(SHEPHERD WHISTLES)
(CONTINUES WHISTLING)
MAN: (ON PA) Would the owner of BNV416
please move his car as he's blocking...
-Hi, Fred. -A very good gather.
Oh, well done!
-Can I go now, Mummy? -Oh, yes, darling. You've been very patient.
-I need to go too, Mum. -Well, we all need to go. Come on.
-Make it a family trip! -(ALL CHUCKLE)
(WHISTLING CONTINUES)
FRED: He's missed that. He'll get nought for that.
-Hello, Seb. -Mr Farnon.
-Disappointing old day, isn't it? -Indeed. Sit!
-Any of yours running? -Nah.
Still training these two up just now.
SIEGFRIED: Fine looking pair. Are they out of the same litter?
SEB: Aye, out of old Lacey.
-The bitch that made the national final? -That's the one. Stay!
-Now there's something for you, Mr Farnon. -What's that?
Gyp there, he don't bark.
Never has done since he were born.
(CHUCKLES) Like a four-legged Peter Pan or something!
-The dog that wouldn't grow up. -Happens sometimes.
Hasn't kept him back, mind. Right good ones, both of them.
But I reckon Gyp, even without his woof, has something special.
Look. He knows I'm talking about him.
Having no voice seems to make his understanding sharper.
Mr Farnon! Hello, sir.
Mr Farnon, it's Blaze! We're due in next, but he's taken poorly!
-Could you come and have a look? -Yes, of course. Where is he?
He's over here.
Come on. Come on.
MR BIGGINS: Mr Herriot!
Jimmy, go and find Mum, will you?
-I've been looking for you, veterinarian. -Well, here I am, Mr Biggins.
Thing is, a cow of mine's grunting a bit.
Ah. Would you like me to look at him?
Well, I don't know. Happens she's not as bad as all that.
-Whatever you say. -Nay, 'tis what you say. You're the vet.
I can't tell you what's wrong, Mr Biggins, unless I see the animal, you see.
It costs brass every time you chaps step onto my place.
Look, we've gone through this before.
Would you like me to come and look at your cow or not?
I know what'll happen.
You'll come once, and the day after, and then the day after that!
In the finish, it'd be cheaper if I gave you the cow at the end of it all!
It's your animal, Mr Biggins. So, do I visit or not?
I can't afford to have you pouring expensive medicines
down her throat if there's naught wrong, can I now?
It's always the same, Mr Biggins? You can't make up your mind!
So, what would you like me to do?
Well, I'll think on it.
If she's no better by morning, I'll telephone.
Whatever you say.
It'd be no good ringing if she died in the night! (LAUGHS)
I'd be ringing the knackers then, wouldn't I?
If you need me, Mr Biggins, you know where I am.
-What was that all about? -Oh, the silly old misery.
He can't make up his mind if he wants me to look at his cow.
-(CHUCKLES) Again? -Again!
Siegfried could do nothing?
No, not a thing. Jim Crossley's shattered.
He's put a great deal of effort into training up that dog.
I'd like to try it.
-Try what? -Train a champion dog.
Oh, yeah. Well, like I said, it takes a very long time.
I've seen how Mr Wilkin does with Gyp and Sweep, and they're brilliant.
Some people say Gyp's no good because he can't bark.
-He can't bark? -Really!
Look at this. Children, come here, look.
I wonder how they got here.
JAMES: They're wild by the look of them.
HELEN: Poor things look half famished.
ROSIE: They can have my breakfast.
JIMMY: They can't, you've eaten it.
HELEN: Don't worry, there's lots of scraps left.
-But there's Sammy. -Oh, that great lump can do without treats for one day.
-Come on, you two. Come get ready for school. -Sorry.
-Morning, Harriet. Permission to work? -Morning, Calum.
-Okay this morning? -There's nothing like a dawn constitutional
to get the blood racing.
You should try it yourself, James. Dawn on Sennor.
The veils of night retreating from the face of mother nature.
And then the moment when all is revealed.
Man face to face with his creator.
Well, it's face to face with my clients that I need to be.
James, you've no soul.
Et tu, Calum? I've a long list of visits waiting.
-Bye. -Bye, love.
Uh, you had any breakfast, Calum?
Mmm... Nothing as good as this.
-What have you had? -Cake.
Cake for breakfast? Oh, Calum...
Yes, a whole Dundee cake baked by the fair hand of Deirdre herself.
You see, I wasn't up to hunting duck eggs this morning.
Sit down. I'll get you something proper to eat in a moment.
-That's very good, you know. -Yes. It's cat food.
Mmm-hmm.
MOLLIE: Sorry to get you back so soon, Mr Herriot, but it looked like an SOS.
It's the same old problem, Mollie. Chronic depression.
I bet he hasn't eaten his food either, has he?
He just lies there, looking right sorry for himself, poor thing.
I hoped that last injection might have done the trick.
He were fine for a week or so, but then he seemed to lose ground again.
I have never been able to pin down the problem, you see.
But you don't give up on him, do you?
I reckon I've got your measure, young man.
Like Sir Charles Armitage had mine
when I was convinced I'd not survive me operation years back.
Sir Charles Armitage?
Aye. Saved me life he did, when I'd been told I had not but months to live.
That's a picture of him over there.
They do say he was a brilliant surgeon.
More than that, Mr Herriot. He cared, you see.
He gave you the hope to struggle on when others, even myself, had given up.
-John Wayne? -(CHUCKLES) Aye.
The other man in my life.
Sir Charles because he spoke from the heart,
and John Wayne because he's me favourite film star.
It's a hard act to follow.
We all have things that are special,
but some of us have that little extra. Don't we?
I wish I had some of it now, to help Robbie.
You do your best. That's all that matters, Mr Herriot.
Morning.
Called out at 4:00 a.m.
Oh?
My entire night's sleep ruined!
-Thanks to you. -Me?
You do know Williams of Mirebeck Farm?
-Williams... Yes, yes. -Hmm.
He called me out to a cow with a mild impaction of the rumen.
He's been messing about with it himself for days.
Linseed oil, bicarb and ginger.
Then suddenly, at 4:00 this morning, he decides to fetch me out of bed.
It could have waited, could it not?
Precisely. And so it would have done
had others not encouraged him to do otherwise.
That's nothing to do with me.
Calum, it has everything to do with you.
It was you who incited him to telephone day or night,
no matter how trivial the problem.
I told him to phone me, Siegfried, not you.
Nevertheless, it was me he got out of bed.
It is simply no good pandering to panicky clients.
Well, I'm sorry. I had no idea he would take my words literally.
But I'd hate to lose a patient because a client was worried about getting me out of bed.
You're new to this practice, still wet behind the ears
as far as some of these chaps are concerned.
Give them an inch, they grab a mile.
You can never be sure, though. I mean, how would you feel if an animal died?
Ha! Nothing like a dead animal to bring some of these people to their senses.
It might make them call us out a bit earlier next time.
I'll bear that in mind, Siegfried.
In which case, this entire unnecessary business
will have been worthwhile.
Bye.
Bye, Calum.
What the devil kept you?
-Mr Farnon. -Yes, Miss?
(CHUCKLING)
Siegfried Farnon, this is my brother Tristan.
Jean Derrick.
And how can we be of service to you?
Well, I need some advice on goats, actually.
-Goats! Come along in. -Thank you.
-Goats. Now then... -It's Tristan Farnon I've come to see.
On the subject of goats?
Yes, I understand from my friend, Miss Grantly,
that you're the expert in the practice, Mr Farnon.
-Well, um... -Oh, it's not an inconvenient time?
Good heavens, no. Unfortunately, my brother does have some
rather urgent business elsewhere,
but I'm entirely at your disposal, Miss Derrick.
-Missus, actually. -Mrs Derrick.
-Yes.
Uh, well, goodbye. I leave you in the more than capable hands
of our resident goat expert.
JEAN: Thank you.
-Do take a seat, Mrs Derrick. -Thank you.
I can't tell you what a relief it is to find someone like you.
And almost on my doorstep.
I'm surprised we haven't met before.
We've only been living here since last autumn.
When my husband retired.
He needed a less stressful life. We both did, I suppose.
-And since he has his tomatoes... -Tomatoes?
Oh, it's his hobby, growing prize tomatoes for competition.
Oh, I see.
I have such a lot of time on my hands.
So, why not do something useful, I thought.
Like keeping a goat. Yes, the perfect solution, Mrs Derrick.
Exactly. I've been reading up on the different breeds.
But I'd very much like your opinion on a suitable type.
Uh, well, the, um, the Anglo Nubian is a tolerably good sort
for the first-time goat keeper.
The one that looks a bit like a dog? Lovely long ears?
Yes. Fairly low on the milk yield, of course,
but if you crossed it with, say, a British Saanen, that shouldn't be a problem.
Then there's the Toggenburg, the Alpine...
The pretty black and white one.
Yes, but they're low on milk yield too, aren't they?
Quite low, yes.
But of course, what you lose in milk, you make up with butter fat content.
-Isn't that so? -I can see you know you way around goats, Mrs Derrick.
Oh, only from books.
But listening to you now, I'm confident I can cope with keeping one, Mr Farnon.
-Tristan. -Jean.
Hello.
(SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)
Making friends?
HELEN: Strange, isn't it, them turning up here out of the blue?
I mean, choosing us.
She needed food for her youngster.
-Probably lost the rest of the litter. -Oh.
-Doesn't bear thinking about. -(LOUD MUSIC PLAYING)
-Rosie! -James!
Bloody gramophone.
Come on, the weeds in your home needs sorting out.
That's not true, Mr Biggins.
Yes, all right. I will come out right away.
It's that fool, Biggins.
-What's wrong, James? -His cow's dead.
What, the one he talked to you about at the trials?
He couldn't make up his mind whether the animal
was sick enough to pay for treatment.
This morning he finds it dead.
Penny wise and pound foolish, our Mr Biggins.
How many times have I warned him about early treatment?
Now the cow dies and he implies it's my fault.
James. Just look at yourself. You're red in the face, all tensed up.
Professional men all over the country are cracking up, and do you know why?
Mr Biggins!
Because they won't relax, James.
They get all steamed up about little things, then they all end up with heart attacks
and ulcers.
-Well, that's all very well, Siegfried... -Calm, James, inner calm.
After all, what does it matter? It'll all the be the same in 100 years,
so why fret?
-(PHONE RINGING) -Darrowby 385.
-Pleased with the job, then, Veterinary? -It's your fault, Mr Biggins.
You're denying that I told you she were poorly?
You stopped me coming out to look at her, remember?
Aye, that was when it were not but a bit of a cough!
That bit of a cough, Mr Biggins, was chronic pneumonia!
Fine time to be tellin' me that now, Veterinary.
Aye, my loss, thanks to you!
50 pound I gave for that cow!
Now then, gents. No sense in getting aerated, gents.
I've said all I'm sayin' to this fella!
Let's get on with the job then.
I told you our terms, Mr Biggins.
Aye. An' I've made a few enquiries
round some of the other yards, young Winston.
They about laughing at what you're payin' me!
But you'll not better it, tha knows.
Come on. There's no point in kicking a man when he's down.
If beast were on hoof, you'd get more.
With stagnation of the lung, there's loss on the carcass.
Come on. Get yer hand down!
Ten bob on top, same as old Charlie Millichip offered.
And it's all mine.
Charlie Millichip out of Scanton?
Aye. Pleaded with me to give him it.
I can't deny him a living to let you have one, can I?
Well, Charlie's got houseful of bairns to feed.
We'll not take crust from his table.
Hey, what's tha doing, Mallock?
Nay, Mallock, you can't do that!
What the hum is goin' on? Nay, I...
Why'd you do that, you daft lummock?
Tell Charlie we wish him all the best with the carcass.
I shouldn't leave that lying around too long. Health hazard.
Bye, Winston.
(SHEPHERD WHISTLING)
Puss, puss, puss, puss!
Puss, puss, puss!
She'll be right as rain in no time, Seb!
Aye.
That is to say, you've got a good prospect that Gyp.
He were just going through the motions today.
You could have fooled me!
His brother Sweep's that's the problem.
-He off-colour? -He's gone, Mr Farnon.
-Gyp's missing him bad. -You sold him?
No, I swore I'd never split the pair. They're like identical twins.
But you know what happened to Jim Crossley's Blaze?
Yes, a sad business.
Jim was cut up bad, losing his only dog like that.
Any road, the long and short of the matter is I gave him Sweep.
I see...
He did me a good turn a few years back.
Only fair you remember who your friends are, Mr Farnon.
It must have been a difficult decision,
deciding which dog to keep.
There were little to choose between them,
but I always fancied Gyp in a funny kind of way.
Look at him!
He keeps watching the track up here, waiting for Sweep to come home.
-If only they could talk, huh? -Aye...
An act of outstanding generosity,
to pass on an almost fully-trained dog out of pure friendship!
An altogether admirable character, Seb Wilkin.
Jimmy wants to have a go training one now.
I don't doubt it. (LAUGHING)
-He'll learn. -Morning.
There's still no sign of them.
Oh, they're probably lurking about somewhere.
They haven't touched the food I left out yesterday. I hope they come back.
They'd be crazy to pass up a soft touch like you!
Here she is.
-Well, what do you think? -Ah, yes, a Toggenburg.
Her name's Gilda, after Rita Hayworth.
And just as sleek and seductive as her namesake.
(BLEATS)
-No problems, I hope. -No, she's perfect.
She's got a good appetite, gluttonous even,
but only one kind of food at a time.
Yes, they have the reputation of eating anything
that's chucked at them, up to and including old rope.
Not true, actually. Very fussy eaters in their way.
Goats.
She'll eat one thing for days, goes completely off it, then go on to something else.
-Like today, only wants to eat the garden nettles. -(CHUCKLES) Typical.
And, uh, is she milking well?
Oh, yes, masses. Bit of a job knowing what to do with it all.
My husband's never been so healthy!
It seems to have worked out well for you.
There have been a few problems. Not with Gilda.
My husband's not too keen on her sharing the garden with his tomatoes.
-You do keep her tethered? -Oh, of course.
He's being very silly about it all.
I told him you said there'd be no problems.
He's still convinced she's after them.
I proved him wrong though. I took one of his silly tomatoes and offered Gilda
-She turned her nose up! -Sensible Gilda!
(BLEATS)
Mr Biggins?
Mr Biggins!
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Blast! Where the hell are you, Biggins?
(HONKING)
Mr Biggins!
Now then, Veterinary, calm thyself.
-You're worrying my stock carrying on like this. -You're right. I'm sorry.
It's just that you were nowhere to be seen.
Well, now that you're here, what can I do for you?
You called me!
Not called exactly.
I just said that if you were, like, passing,
-I'd be... -I was passing.
I'm here now. So what do you want? Exactly.
Aye. I thought you'd likely be passing.
On my way to several other calls, some of them urgent.
So if we can get to the point, I can get on.
You're like all young 'uns.
Dashing all over. It'll make thee badly.
I'm not here to discuss my health. Look, have you got a sick animal?
Sick animal, did you say? I'm not a veterinary!
That's up to thee to judge!
-Come on then. Where is it? -Where's what?
If you don't show me the animal, I'm getting back in my car and I'm going!
Your animal may then die unattended. And you'll be out of pocket.
So for the last time, where is it?
Oh... You want to see it, then?
Yes, I want to see it, and I want to see it now.
-Is that clear? -Aye, that's clear, that you want to see an animal.
There's a good ewe I bought. I'll show thee.
At last! Lead the way, Mr Biggins!
She's in there.
I'm not saying she's ill, mind.
But you're here and want to see her, so I don't mind showing her.
Wait a minute. What are you playing at?
I'm playing at nothing! Haven't got the time. Time's money, tha knows!
So let's stop wasting it and look at your ewe, shall we?
Right you are! Come on, this way!
-Thank you for your help, Tristan. -Here...
For you. Some of my very own goat's cheese.
-My husband adores it. -Thank you!
Also, I was hoping you could you come to lunch next Wednesday.
My husband will still be away, and it'll give me a chance to talk goat shop.
Can you come?
I think I can arrange that, Jean.
Besides, I can try out some of my new goaty recipes on you.
Can't wait.
Goodbye, Jean, and thank you for the cheese.
I hope you like it. Bye, Tristan.
JAMES: She seems to be in perfect health, Mr Biggins.
"Seems to be," Veterinary? Are you not sure?
As far as I can tell, this animal is perfectly healthy.
"As far as you can tell"?
Do you mean to say that she might be a wrong 'un?
As you so often point out, Mr Biggins, I am the veterinary.
I've examined her and I can find nothing wrong with it.
She may be suffering from a latent disease,
she may, in fact, already have a disease as yet unknown to veterinary science.
I'm not a fortune teller, Mr Biggins, but I am a vet.
And, as a vet, I'm telling you this animal is perfectly fit!
Is that better?
You're beginning to get aerated again, Mr Herriot.
I've noticed that coming out in you before.
But I'm glad you think she's fine.
Splendid.
-If there's nothing more... -Ah, but there is.
This ewe, you see, she comes from a lot of 20.
-Twenty? -Aye.
Would you like to see the other 19?
Well, tell me Mr Biggins, are they all equally fit?
-Well, now, you are... -The veterinary! I know!
And I think I know your little game!
Nay, I don't play little games...
And time is money, yes, I remember.
Well, my time is money, Mr Biggins! As you will soon find out.
No, don't go rushing off like that!
Look, you hoped for a free examination of all your sheep.
My professional opinion for nothing.
Big mistake, Mr Biggins.
You can to forward to a bill for both the examination and the call!
You asked to see the ewe!
-You manoeuvred me into seeing it! -You asked to see it!
Oh, God.
Ah, I just asked you to drop in if you were passing. It was not a call!
It was a call, Mr Biggins.
It was not a call. It was more like a favour between neighbours!
If I thought it a billing matter...
For God's sake! It is a billing matter! When will you ever learn?
-That's the fault wi' you young ones! -Fault? What fault?
You've got no sense of humour!
(RAUCOUS LAUGHTER)
CALUM: Right. From now on we're on our feet.
-No sign of them? -Completely vanished.
-(PHONE RINGS) -Oh.
(CLEAR THROAT)
Now, don't you worry, Seb, I'll be with you directly. Right, right. Bye.
-James? Seth's good dog, Gyp. -Yes.
He's just had some kind of fit. I have to go out straight away.
Calum can stand in for afternoon surgery.
I'll do it. It's his day off. He's spending it up in Sennor.
He's very concerned for the welfare the deer.
Admirable.
We can't be responsible for all the wretchedness in this vale of tears.
-Has this happened before? -Aye, a few times.
You never mentioned it to me.
I know dogs, Mr Farnon.
I've seen plenty with fits, and can guess as to what caused it.
Worms, wrong feeding... Unless it's distemper, I can cope wi' it myself.
What's he like after these fits?
Bit dazed, like, then he's back to normal, just like now,
bright as a bobbin.
I've tried everything I know. It won't go away.
You can stop trying, Seb... He has epilepsy.
-Epilepsy? -Yes.
But...
-He's a grand, normal dog most of the time. -Indeed.
That's how it is with epilepsy.
I see.
Something wrong with his brain, is it?
No, there's not really anything wrong with the brain, it's, uh...
It's a very mysterious disease.
That's a rum 'un!
Come on... Stay.
Will he get better?
Well, there are some pills he can have to decrease the number of attacks.
But that's not a cure, because there simply isn't one.
These fits, they can come on at any time? Like during a trial?
Oh, yes.
That's it, then.
He won't be up to the job he was bred and trained for.
I'm not one to keep useless work dogs about the place.
Especially one that's gonna need them tablets the rest of his life.
He'd be no good to me... And not much use to himself neither!
That's your decision, of course.
But, apart from the fits, he'd lead a comparatively normal life.
A pet? A ruddy laughing stock I'll be!
Seb Wilkin, a trainer of champion sheepdogs,
nursing an old crock like that!
I'll leave you to think about it. I'll be back later with the tablets.
Aye, do that. But I don't guarantee he'll need 'em!
I've been looking forward to this for a very long time.
What? Trying out your new bike?
Well, that, yes, and...
-And me. -You?
No, the cake.
Haven't had any since breakfast time, remember.
Oh, you come a close second.
(BOTH LAUGH)
(PHONE RINGS)
-Darrowby 385. -MOLLIE: Is that Mr Herriot?
Mollie? Hello.
-It's Rob, is it? -Aye. Poor old lad's looking right poorly.
Yes, all right, Mollie. I'll come out straight away. Bye.
I'm afraid he really is very bad, Mollie.
Aye. I knew as much the minute I saw him.
He's in a coma, and even if...
Say the truth of it. We've known each other too long to say naught else.
Yes, of course.
Right... I'll give him a stimulant, but I don't think it'll work.
I'm sorry.
Ah, well, Mr Herriot, you did what you could.
I was hoping we can see the deer up close. Is there a hide?
Aye, thousands. Uh... Let's try that one over there.
-Here? -Oh, no, up there.
-Up the tree? -Oh, yeah.
It's the best place to see and not be seen, I've found.
Calum...
I'm not very good at climbing trees.
Now's your chance to get some practise, dearie.
Could you go a wee bit higher, please?
(GRUNTS)
Hoist yourself up over the branch.
-(STRAINING) -Careful! Try and get your legs...
Aye, that's right. Well done.
-Bye-bye just now. -Where are you going?
I left my binoculars with the bike.
You sit still and watch. There'll be a deer along in a minute.
Hurry back, Buchanan!
So he's gonna have Gyp put down I suppose, is he?
Wilkin isn't the kind of man to hesitate in a matter like this.
Ruthless culling of any animal that doesn't come up to scratch
is an article of his faith.
It's more to do with false pride in humans than defective animals, Siegfried.
These owners, they cling to this tough image,
terrified that any emotional attachment will be seen as a weakness.
You think Seb Wilkin falls into that category?
There's no medical reason why that dog should be put down.
It's to salve his own hurt pride, that's all.
However, only he can make the decision.
And while we're one to try to influence his decision,
it might have quite the opposite effect.
It's a dog's fate, Siegfried!
They offer us their loyalty, their trust.
They've even been known to lay down their lives for their masters, and for what?
What's wrong, James?
Seb Wilkin, Siegfried, that's what's wrong!
No, no, no, no, no... Not that.
Well, if you must know, it's Mollie Minikin's old mongrel.
Mollie Minikin's old mongrel... The last call, huh?
It's ironic, isn't it?
On the one hand, we have Seb Wilkin,
hale and hearty, playing God with some healthy animal.
And on the other hand, we have this frail old lady with her one companion.
I'd have given anything to have extended Robbie's life, kept him going till she dies.
Good afternoon, young man.
Enjoying the deer, I see.
Oh, they're wonderful creatures, so lithe!
Have you come to watch them, too?
Well, in parts, I suppose.
Only in part? I could watch them for hours.
-Could you, now? -Oh, yes.
Well, I happen to know of a decent hide, if you're interested.
Interested? Lead the way!
Well, you certainly seem to know your way about the forest.
Ah, well, you see, I own it.
Come in, old fellow, take the weight off.
Now, tell me about yourself.
-What do you do? -Do? Oh, I'm a vet.
A vet? Good Lord, you don't look like one!
(CHUCKLES) No, I don't suppose I do.
-So where do you practise? -Um, Darrowby.
Ah, you're with Farnon, are you? Good man, that.
My father always used Mottram for the small animal stuff and I've just followed suit.
I suppose you wouldn't be interested in a business proposition?
Hmm?
Well, I really need a chap to keep an eye on my deer.
Could you persuade Farnon to let me retain the practice as consultants?
Just let me try! But, uh, he'll need to know your name.
Mannerton, Duke of. Well, that's settled.
How about a whisky?
(SHRIEKS)
(GROANS)
Calum Buchanan...
Come on, old fellow! Can't let the side down.
Oh!
Thank you, um... Your Grace.
None of that nonsense! George.
See that doe on the right? Her mother was a marvellous animal.
-Fleet as the wind. -Hmm.
Oh, no! Um...
Excuse me, Your Gr... Um, George.
I've, uh, forgotten something.
Deirdre!
(LAUGHING)
-SIEGFRIED: Seb. -Mr Farnon.
Well, Seb, what have you decided?
-Brought them tablets, did you? -Indeed.
I'll have 'em, then.
The instructions are on the packet.
Reckon I've gone soft?
-That's a leading question, Seb. -Well, I haven't.
Just haven't made my mind up about the dog, that's all.
I mean, he's not to blame for what's happened.
Always did what I asked of him. Aye.
-Would still if I let him. -Yes.
Well... I reckon owe him something for that.
Besides...
He's young, so it'll do no harm to have him about the place for a while.
At least till he's ruddy well learned to bark!
James!
-She was on the doorstep. -Thank heavens! She looks half drowned.
She's very ill, Helen. Cat flu I think.
-I'll take her to surgery. -What about the mother?
No sign of her. I did have a look 'round.
It's cat flu, all right. Not a stinker of a doubt.
Lucky for her she turned up here when she did.
-I wonder why she did? -It's a houseful of vets!
Where else would she go if she was ill?
-Still no sign of her mother. -No, well, the same bug probably killed her.
Or something else. The mortality rate in strays is very high, you know.
At least Ginny's safe.
-Ginny? -Because of her ginger colouring.
Oh, please make her live. I intend to keep her.
Come on...
(THUNDER CRASHES)
HELEN: There. There we are. Yes.
Come on, back to your basket.
There's a good cat. There you are.
There, there.
SIEGFRIED: Dramatic stuff, James!
Stuck out on a hill with a calf laid wrong and the heavens rending above
and the final insult,
having physically suffered the elements and enduring that awful racket,
when I finally got to my bed I didn't get a wink of sleep.
-You should try my recipe for sleepless nights. -What's that?
-(PHONE RINGING) -The Brothers Karamazov.
Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov was the third son of Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov.
By the time I get to Grigory Katuzov, Yefim Petrovitch Polonov,
Stepanida Bedriogina, I'm off to the races.
Oh! You use a book, too. I do.
Kramer's Physiology of the Eye,
an unsurpassed soporific.
"The muscle is inserted into the body,
"and by its contraction moves the body forwards
"and so slackens the tension of the suspensory ligament and so..."
(GREETING IN GERMAN)
Has that damn boy arrived yet?
Yes, in the kitchen having breakfast.
Right.
What was all that about?
-Literary sleeping pills. -Oh.
I'm sorry to spoil your fun, but that was Mr Biggins.
Another of his cows has died.
-It was struck by lightning last night. -What?
He wants you to clear it for his insurance claim.
Thanks very much.
There's something wrong, isn't there?
I'm afraid there is.
I had old Zeb Beasley, complaining to me last night,
he said he found you the other night and you refused to come out to his cow. Is that right?
She only had a wee touch of mastitis.
He's a valued client, Calum,
and an exceedingly nice old boy. Not the sort of client we want to lose.
There was a slight thickening of the milk, Siegfried.
He'd been dosing the cow with some homemade remedy. The cow was eating fine.
And that made you think it all right to leave it to the next day, hmm?
But we agreed, did we not, in non-urgent cases...
Calum, there is one fundamental rule in our job which transcends all others.
You must attend!
That's not quite what you said...
As I have told our colleagues, so I tell you. You must attend!
Burn it into your soul as if it's a fire. You must attend!
Now, what is it?
You must attend...
Exactly! The client is in no position to judge whether his animal is sick or not!
Even if you don't think it urgent, the animal may
take a turn for the worse, and possibly even die. Not what our clients expect.
I seem to recall you saying,
"There's nothing like a dead animal to bring them to their senses."
My dear boy!
What I say now, what I've always said, is that you must attend!
Hmm?
Perhaps
if you were to spend more time concentrating on our clients
and a little less mooning around on Sennor with Deirdre and the deer...
Ah, thank you for my cup of tea. I know I shan't have to mention it again.
No, Siegfried.
Talking of Sennor, I bumped into the Duke of Mannerton yesterday.
What? The Duke?
Good heavens! I haven't seen him for ages.
He... He uses Mottram's practice, doesn't he?
Yes, but only for small animals.
Henceforth, we are retained to provide veterinary care for the Sennor herd
and he's asked me to call him George.
(CALUM HUMS SCOTLAND THE BRAVE)
Hello, Winston.
Biggins must be moving fast if he's got you here, too.
Aye, damn quick.
Never seen a better touch of lightning neither.
Absolutely. A classical struck-by-lightning death.
Hardly worth doing a post-mortem.
-You sure about that, are you? -It looks straightforward.
-So you'll signing insurance forms for Biggins, then? -Well, it looks in order.
I should try the ear, Veterinary.
Well, I can't see anything except this candle grease and...
-Oh, my God. -Aye.
Saw you comin', all right.
Got my piece of paper, then, Veterinary?
Yes. A beautiful job.
-What's that all about? -Your little dodge.
It must have taken hours to get it right.
I don't know what you mean, Veterinary.
You do know that it's an offence to falsify insurance claims.
That cow died in the storm, Veterinary!
But the storm didn't cause the scorch marks, did it? You did, Mr Biggins.
God, the hours you must have spent burning those lightning marks on that cow!
Pity about the candle grease.
I tell thee, it died in storm!
But it wasn't struck by lightning, was it?
What difference? It were dead, weren't it?
Mr Biggins, your cow could have died from a heart attack brought on by the storm.
In fact, it could have died from any number of natural causes.
Trouble is, natural causes aren't covered by the insurance policy, are they?
Bye, Mr Biggins.
-James! -JAMES: Coming.
They're so fresh, they think they're still in the ground.
HELEN: James!
-There she is! -Oh, James.
Ginny! Ginny!
(BOTH CALLING CAT)
Are you sure you searched the outhouses thoroughly?
Yes, top to bottom. I've been all over the field. She's vanished.
Just when I thought she was settled.
What's the matter with that animal?
Why can't she stay here where she knows she'll be cared for?
-Well, maybe she'll make her own way back. -If she doesn't die.
If she chooses to return.
She's wild. One night isn't going to make any difference.
Oh, I want her back, James.
Helen, she's a wild cat.
What you've done for her is very special.
Isn't that enough?
Hello, Tris. Weren't expecting you today.
Oh, places to go, people to meet. Just passing through, as a matter of fact.
In precisely half an hour, I'll be lunching with Mrs Derrick!
-To offer up more of your expert advice, no doubt. -But of course.
Hit it off, have you, Tris?
-We do have rather a lot in common, actually. -Uh-huh.
-Goats. -Toggenburgs, to be strictly accurate.
She's a very delightful and charming woman, your Mrs Derrick.
Utterly!
It's odd, James, isn't it, the attraction of opposites in people.
-Mmm. -Not so, Siegfried.
No, we're matching in age, similar temperament.
And after all, she is married to a much older gentleman.
What is he talking about?
The retired Mr Derrick, who now devotes himself to growing specimen tomatoes.
-Tris... -Not so, Tristan.
Oh, he's an elderly, gentleman, retired. She told me so herself.
Tristan, Mr Derrik is retired, but he's the same age as you!
Don't you know who he is?
-Should I? -He's Bob Derrick, you idiot!
Known as the Widness Whirlwind
before he retired from the boxing ring.
But don't let that spoil your luncheon, my dear brother.
(KNOCK AT DOOR)
Come in, Tristan...
-Hello, Jean. Are you... -Tristan Farnon?
-My husband, Bob Derrick. -How... How do you do?
I'll be wanting a word with you.
-Well... -(DOOR CLOSES)
About goats.
(SOBS)
There, now, Jean, No need for all that. It's not your fault, love.
It's others taking advantage who I blame.
Look, have I come at an awkward time?
You'll come with me. You're responsible!
-You will bloody well see it! -May I ask what's wrong, Mr Derrick?
"Lovely goat, Mrs Derrick. No trouble. Easy to keep.
"Plenty of room in the garden.
"Won't even know she's out there. Yak, yak, yak."
-Full of rubbish, that's you. -Now look here, Mr Derrick...
You didn't think about me, did you, Farnon?
I'm the mug who's to live with your ideas!
You try stinking milk poisoning your tea!
Goat's cheese...
Cheese that smells like the alley in the back of a boozer on a Saturday night.
Goat products are really awfully good for you...
-Then there's my tomatoes! -Yes, Mrs Derrick did mentioned them...
They're not just any tomatoes, Farnon.
Competition specimens, just come into full bloom for the big show next month!
You want to see how they look now? Be my guest!
She got loose, didn't she? Had to wander up the garden in here.
Wouldn't happen in a million years, you said! But it did!
Ah.
Gilda got in among your tomatoes?
"In among them"? "In among them"? The mangy beast ate the lot!
123 specimen tomatoes, stalks an' all!
Right, up you go, then.
You are joking!
Listen, Deirdre...
One of the many advantages I secured during my
little business meeting with His Grace the other day
was the use of his hide whenever I wanted.
Would you like to watch the deer in comfort?
(WHISTLING COMMANDS)
-Hello, George. -Look, Dad, it's Gyp.
Hello, Seb.
Mr Herriot, Mrs Herriot.
-Is he still sick? -He's all right, lad.
Can he bark yet, Mr Wilkin?
(CHUCKLING) No, lass, not yet.
-Look, Dad! -What?
-It's Sweep! -SEB: Aye, lad.
That's Jim Crossley running my Sweep out there.
Come on.
-HELEN: He's brilliant, Seb. -Yes.
Not bad.
-Does Gyp know it's him? -Not yet, I reckon.
Come on.
-Now then, Veterinary. -Have a good run, Fred?
-I'll give you a good run in a minute. -(CHUCKLES)
-Sheep playing up a bit? -Aye. Flighty beggars and all.
-But it were a decent run. -Ah, good.
What about that dog of Seb Wilkin, the one that went bad?
A great pity. He showed promise.
I told him he ought to have kept Sweep, not the other one.
-He's running today, isn't he? -Aye, that's him up there.
SIEGFRIED: Good Lord. So it is.
I can never understand the likes of Seb Wilkin meself, hanging on to that Gyp.
I think he's gone soft on the old dog.
There's no harm in that, Fred.
Good to see you, Seb.
What's that old tittle-tattle been going on about?
Oh, Fred? Nothing in particular.
Don't worry. I know some of them go on about me keeping Gyp.
It's not unkindly meant.
They can keep on talking.
They'll have something to think about when they see my new dogs.
-New dogs? -Two, like before,
and both with all their woofs!
And what about Gyp?
You learn a lot about yourself from animals.
At first I kept Gyp in the first place 'cause I thought he were the best.
But since he got sick, I keep him 'cause I like him, plain and simple.
An' I don't give a bugger who knows it!
(APPLAUSE)
Look out now! He's seen Sweep!
-I believe he has! -Lie down, Gyp!
-(TENTATIVE BARK) -Bloody hell...
(STRONGER BARK)
All right, go on, then!
He barked, Mr Wilkin! He barked!
Aye, lad.
And about time, too.
I don't believe it!
Oh! No, wait here. Ginny...
Ginny, come on.
Right, inside.
Go on then. Play hard to get. See if I care.
You can go or stay or take a running jump at yourself, you silly little cat!
-What are you laughing at? -Nothing. Nothing!
-Come on. -If she thinks I'm gonna worry myself sick...