After Ruby the Beagle's last Great Escape from the House that Rocks, we booked another appointment with a new vet in Northam, seventy kilometres from Heavenly Beverley. George Huber, our previous vet and an old drinking buddy of Michael's, had finally retired from his practice. Hence the need for a new animal practitioner. We viewed this trip with great trepidation, for a number of reasons. All to do with the Three Stooges.
Keeping Ruby within the confines of our yard was the first challenge. Her ears had deteriorated from mildly disgusting to truly awful. She had to go to the vet. So we barricaded all three dogs inside the house the night before the expedition. Michael had to go on toilet duty with them at some stage of the night. And make sure the Beagle did not abscond.
In the morning, we tied her to our garden tool post in the shade to prevent any possibility of her leaving the yard without permission. Then it was time for her medication prior to travel. Naturally Ruby also gets hideously, spectacularly carsick, so she has an anti-nauseant prior to any trip, anywhere.
It was time. We loaded all three dogs into the back of Kermit, our ancient four-wheel drive. Kermit's best feature is not his looks, but we figured if Ruby was going to drool and slobber all over the seat, we preferred her to do that in Kermit, rather than in our new little buzz box, Goldie.
The other dogs have no problem with travelling. In fact, they enjoy being in the car. Sascha, the big grey Weimaraner, loves nothing better than to stick her head out the window until her lips and ears flap in the wind. At that point, she usually returns inside the confines of the car to sneeze. Mostly over us.
Pip bounces around the car as only a Jack Russell can. He likes to see out the front and merrily perches on our CD stack between the two front seats. With both back windows open, a green Beagle on one side and a joyfully sneezing Weimaraner on the other side. Pip's copious amount of white, stiff, terrier hair then begins to fly out in all directions around the car. His hair gets in our eyes, up our noses and in our clothes. I once found a particularly long Pip hair sticking into a very tender spot inside my bra.
We arrived in Northam more or less in one piece. Ruby was delighted to exit the perpetrator of her distress. She was the only dog on a lead. Pip and Sascha leapt from the car with consummate ease and careered around the vet's car park, Pip taking the opportunity to wee on every plant he could find to show his extreme Jack Russell manliness.
Into the waiting room. Weighed the Three Stooges. Met the charming vet nurse and sat down until our turn. Ruby checked out all the dog products and food, before settling down at Michael's feet. Pip was very, very alert and panting, hiding between our legs. Sascha was at ease, exploring every nook and cranny, wandering down the hallway and greeting anyone as if they were old friends.
We met Graeme the vet. Top bloke, obviously loved his profession and very eager to meet Sascha, in particular, given her history. He greeted her as "the dog who shouldn't be alive". Sascha has survived two different cancers and a benign growth in her groin that had to be removed as it was cutting off her circulation. She has undergone major surgery on at least four occasions and endured two twelve-month bouts of chemotherapy. Now, at the age of almost twelve, Graeme was impressed with her condition. Good heart, great weight, no nasty masses, a bounty of age-related innocent lumps and bumps and just the beginning of cataracts. She allowed him to examine her with no complaint, didn't move a muscle for her vaccination and only transformed into a complete wuss for her nail clipping.
Ruby's ears were declared to be "skanky". I loved the description. She needed a full clean out of both aural orifices, swabs, antibiotics, ear drops and steroids for the inflammation. This could only be adequately performed under anaesthetic. We also discussed her escapology at length, particularly with the electric fence and collar still having less than satisfactory results. We decided to microchip her along with everything else.Then, at least in she was found wandering, the ranger would be able to return her home. We also added an Elizabethan plastic collar to Ruby's growing list of required items. Its effects would be twofold, keeping her feet away from her ears and hopefully preventing her from being able to get under the fence.
Pip, the Jack Russell with an extremely bad attitude was seen last. We had already forewarned Graeme he needed to be muzzled. Even so, the little bastard managed to wriggle out of his muzzle. Twice. He turned into eight kilos of writhing, wriggling pure steel, expressing his outrage with sustained snarling and growling. Examining him was a three person operation. He threw himself around in a frenzy of fury, from the table to the floor to my arms. He took pieces out of both Michael and me with his claws. Somehow we managed to finish without any of us being bitten. He had his temperature taken, his anal glands squeezed, his vaccination given and his nails clipped. He further expressed his displeasure by first poohing and then widdling on the floor. Even Graeme was getting a tad harrassed. He called for a nurse to clean up the mess and then bellowed a second time when no one came running. His words, to the nurse when she did arrive, were succinct. "I don't often call for help. When I do, I expect you to come!"
We left for a lunch interval, whilst Ruby was having her procedure. In spite of Pip's outrageous shenanigans, they offered to dog-sit the canine toad and Sascha whilst we went for a bite to eat. I saw them safely into an outside run, complete with mats, shade and water. I sternly told Pip he did not deserve such comfort.
After a most relaxing lunch at Lucy's Cafe, Michael dropped me off to Woolies, whilst he visited Midalia Steel to order the iron sheets he required for the walls of the gallery. We rendezvoused outside the Boulevarde shopping centre and prepared ourselves to be reunited with the three Stooges. And face the Bill.
Ruby came out tottering on four wobbly legs. We picked up a first aid kit's worth of medication, ear drops, ear wash and the plastic collar. We invested in a new, expensive anti-nauseant drug for her that lasted twenty-four hours instead of four hours. We also had worming tablets for all of them. We needed a bag to carry all the stuff.
I offered to go out the back to release Pip and Sascha. One of the vet nurses replied she could bring them out. She hadn't seen Pip in action. She retreated back to the reception desk thirty seconds later and asked me to accompany her to the outside run..
The two dogs were delighted to see me. Pip was a model Jack Russell once he knew we were out of there. Sascha was her usual agreeable self, wagging her tail and acknowledging her fans. I told Pip he was a disgrace and he should be ashamed of himself.
$1468 later we left for home. Thank God for credit cards. And only God knows when we'll be able to pay it off! Ruby slept all the way, was helped out of the car, tripped on the front doorstep and retired to bed. Sascha let rip with the most noxious farts for the entire journey, whilst enjoying an elderly lady snooze, after the day's excitement. Pip's evil twin departed and his very alert and happy persona was present once more. But we knew he would behave in exactly the same way next time we needed to take him for veterinary attention.
We were shattered, covered in hair, goobers and other unpleasant substances. We pulled up outside the House that Rocks about four o'clock. Michael went to sort out some work at the shops. I did the dishes. We had our good friends Guy and Denese for drinks whilst their seven-year-old bundle of boy energy played in the pool.
I know we ate dinner. I know we drank very nice wine whilst watching television. I just can't remember going to bed or falling instantly asleep. Apparently we both did.
This morning, we cleaned Ruby's ears with the wash, inserted the ear drops, gave her the antibiotic and anti-inflammatory and clipped on her Elizabethan collar again. She is still getting used to the collar and looks most woebegone.
We don't care. She is the Beagle from hell and deserves everything that is happening to her. Except I forgot. We actually love the little witch!
The Three Stooges, in preferred positions.
