Jibber Jabber Jibber Jabber Bathroom Squeak*
Today we had the wonderful chore of taking three dogs and a cat to Aberystwyth for their annual boosters. Our vet, whilst very good at his job, has a rather antiquated outlook when it comes to customer service. There is a surgery twice a day and it works on a first come first served basis; you can't book in advance. His waiting room is small; his surgery room itself smaller still. So it pays to get in early, ahead of the queues.
It's quite a logistical exercise: making sure that the cat is inside; finding leads (the dogs don't really need them around here) and retrieving the cat box from the loft; rearranging the car for multiple beast transport. This morning it wasn't helped by torrential rain, but we did make it to the surgery for 8.30 when it opened. Unfortunately several hardy locals had beaten us there, including a gentleman with a large box containing eight chocolate Labrador puppies. So we had to wait our turn.
And wait. And wait some more.
Eventually Barbara managed to get in with Chiswick and Buddug at around half past ten. I waited outside with Mac and Mort, as there wasn't room in the surgery for all of us.
Giving a dog or cat a quick once over and jabbing it with some vaccine shouldn't take long. Our vet, however, knows that Barbara works on a research farm and is very interested in what she is doing. He also seems completely oblivious to the large number of patient owners and their animals sitting in his waiting room: each consultation will take as long as it takes. Also, Chiswick is not well.
He's only twelve, which isn't that old for a Jack Russel, but they've been twelve hard years and he's not been right since he was a pup. Whilst Mort and Mac have both plumped up considerably in my parents' keep, Chiswick has gone off his food almost completely and is in the process of going completely bald. He's also reverting to puppyhood in several annoying ways and can't quite understand why he's no longer allowed in the carpeted areas of the house. The vet took a considerable amount of time examining him before pumping him full of antibiotics and declaring that a vaccination booster jab would be unwise as it would probably finish him off.
He also took a blood test, and phoned me back just a few minutes ago (how's about that for service?) with the results - some sort of chronic infection, as yet unidentified, and anaemia. So along with the antibiotics, Chiswick's also got to go on multivitamins with iron, and a carb rich diet - porridge is good, apparently. He had one eye punctured in a fight with one of my parents' dogs a few years ago, and the shrivelled remains of the eyeball will have to be surgically removed now, just in case that's the source of the infection. But not until he's perked up a bit. So over the next few weeks he's going to be quite an expensive dog. Still, he does appreciate the attention.
At least there was nothing wrong with the others.
* with apologies to the Soft Boys
It's quite a logistical exercise: making sure that the cat is inside; finding leads (the dogs don't really need them around here) and retrieving the cat box from the loft; rearranging the car for multiple beast transport. This morning it wasn't helped by torrential rain, but we did make it to the surgery for 8.30 when it opened. Unfortunately several hardy locals had beaten us there, including a gentleman with a large box containing eight chocolate Labrador puppies. So we had to wait our turn.
And wait. And wait some more.
Eventually Barbara managed to get in with Chiswick and Buddug at around half past ten. I waited outside with Mac and Mort, as there wasn't room in the surgery for all of us.
Giving a dog or cat a quick once over and jabbing it with some vaccine shouldn't take long. Our vet, however, knows that Barbara works on a research farm and is very interested in what she is doing. He also seems completely oblivious to the large number of patient owners and their animals sitting in his waiting room: each consultation will take as long as it takes. Also, Chiswick is not well.
He's only twelve, which isn't that old for a Jack Russel, but they've been twelve hard years and he's not been right since he was a pup. Whilst Mort and Mac have both plumped up considerably in my parents' keep, Chiswick has gone off his food almost completely and is in the process of going completely bald. He's also reverting to puppyhood in several annoying ways and can't quite understand why he's no longer allowed in the carpeted areas of the house. The vet took a considerable amount of time examining him before pumping him full of antibiotics and declaring that a vaccination booster jab would be unwise as it would probably finish him off.
He also took a blood test, and phoned me back just a few minutes ago (how's about that for service?) with the results - some sort of chronic infection, as yet unidentified, and anaemia. So along with the antibiotics, Chiswick's also got to go on multivitamins with iron, and a carb rich diet - porridge is good, apparently. He had one eye punctured in a fight with one of my parents' dogs a few years ago, and the shrivelled remains of the eyeball will have to be surgically removed now, just in case that's the source of the infection. But not until he's perked up a bit. So over the next few weeks he's going to be quite an expensive dog. Still, he does appreciate the attention.
At least there was nothing wrong with the others.
* with apologies to the Soft Boys
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