Dogs. I’ve always loved them. As a child in Dunedin we had a bad-tempered family cocker spaniel called Jamie, who bit so many people he was eventually put down, but he didn’t put me off dogs.
When I went to work on farms it was a joy to have my very own dogs, to train and spend most of my working day with them.
As a veterinarian I found I had a natural affinity with dogs, and I got on pretty well with most of them. And yet, looking back, without being reminded, I can only remember a few as individuals. Apart from those we owned as a family of course.
Of the individuals I do remember, one standout was Binky Boyle. Really there was nothing particularly standout about him, but there was something very special about his owners.
Binky himself came to us in 1998, not long after we opened the new clinic in Redwood Street with Stuart Burrough. I think he may have been Stuart’s patient at his previous practice, but I’m not really sure. Over the next nine years we all saw Binky regularly. He was a solid little bichon frise, who had many of the standard mishaps in his life.
A ruptured right anterior cruciate ligament. A corneal ulcer. Then a ruptured left anterior cruciate a year later, a not uncommon problem for dogs. Persistent ear infections. Skin infections on his abdomen which turned out to be food allergy, and so on. In later life Binky prolapsed a lumbar disc, developed moderate hypothyroidism, and was put on ACE inhibitors to treat his elevated blood pressure.
None of these things are unusual in a dog’s life. But his owners were simply extraordinary.
Raewyn and Don Boyle were and are good ordinary New Zealanders. There was nothing flash about them, and I’m sure they live straightforward and decent, simple lives, still.
They would do anything for Binky, and brought him to the clinic regularly. In later years they would have up to 20 visits to the clinic in a year, and we had a solid, friendly relationship with them both.
What made them very special was chocolate. Raewyn Boyle made chocolates to a standard as high as most whose whole business is chocolates.
She made thousands of them, in myriad shapes. She must have had hundreds of moulds, and her skills were wondrous.
Raewyn didn’t sell any of her chocolates, she gave them away. And The Vet Centre Marlborough was one of the greatest beneficiaries of her generosity. Three or four times a year Raewyn would appear in the clinic with a massive basket of chocolates, sometimes two.
Their presentation was superb. Coloured ribbons and tinsel, Father Christmases, reindeer, Easter bunnies, you name it, Raewyn made it. There were solid chocolates, chewy chocolates and chocolates with a huge variety of delicious soft fillings. Every basket was labelled ‘From Binky Boyle’.
There would be whoops of delight in the staffroom as the receptionist arrived holding the latest wonder from Binky, and so large were the offerings that it usually took several days for a dozen hungry nurses and vets to clean them all up.
Raewyn’s generosity was amazing, and her skill in making the chocolates was extraordinary. I never found out whether Raewyn and Don had grandchildren, but if they did they must have thought gallons of chocolate was normal life.
From time to time Binky would turn up for another appointment, never very happy about being there, but stoically enduring whatever latest indignity we were putting him through, whether it was a thermometer up his bottom, some fluorescein in his eye, or blood being taken from his cephalic vein in the front leg. He never grumbled, but neither did he look excited to see us.
There has never been another Raewyn Boyle and probably never will be. She and Don loved Binky passionately, and the chocolates were their way of showing they appreciated our care.
It’s generosity like theirs which puts the icing on the cake for us veterinarians. We did our jobs as professionally as we could, and the successful outcome of whatever we were doing was reward in itself. But the amazing and special relationships we formed with people made worthwhile all the long hours, the late calls and the working weekends.
Just before I retired in 2007, Don and Raewyn made an appointment for Binky, and they wanted me to see him. At that stage Binky was developing mild Cushings disease. This is a chronic over production of corticosteroids from the adrenal gland, and is life threatening. He was in his twelfth year, and was drinking and urinating a lot, and the Boyles were worried for him. He was getting pretty lethargic and I knew he didn’t have long to go. But he was still interested in life around him, and it wasn’t yet his time.
As the consultation finished, Don Boyle said, ‘You might like this, Pete. It’s our thank you.’ From a bag he produced a wrapped bottle. I unwrapped it there and then. It was a litre of Wilson’s whisky, New Zealand made. Somehow they had known of my liking for the malt.
It was another example of their amazing kindness, and I struggled with the lump in my throat as I thanked them and said my goodbye.
I’m struggling with it again as I write this story.
It was wonderful people like Don and Raewyn who have left me with lasting memories of a life as a vet.