Dog Stories - James Herriot
James Herriot`s Dog Stories is an enchanting collection of anecdotes about the innumerable `small` but important animals he treated during the course of his veterinary practice in North Yorkshire, England. The dogs won a special place in the country vet`s heart and remained there. Dogs like Tricki Woo and his peculiar way of going `flop-bott`; Tip, the only dog who slept under a heap of snow; Cedric, the dog who emanated an aura of endless affability as well as obnoxious vapours, and, of course, the unforgettable Magnus. Writing with humour and style, Herriot brings the rolling hills of Yorkshire to life.
These stories can be read over and over again and almost all of them will bring a chuckle to the lips or a lump in the throat. His writing lets you take a peek into the Yorkshire of the 1940`s and `50`s , when medicine was not so advanced and people still enjoyed the simple pleasures of life.
James Herriot is the pen-name of James Alfred Wight. He was born in1916. Most of Herriot`s books are about his days as a practising vet in the Yorkshire dales. They include If Only They Could Talk, It Shouldn`t Happen To A Vet and Let Sleeping Vets Lie among others. There is also an omnibus edition of four books named after the refrain of a popular hymn called All Things Bright and Beautiful.
Wight died of cancer in 1995.
`Pandemonium broke out in the graceful room. The hostess`s plaintive appeals rang out above the cries of alarm as the big dog charged around, but very soon I realised that a more insidious element had crept into the situation. The atmosphere in the room became rapidly charged with an unmistakable effluvium and it was clear that Cedric`s unfortunate malady had reasserted itself.
I did my best to shepherd the animal out of the room but he didn`t seem to know the meaning of obidience and I chased him in vain. And as the embarrassing moments ticked away I began to realise for the first time the enormity of the problem which confronted Mrs Rumney. Most dogs break wind occasionally but Cedric was different: he did it all the time. And while his silent emanations were perhaps more treacherous, there was no doubt that the audible ones were painfully distressing in company like this"