Although I and many of my father’s close friends have always regarded his earliest books as our favourites, this one contains some wonderful material, and like the others, brings to life a whole host of new and fascinating characters.
In chapter 15, he describes his treatment of a dog with demodectic mange, belonging to Sister Rose. This character was based upon a woman called Sister Ann Lilley, from the Friarage Hospital in nearby Northallerton. She was closely involved with my father’s favourite animal charity, the Jerry Green Foundation Trust, and she ran several small dog sanctuaries of her own. She is someone for whom Alf had great respect. It is a sad story ending in the death of Amber, a beautiful golden retriever, to whom, in real life, my father had become very attached. The Lord God Made Them Allis another book that illustrates not only the triumphs but also the heartbreaks that punctuate the life of every veterinary surgeon.
The period in which the book was set had moved on, and now included stories about Rosie and me – who were both given our real names. Extracts from James Herriot’s books were reproduced in countless periodicals and magazines, primarily in Britain and America, and there was one chapter in The Lord God Made Them Allwhich proved to be the most popular of all.
The story tells of James Herriot’s attendance at a concert at which his young son was performing. I was about eight years old when the concert, organised by my piano teacher Miss Stanley, took place in the Sowerby Methodist Chapel. The concert was a succession of recitals by her young pupils and they all performed admirably – all except me. I made two disastrous attempts at a little piece called ‘The Miller’s Dance’ before, to wild and relieved applause from the assembled parents, I finally succeeded at the third try. The effect on my father’s nervous system was devastating.
The hilarious description in the book is one that I have read many times, and I can understand why it is so popular; the tension of watching one’s offspring performing in public is something with which many a parent must identify. James Herriot’s harrowing experience of witnessing his child transforming a nice little concert into a farce is one that many must dread.
Years later, when my father was asking me if I remembered the incident, and I replied that I didn’t think I had ever been so frightened, he replied, ‘Well, it might have frightened you, but it very nearly killed me!’
I had always felt a little guilty about my reluctance to practise the piano, and thus waste the cost of the lessons, but at least it provided my father with material for a chapter that became one of the most popular he ever wrote.
On reading his manuscript prior to publication, I found as usual the humorous stories the most enjoyable, especially his account of saving his own life in the face of an enraged bull by smashing the creature repeatedly over the nose with an artificial vagina – but there is, of course, far more to his writing than this. The Lord God Made Them Allis a book that, once again, illustrates James Herriot’s understanding of human nature – it is a book not just about animals and veterinary surgeons, but about the everyday emotions that everyone experiences.
The spectacular triumph of James Herriot’s Yorkshirehad not gone unnoticed by the Reader’s Digest Association. Having published much of James Herriot’s work in their condensed books on both sides of the Atlantic – and sold millions of copies – they approached Michael Joseph with the idea of producing an illustrated volume of selected stories from the James Herriot books. Alan Brooke, Michael Joseph’s editorial director, together with Alf’s editor, Jenny Dereham – who had succeeded Anthea Joseph following her tragic death from cancer early in 1981 – came up to Yorkshire with representatives of the Reader’s Digest, to talk my father into the idea of the book. He was soon won over. This book, published in 1982, was called The Best of James Herriot.
Apart from the introduction, Alf had comparatively little original work to do for this book. It was a compendium of his stories, and Alf had final approval of the content. Interspersed amongst the stories were sections which covered different subjects connected with Alf, Yorkshire and the veterinary profession. These sections were superbly illustrated with a mixture of historical photographs of the places about which he wrote, new colour photographs of the incomparable Yorkshire landscape, and a multitude of line drawings. Readers interested in a post-war cow-drencher, a Swaledale sheep, or the intricacies of a dry-stone wall would find it all in this book.
Alf always regarded this as a wonderful book, beautifully produced, and a treasure trove of information for every James Herriot fan. ‘Just look at this book!’ he said shortly after he received his first copy. ‘This will make a terrific gift. I’m sure it will sell well!’
I refrained from giving my opinion this time. He was right; it was another best-seller – one with which my father was particularly proud to be associated.
The final years of the 1970s and the earliest ones of the 1980s marked the zenith of the James Herriot success story. They were golden years during which everything he did resulted in astounding success. He had written eight worldwide best-selling books, the television series had projected his name into the living-rooms of millions of households and he had, by that time, attained complete financial security. For a man who had started with virtually nothing, it was a staggering achievement.
However, with the welfare of his family and friends meaning a great deal more to him than material success, inevitably there were one or two unhappy events, the effects of which would, for a time, outweigh his feelings of intense satisfaction over his literary achievements.
As a true animal lover, the death of his noisy but lovable little dog, Hector, was a shattering experience. At the age of fourteen, Hector was having difficulty eating. Suspecting a cancerous condition of the oesophagus, Alf took him to Denton Pette for a second opinion, where his worst fears were realised. Denton had no alternative but to say it would be kindest to put him to sleep. Alf, totally desolated, staggered from Denton’s surgery before climbing into his car for the long, quiet journey home. Denton, observing his friend’s obvious distress, suggested that Hector be buried in his own garden – an offer to which the distraught Alf readily agreed. The little dog, to this day, lies in Eve Pette’s garden in the village of Aldborough St John.
One of the most difficult tasks confronting the veterinary surgeon is that of having to end the life of a dearly loved pet; it can be a traumatic experience for both owner and veterinary surgeon. This was the first time that Alf had had to make the decision to end the life of one of his own animals; having found himself in the unenviable position of so many of his clients for whom he had had to perform this delicate service, it gave him an even greater understanding of their feelings.
Hector’s death was one of the most emotionally draining experiences of Alf’s life, but the passing of his little companion did not mean that he was without a dog; he had Dan, a black Labrador, who was originally my dog. In 1967, when I returned to work in Thirsk from my first job in Staffordshire, I brought Dan with me, and he and Hector took to one another straightaway. They soon became inseparable, riding everywhere together in my father’s car.
Like Hector, Dan became a much-photographed member of the canine race. He appeared in many magazines and newspapers when the name of James Herriot was becoming well known, and is the dog staring up expectantly at Alf on the cover of James Herriot’s Yorkshire. This was a typical pose for Dan; his whole life was one of chasing or carrying sticks and the photograph on the cover shows him staring intently at one held in Alf’s hand. His car was constantly littered with an assortment of Dan’s sticks and the big, black dog covered endless miles alongside Alf, always with a stick in his mouth.