The Triumph Of Surgery
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- Within minutes, about thirty feet of gleaming black metal drew upoutside the surgery. The chauffeur opened the door and I could justmake out the figure of Mrs Pumphrey almost lost in the interior.
- “Yes, he’s fine. There’s no need for you to get out of the car — I’ll go and fetch him.”
- “Oh, MrHerriot, do tell me the truth. Is he really better?”
- I walked through the house into the garden. A mass of dogs washurtling round and round the lawn and in their midst, ears flapping,tail waving, was the little golden figure of Tricki. In two weeks he hadbeen transformed into a lithe, hard-muscled animal; he was keepingup well with the pack, stretching out in great bounds, his chest almostbrushing the ground.
- During the excitement, I helped the chauffeur to bring out the beds,toys, cushions, coats and bowls, none of which had been used. As thecar moved away, Mrs Pumphrey leaned out of the window. Tears shonein her eyes. Her lips trembled.
- “Oh, Mr Herriot,” she cried, “how can I ever thank you? This is atriumph of surgery!”
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