A ramble along the byways of medical history
Scatology — the study of excrement — has long fascinated my co-author and me.1 Nevertheless, until our most recent discovery, even we would have conceded that the most dedicated coprophile would be hard pressed to find a link between dog droppings, medicine and Christmas. At the Nativity, despite the manger’s rural setting, was there a dog, let alone dog droppings, to be seen? Cows, goats, sheep aplenty and a camel or three, but Rover seemed conspicuously absent. Rudolph is a reindeer, not a red setter. And, over those 12 days of Christmas, our True Love trucked in a whole aviary of birds but, for some reason, never a dog a-barking.
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