Pets in a Pickle
Authors: Malcolm D Welshman
‘It’s fun and should bring a smile to your face.’
Sir Terry Wogan
‘Your story is a corker.’
Richard Madeley
‘If you enjoyed James Herriot, you will enjoy Malcolm Welshman’s rollicking story of eccentric animals and even more eccentric humans.’
Celia Haddon, author and former
Daily Telegraph
columnist
‘If you have a pet you love, then you will love
Pets in a Pickle
. These hilarious stories are straight from a vet’s pen and will keep you chuckling.’
Stella Whitelaw, writer, journalist, lover of cats,
with over 30 novels published
‘I loved this book although I’ll never be able to look at my vet in the same way again. Whether or not you’re mad about animals, there are laughs aplenty here.’
Denise Robertson, Agony Aunt, ITV’s
This Morning.
‘It’s a lighthearted “if you like animals, you’ll like this, especially the two-footed variety’‘ pageturner.’
Anna Raeburn, LBC Radio’s ‘Book of the Week’.
‘This book is a modern James Herriot tale set in the rolling hills of Sussex…bursting with good humour, intelligence and information. It brims with the same cleverly drawn characters that collect in my own vet’s practice … how I empathise with Paul Mitchell, the new graduate employed by the vintage owner, Dr Crystal Sharpe. Malcolm’s writing is stylish, moving, original, beautifully crafted with real characters, believable situations and observant dialogue that always rings true. A “must read’‘ for vet students and pet lovers. They will adore the funny episodes that beset this naive vet at Prospect House.’
Barbara Large MBE FRSA HFUW,
Founder Director Winchester Writers’ Conference.
ONTENTS
7 T
ODAY’S
S
PECIALS
: H
OT
D
OG AND
F
ILLET OF
F
ISH
OREWORD
BY
J
IM
W
IGHT
,
SON OF
J
AMES
H
ERRIOT
AND AUTHOR OF
T
HE
R
EAL
J
AMES
H
ERRIOT
J
ames Herriot became, through his writing, the most famous veterinarian in the world. Two things, to me, stand out as integral to his worldwide success as an author: his books are not just about vets treating animals, they are about people, and he writes about others, not just himself.
Malcolm Welshman’s book,
Pets in a Pickle
, is, too, not just a collection of animals stories. The author paints a vivid picture of many fascinating characters – human and animal – resulting in a most enjoyable and amusing read. The veterinary profession is one enriched by the most interesting and challenging situations, wherein the veterinary surgeon is confronted by a variety of unforgettable characters. Malcolm Welshman’s experiences as a young veterinary surgeon, recounted in a most readable way, illustrate this very well.
It is often said that vets have little interest in books or TV programmes about other members of their profession. It is regarded as ‘old hat’, revealing nothing new. I did not find this to be the case with this book. The author describes his early life in practice in a most entertaining way. The book is extremely easy to read and the text gives the reader a most enjoyable insight into the unpredictable but fascinating life of the veterinary surgeon.
I wish this book every success.
ET IN
P
ROSPECT
I
’d been whistling a tune from
The Sound of Music
when I left Prospect House the previous week: ‘
Odl lay ee … Odl lay hee hee …
’
How foolish. How naïve of me. What a silly little goatherd.
Now here I was, the following Monday morning, with the waiting room (not the hills) alive with the sound of … dogs snuffling and whining, cats miaowing and yowling and several budgerigars chirruping and screeching. Hardly Julie Andrews with her von Trapp family. But then I was hardly Julie Andrews, even though I had a gold stud in each ear lobe, hair – brown, not fair – down to my collar, and a voice which would rise an octave or two when provoked.
No – I was a vet, a new graduate. And this was my first day in practice. To think I was about to unleash myself on someone’s unsuspecting pet. Quite sickening really – well, for the pet anyway. If he wasn’t already ill he soon would be if he knew this novice vet was about to prod and poke him. ‘Now, my lad, get a grip,’ I said to myself. ‘You’ve spent five years getting qualified for this moment. Now go for it. Show them what you’re made of.’
So I got a grip. Only the door knob in my hand at that precise moment failed to turn as my palm was too sweaty. I gripped harder, turned it and pushed at the waiting room door; it gave way and I tumbled into the room like a startled stoat. There was an immediate hush.
An aged spaniel gave me a rheumy-eyed stare. A chihuahua disgorged a lump of yellow froth on to its owner’s shoe. Two cats bared their teeth in silent hisses. Then the chihuahua, his throat unblocked, broke the silence with a barrage of staccato yaps. Taking this as his cue to join in, the elderly spaniel lifted his head and started howling at the fluorescent light above him; he was accompanied by a chorus of cats whose plaintive wails rolled round the room like a Mexican wave.
My feeble ‘Mr Kingston?’ was drowned on its first syllable.
