I told Kevin Dennehy.So much for saying nothing but good about the dead.It was nine o’clock on the morning of Saturday, August 31, and Kevin was sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee, eating his third English muffin, and sneaking bits of it to Kimi and Sammy. I didn’t take Kevin to task for breaking the house rule. He'd been up all night. Steve, too, was laboring on Labor Day weekend, although for only a short time, or so I hoped. His clinic had called a half hour earlier about a Belgian Tervuren suffering from an apparent intestinal obstruction. The X ray showed what the young vet at the clinic thought might be a corn cob. But could Steve take a quick look? Oh, my. Never in his life had Steve taken a less-than-thorough look at an animal. Even so, a corn cob was a likely bet, and if Steve saw one on the radiograph, he’d call Angell Memorial Hospital and have the owner rush the dog there for surgery. By the way, should you care to promote veterinary prosperity at great monetary cost to yourself and possibly fatal risk to your dog, let your dog eat com cobs, or give him a chance to filch them.
