The unusual things that dogs swallow and us vets have to remove - Julian Norton

However, more than one set of eyes and a second opinion is always useful, even if those eyes have been degraded with age.

“What do you think it is?” I asked Mark. He shrugged, but acknowledged that he could definitely feel something round and hard inside the Labrador’s abdomen which was surely the cause of its acute vomiting.

Earlier, there had been a very helpful consultation. Taking a detailed history is always important, especially for vomiting dogs.

“Has he eaten anything that could have got stuck?” is the first question when a vet examines a vomiting patient.

If the answer is, “Definitely not, he’s never let off the lead,” we can breathe a sigh of relief that an obstructive foreign body is highly unlikely.

If the answer is, “Well, he was rummaging in the bin after the barbeque last weekend,” we start to think about the possibility of a pesky corn-on-the-cob.

In this case, the affirmation came, “Oh, yes. He’s always eating the kids’ toys. Last week we even pulled a sock out of his bum!”

So, putting together the vomiting, a round, hard thing palpable in the middle of this dog’s abdomen and a bad habit of swallowing things that were not food, the likelihood that surgical intervention might be needed seemed strong.

But the X-ray image was strange. The round structure appeared to have three or four circular hollow areas. I left Mark to do the honours with his exploratory surgery as I headed back to continue afternoon surgery.

Half an hour later, I popped my head back into theatre. We all like to do this when something exciting is happening. It’s especially the case when there is a caesarean. Everyone from receptionists to cleaners to senior partners appear to see the outcome and lend a hand with a newly delivered puppy. Today, there were no puppies arriving, but I was curious to find out the nature of the foreign body.

“It’s in that bag,” said Mark, gesturing to the side. It’s the hallmark of an experienced veterinary team when the offending item is quickly removed, washed and bagged up like a forensic sample. If nothing else, it keeps the smell sealed in.

“It’s a rabbit’s head,” someone explained. I had visions of the whole rat that had emerged from the Border Terrier’s stomach a few weeks ago at Thirsk.

But this was altogether different. It was a plastic toy, remarkably similar to the rabbit from the 1970s children’s book about a rabbit called “Miffy”.

My favourite was one called Miffy at the Seaside, with a famous line which went “‘I can see the sea,’ cried Miffy, soon.”

It was a much-quoted line by everyone in the Norton family when I was about five, on trips to Bridlington or Ulrome on Yorkshire’s east coast.

Miffy’s head was clearly the cause of this dog’s obstruction. It prompted discussion in theatre about other interesting foreign objects removed from intestines.

The best story was of a pair of lacy lady’s pants removed from a Labrador.

As the recovering dog was reunited with the relieved husband and wife owners, I handed back the offending lingerie sealed hermetically in a plastic bag (I don’t know why I did this and to this day I wish I hadn’t).

As the husband fussed the sorrowful dog, his wife suddenly exclaimed, “These are not my pants!”

The three of them rushed out, without another word. I never did find out what happened next.