The Yorkshire Vet: The terrier that proved a little terror - Julian Norton

Finley’s owners were worried that they had spotted some blood coming from his back foot, which meant I’d need to examine him closely to find out the problem. Not many terriers enjoy having their feet fiddled with.

Furiously bad-tempered dogs can pose challenges to everyone who works with them. Nowadays, we have a cornucopia of drugs which can reduce anxiety and induce a relaxed feeling of sedation prior to a vet visit, which can be hugely helpful. It makes the visit safer and can eventually reduce the worry of a vet trip, making future appointments much easier. And some practices offer sessions with a behavioural nurse which, over time, can calm even the most anxious of pets. But none of this had worked with Finley. His owners and everyone else had concluded that the only way was a secure muzzle and a quick examination.

The feisty terrier started growling as soon as I opened the consulting room door, despite having a vaguely wagging tail. The low-pitched rumble got louder as my examination progressed, reaching a crescendo when I touched the injured foot. I was lucky. The source of the blood was easy to find and required very little treatment. He’d simply scuffed one of the nails a little bit too short and exposed a small blood vessel near the quick of his nail. Nail injuries are common in terriers because they tend to charge around at high speed, often scrabbling in holes to dig for rabbits. Everyone was relieved nothing serious needed doing- fortunately I didn’t need to give any sedative injections to examine him more closely. We lifted him down, after which we could remove the muzzle. His tail immediately started wagging again. With Finley safely off the table and back on the floor, conversation turned to the behavioural idiosyncrasies of the breed.

“Oh, they are lovely dogs,” effused Finley’s owner, “so loyal, so friendly and full of energy, but my word you don’t mess with them.” I nodded. He continued to relay one story from the past about the vicar in the local church who once was chased out of his churchyard by a Patterdale terrier. The vicar wasn’t fast enough, and the terrier jumped, sank his teeth into the rector’s rear and tore off a large patch in the back of his trousers! The story telling didn’t go so far as to explain the reason for the chasing- I’m sure the terrier had his reasons- nor the extent of the damage or whether the vicar’s rear recovered. In those days, bad tempered terriers were given a wide berth. On Sunday afternoons, when my Grandparents’ Jack Russells chewed happily on a juicy bone in the garden after dinner, everyone knew not to go near them. I can still remember the same, low-pitched grumbling when I did once try.