Dougie’s reputation for being difficult to handle preceded him. As soon as I set eyes on this handsome Amazonian Green Parrot, I knew that trying to do anything with him would pose a somewhat frightening challenge.
I hadn’t met Dougie or his doting owner Margaret before. However, I had come across Margaret’s ex-husband John several times, with his brilliant little terrier, whose name was Ozzy. John had rescued Ozzy when he was about eight months old. He was a leggy Jack Russell terrier with a rough, wiry coat and was just my kind of dog. Some terriers like to try to show the vet ‘who’s the boss’, and an examination can be a confrontational affair, but there was none of this with Ozzy. He would stand confidently on my consulting room table, wagging his tail, quietly letting me examine him all over and give him his injections without a hint of concern. I congratulated John on giving a home to such a wonderful little dog.
‘You’ve got a grand one there, Mr Hullah,’ I commented, although it was clear that any such words were unnecessary. John knew this already.
‘Yes, he’s a beauty, isn’t he?’
Ozzy was a picture of canine health, and rarely needed my veterinary skills, but I looked forward to seeing him once a year for his annual vaccinations. When our patients have significant illnesses or they need regular attention at our clinic, for example after an accident or a big operation, we get to know their owners very well and often become great friends. But although my appointments with Ozzy were infrequent, I felt I had a rapport with John and his dog, as John always made his appointment specifically to see me. Since Ozzy never needed much in the way of veterinary attention, our ten-minute appointment slot was mostly filled with chat. On the occasion of our latest meeting, Ozzy was just as healthy as ever. The only difference I noticed was that John’s address had changed. He had moved house to Northallerton, a bustling metropolis compared to the village that was their previous home.
‘I see you’ve moved house, John. What’s it like living in a big city?’ I joked.
‘Well, it’s okay. I miss my little village, but we had to move. You see, my wife and I have got divorced,’ he explained.
This seemed a strange thing to have done at John’s time of life. He was surely in his seventies and it seemed an odd time to end a lifelong partnership. John must have sensed my surprise.
‘We didn’t fall out or anything and we’re still good friends – we meet for coffee and lunch twice a week. It’s just that we didn’t really want to carry on living in the same house. It’s fine. Ozzy and I have moved to Northallerton and Margaret, well, she’s got Dougie for company. To tell you the truth, she thinks more about that blooming parrot than she ever did about me!’
My ears pricked up. We were in the middle of filming for series three of The Yorkshire Vet and I had come to realize that any animals that strayed away from the norm were a hit with the cameras. A bright green parrot with a doting owner had the makings of a good story.
‘Wow! That sounds interesting!’ I probed, trying not to be too insensitive to John’s marital situation. ‘What did Ozzy make of the parrot?’
‘Not a lot!’ replied John, rolling his eyes. ‘The dog and the parrot never got on. That was one of the reasons why we split up.’
It sounded as if the bonds between the humans and their animals in this household were stronger than those between husband and wife. This is not as uncommon as you might imagine – I have heard many stories of a husband being relegated to the sofa so that the dog can sleep on the bed, and in some extreme cases, the dog being so protective of one or other spouse that husband and wife cannot have any physical contact at all.
‘And what about Dougie?’ I continued. ‘Is he okay? If ever he needs anything doing, let me know. I’m not a parrot specialist, but I’d be happy to help.’
I was not sure what I was letting myself in for, but it was all in a good cause.
‘Well, it’s funny you should say that. His claws and beak are very long and Margaret keeps getting injuries to her shoulders and head when he sits on her. She had him to a vet near where she lives but he got so stressed that he nearly died. The vets had to put him in an oxygen tent for nine hours. She is a bit worried about taking him back!’
That sounded serious. Either the nail clipping had caused Dougie to have a serious panic attack, or the vets were being extremely cautious. Nevertheless, I reaffirmed my offer to help.
Margaret was on the phone the very next day, delighted to have found a vet who was prepared to see her beloved parrot. I just had one final question.
‘Margaret, I just have to ask – we are filming at the moment for a television series on Channel 5. Would you have any objection to being on telly?’
And so began another fantastic relationship with a member of the Hullah family.
I made Margaret and Dougie an appointment to come into the surgery the following week. We chose a quiet time so that there would be very few people and no terriers in the waiting room that might be a source of stress for the parrot. John would bring Margaret in his car and leave Ozzy at home. The plan was to give Dougie a general anaesthetic in a calm, quiet and quick way, then clip off his sharp bits and pop him back into his cage, to wake up in familiar surroundings with minimal handling, which would hopefully prevent a repeat of his previous near-death experience.
I knew that Laura, one of the producer-directors of The Yorkshire Vet, would be very excited about the prospect of filming a parrot, even though the veterinary part of the procedure would not be particularly technical. She arranged to call and see Dougie and Margaret at their home, to get some preliminary shots and make sure they were happy to be involved. Later that day, I received a text message from Laura, brimming over with excitement.
‘Dougie is AMAZING! Margaret is lovely and everything in her kitchen is bright green, to match the parrot. And DOUGIE SPEAKS WITH A YORKSHIRE ACCENT!’
A week later, Margaret and John brought Dougie to the surgery, ready for his pedicure and beak trimming. He was in a bright green basket, and Margaret was wearing a bright green coat and colourful parrot earrings. I ushered them into the consulting room, and right on cue, as if following a script, the fantastic green bird looked at me, then looked straight into Laura’s camera and shouted, in the broadest of Yorkshire accents, ‘Hellorr, Dougie!’
Not for the first time, Laura’s camera started wobbling uncontrollably as we all fell about laughing.
When you are a veterinary surgeon, you never have a conversation with your patient – well, not one that involves them actually talking to you in words, anyway. I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. It seemed rude not to reply, so I introduced myself.
‘Hello, Dougie, I’m Julian.’
‘What’s up wi’ you then?’ he responded!
Dougie’s chatter continued constantly as Kate, one of our very experienced nurses, manoeuvred him carefully into a smaller basket which we then enveloped in a large plastic bag, to make it into an oxygen tent. In this way we could pipe anaesthetic gas into the cage, so he could gently go to sleep with the minimum of stress. Although we couldn’t see him inside the bag, Kate and I both knew when he was asleep. Once the talking stopped, he was ready.
Claws clipped and beak trimmed, Dougie was soon awake, safely in his cage, sitting on his perch and chatting with anyone he met in the waiting room. Margaret was delighted, as was I. The procedure had been uneventful and I had escaped without injury from that powerful beak and those fearsome talons.
Dougie, for his part, became a TV sensation. The most famous parrot in the county. The parrot with a Yorkshire accent!