Pets in Prospect - Malcolm D. Welshman [93]
‘They both hurt,’ said Miss Millichip, edging round the table to clamp the dog’s head firmly to her bosom. ‘Now hold still, Gemima, while the vet pokes his newfangled contraption down your ear.’
‘It’s called an “auriscope’‘,’ I informed her.
‘Well, whatever. Just see how bad the canker is.’
I switched on the instrument so that the bulb illuminated the cone, gently lifted the flap of Gemima’s ear and eased the tip of the cone in. I peered down. Nothing. I eased the cone up a little and slid it back in. Still nothing – a blank wall. Literally that; a solid wall of white.
‘Your gadget playing up then?’ queried Miss Millichip.
‘Well … I’m not sure …’ I eased the auriscope out. The tip of the cone was caked in a clump of wet, chalky material. No wonder I couldn’t see down it. ‘What’s this?’ I waved the cone at Miss Millichip.
‘Your horiscope or whatever you call it.’
‘No … the muck on the end of it.’
‘Bit of my canker treatment by the looks of it,’ she said peering at the end of the cone as I pushed it under her nose. ‘Boracic acid powder, twice daily. As recommended in my dictionary for the treatment of mites.’
I winced, resisting the urge to shove the cone up her nose. Now, now, Paul … that’s not professional. Keep cool. ‘But it hasn’t worked, has it?’
‘My dictionary says it should.’
I fought to keep my voice from rising. ‘But it hasn’t, has it?’
‘Well … the dogs do seem a bit quieter since I started the treatment. So maybe it’s had some effect.’
Quieter, eh? I thought. Probably because they couldn’t hear themselves bark with all that stuff rammed in their ears. But it wouldn’t have killed off the ear mites if they were present unless the sheer volume of powder Miss Millichip had been pouring in had suffocated them. ‘Look, first we need to syringe Gemima’s ears out. The same applies to your other dogs.’
‘I’ll get some soapy water with a pinch of washing soda in it.’
‘Er … I don’t think that’s wise. Soapy water on red raw ear canals …’ I shook my head. ‘Gemima would hit the roof.’
‘But my dictionary says …’
I interrupted. ‘Forget your dictionary. There’s a new preparation I use to clean out the ear canals so that the mites can then treated.’
Miss Millichip glanced up at the dictionary on her bookshelf.
‘No, you won’t find it in there,’ I added firmly. ‘But it does work – honest. Let me show you.’
Ten minutes later, I’d excavated all the compressed powder that had been shovelled down Gemima’s ear canals. Another check with the auriscope revealed a thriving colony of mites. ‘Now use this,’ I said, handing over a small plastic bottle of anti-parasitic solution. ‘A good squirt down each ear and massage well in.’
Miss Millichip peered dubiously at the bottle – it looked lost in her massive hand. ‘This won’t go far. Most of my dogs and half the cats are scratching or shaking their heads. My dictionary says I should treat the lot.’
For once, I agreed with her dictionary. A litre of mange dressing was ordered from the local wholesalers. Miss Millichip looked it up in her dictionary. Yes – the dressing was mentioned, so she was happy to use it.
A week later, she was on the phone again. Beryl waved me over. ‘It’s Mildred Millichip,’ she whispered loudly. ‘She wants another visit.’
‘Well, Crystal’s around, she can go. After all, that’s who she wanted in the first place.’
‘Not any more. She wants you. Seems she was impressed by your “horiscope’‘.’ Beryl pulled a ‘what-on-earth-doesshe-mean?’ face. But she booked the visit when I nodded. As I explained to her later, no, Miss Millichip hadn’t read my palm, got the Tarot cards out or gazed into a crystal ball. But I wish she had, then I might have been prepared for what was to come.
I’d rung the bell on the front door of the bungalow several times. I could hear it buzzing away deep inside, but no one came. I guessed Miss Millichip was probably round the back somewhere – that somewhere being the maze of outbuildings that stretched