I Need Some Yorkshire Pudding Now
It must be nice to live near this veterinarian as wellAs to have known James Harriet who was once this author’s boss. I have read all of James Harriet’s books and loved them dearly. I would have loved to be able to say that I loved this book as well, but it is more of a memoir, just as it says, and as a memoir it is filled with too much sadness at times.
The camera was on Peter. He had just performed a castration on a dog and was now holding up the dog’s. testicles. This was of no interest to me, as I saw myself back in high school when I thought that I wanted to become a veterinarian. I would go to vet school in Davis, CA, and I moved to Davis right after high school, but not to go to college. I saw the beagles in cages with radiation warnings on their pens at the vet school. I was just roaming around. Sickening. Anyway, I had mentioned my desire to become a vet to the new female veterinarian in town, and had asked her if I could come and watch her do her work so I would know if I really wanted to become a veterinarian. She was doing a castration that day on a black lab. I stood and watched, thought it somewhat interesting but not so much, for I never returned. It was just not something that I wanted to do. I did the same with a medical lab in town. That kind of job seemed interesting too. I didn’t last out the week. Altering animals is one of the most frequent jobs that a veterinarian does. Being a lab tech has the big job of watching vials spin in a little container or looking down at a microscope. I got married instead. As for this first marriage, I should have become a teacher instead.
What interested me in this book was the kindness and compassion, as well as the sympathy that Peter had shown throughout this book. He was raised on a farm and cared for his family’s chickens, even named them all. One day he went out to feed them, and they were all dead. A fox had come in the night and had slaughtered them all, leaving most for a later date. He never took care of chickens again. Just didn’t have the stomach or the heart for it.
As a child I named our rooster “Pecky, “and one day at the dinner table, I was told that the cooked chicken on the table was Pecky. I was upset and wouldn’t eat him. I didn’t think that hens were ever eaten because they laid eggs for us, so I named one “Henrietta.” Then one day when I sat down at the table to eat, I was told that the chicken on the table was her. I never named another chicken.
While I found too much sadness in his book like the lecture on suicide and the sad story of a friend’s suicide, then his wife’s cancer, even though she recovered, I liked him and his writing. I know if he ever writes a book like James Harrie’s, I will never read it because I have lost too many pets, some recently. And I can no longer read about cruelty to animals by their owners or in labs. I know what they do, what people do to their animals, and I don’t need to hear any more. I even heard too much when volunteering for the Humane Society.