The Wings of Victory by Fred M. White

"What's the matter with Vim to-night?" de Barsac asked. "He has already broken two glasses and a dessert plate. What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know," Bevill said anxiously. "Ever since I came back he has been quite a different animal. He has been moody and restless, as if he were in some sort of pain. I have been wondering if his teeth want attending to. He was just like this two years ago when I had to have a special animal doctor down from London to see him, and he was of opinion that Vim was suffering from an abscess at the root of his teeth. And that really was the matter. It cost me no end of a lot of money to get a dentist to operate, but we managed it eventually, at the Zoological Gardens in London. And that was the cause of all the trouble. But for days afterwards the anaesthetic upset the poor beast, and he was positively dangerous for a time. Just like he was last year when he managed to get hold of a bottle of Benedictine and drank more than half of it before Garrass discovered what was going on. Garrass, you remember that, don't you? You recollect what a time we had?"