting every four hours but otherwise it
was manageable the most part of the time. Speak to Bill on a Mon morning and
you would think he'd been sent to a war zone.
He followed me to the kettle.
“Went to see Marg’ret Cook
yes'day, one of her granddaughters’ dogs, that bulldog thing, went for Foxy”
Foxy was an old one eyed mongrel with big pointed ears that suggested German
Shepherd ancestry somewhere along the line. “ She had a big rip doon her side
an needed stitched up. So I went up to the house 'cause you allus get a good
feed up there. Well, I goes inta the livin room and there was this coffin laid
out, an wor Andy was in it! After Auwl Andra died he went tae bits an drank
hissel tae death. It's taken him a coupla year like, he looked rough as hell
last I saw. There was no tellin him like. So Young Andra’s in this coffin, an
Foxy's lyin underneath it, an poor Ma’gret's there wi aw the family roon. And I
had to knock it oot and stitch it up right under the coffin. So I flattened it
an got into it wi the needle and there's this big bang ootside. An Ma’gret's
sons all come back in wi the gun an say – he'll no dae that again. The
granddaughter starts greetin an twistin on. Wild like.”
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