This story was told to me several years ago by one of my favourite nurses: All names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

One day, a collapsed dog was brought into the clinic.

It was presumed to be a poisoning (of unknown cause), and supportive care was commenced.

Once the patient was stable, the nurse, Rosie, was left to monitor it whilst The Boss continued with his morning consults.

During this time, Rosie felt a little twinge in her stomach, and after looking around to check that the coast was clear, she passed a bit of wind.

Not long after the noxious smell of the gas hit her nostrils. Rosie gagged a little as she realised that she had quite possibly just unleashed the foulest odour in the history of the world.

It was at this moment that our practice manager, Brenda, entered the treatment room to see how things were going.

“Phwoar! What is that SMELL?” gasped Brenda, who was never shy to call a spade a spade.

And that was when Rosie did what anyone would do in that situation. She blamed the dog.

“Well then,” said Brenda. “I’d better get The Boss. Maybe he’ll be able to tell what the poisoning is if he smells it.”

And with that, she quickly went to fetch The Boss.

The Boss wandered into the room, and after one sniff enquired, “Did the dog defecate?!”

Turning red, Rosie stammered, “um, no… I think it was just wind.”

And that was when things went from the embarrassing to the mortifying as Trevor and Mark, two other vets at the practice, returned from their house calls.

Brenda ushered them into the room so that they too could “take a whiff” and give their opinions on what could have affected the dog so badly.

After what seemed like an eternity of sniffing and speculating, the vets decided that they couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact poisoning from the smell, and they left to tend to their other patients.

Much later that afternoon, Brenda entered the treatment room and found Rosie sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face, hysterical with silent laughter.

Brenda narrowed her eyes and said, “It was you,” with a certainty that comes with working with someone closely for years.

As Rosie silently nodded, Brenda turned on her heel and marched in to the office where The Boss was typing up his case notes.

“You know that smell earlier?” announced Brenda.

“It was Rosie.”

The Boss never looked away from his work as he declared “That wasn’t human!”

And as for the dog? I’m pleased to report that he recovered from his mystery poisoning and lived to a ripe old age.