Neither Michael nor I slept well last night. We were very aware that we had to be up at sparrow fart (for us) and out of the house with the Three Stooges at eight fifteen. Actually, the day had started with last night's dosing of the Beagle for her chronic carsickness. We hold four of these precious pills for just such an occasion. We take Ruby in the car at little as possible, because each tablet is ten dollars a pop.
So, we started the day tired. And after Michael's shower, we noticed he was developing welts all over his torso, upper legs and arms. More fun and games for him.
Michael loaded them into Kermit at the required time. I grabbed a couple of towels in case Ruby's medication failed. We try to confine the dogs to Kermit, as he is not really known for his good looks or luxurious upholstery. Which makes him a perfect vehicle for transporting the dogs.
With courage in hand, we set out for Northam and Graeme our vet. The dogs were unusually subdued. We hoped this was a good omen. Sascha and Pip sat or lay together, trampling Ruby from time to time when they decided they really had to get air through her window. Ruby was silent, upright and drooling. Every car trip is an ordeal for her.
We arrived without too much dog hair up our noses, in our ears or down our shirts. The dogs all relieved themselves, Pip gleefully piddling onto Sascha's tail. Beautiful. They were quite relaxed about actually going in the vet surgery's door. We lived in hope.
The first ordeal was weighing them. None of them know how to sit still on command. A bit hit and miss, but their weights were duly recorded. Then we waited to be invited into the consulting room.
Sascha first. The extra finger, toe, bosom or whatever was to be excised off her left foot. We decided not to remove the fatty lump off her head. This is not bothering her and would have meant a longer operation, a bigger excision and more anaesthetic. She would also have her teeth cleaned and nails clipped whilst asleep. And much to our surprise, we discovered that Sascha had been microchipped as a pup. Now I just had to change the details - my surname and new address.
Ruby next. Her ears were skanky, her teeth are a disaster and she is still a tad chubby. However, she really does have a placid disposition and caused no trouble with having her temperature taken, nails clipped and ears cleaned. She was only alarmed enough to hold her tail straight out for some time after the thermometer had been inserted up her bottom.
And Pip last. We had hoped he would be sedated. Graeme had obviously forgotten quite how horrendous Pip behaves at the vet. It was on for young and old. Seven and a half kilos of pure Jack Russell muscle fought with every breath, even with a muzzle on. He bit his own tongue, scratched my hand and drew blood, weed everywhere and growled continuously and furiously in outraged indignation. Between the three of me, we managed to get his nailed clipped and clean out his anal glands.
Unfortunately, Pip had the last laugh. Maybe in revenge, he shot a blast of hot poohs out of his bum aimed at all of us. Michael collected a blob on his shoe and jeans. I quipped that at least the shoes were pooh coloured. His pants copped a sizable stripe. I had the stuff all over my hands and blood (his or mine) on my shirt. There was pooh from one end of the room to the other.
Pip was immediately handed to one of the vet nurses for an urgent bath. He stopped struggling immediately, the little bastard. In fact, I could swear that he had fallen in love with her on first sight,
the cantankerous little toad.
Sascha was taken out for her surgery and blood tests. Pip, now smelling like a daisy and Ruby were escorted to the day runs, with water, shade and a blanket. We were just thankful the worst was over.
Apologising profusely to Graeme for the disaster in his previously pristine consulting room, we left in Kermit for a restorative cup of coffee at Lucy's Cafe.
On the way, we stopped at the new doctors' surgery, hoping Michael could be seen whilst we were in town. I explained to the receptionist that the vet couldn't treat Michael so we'd turned up at the doctors' surgery instead. The whole waiting room was highly amused. Armed with an appointment, we retired to Lucy's. Bugger the consequences - I had the biggest orange and poppyseed muffin I could find. Michael's raspberry and white chocolate muffin was equally enormous.
I had been complaining about my glasses for some time, particularly when I was reading. The print was getting too hard to see clearly. Time for an eye test. Miraculously, one of the optometrists on the main drag could see us straight away. We both completed the eye examinations, had a photograph taken as a baseline for each of us and I chose a pair of frames and organised my lenses.
We left for Michael's appointment at the quacks in a hurry, needing to return later to finish his paperwork and choose a frame for his new welding specs. We shouldn't have worried - the GP was running an hour late.
The very nice, unfamiliar GP seemed a bit taken aback as I followed Michael into her room. She checked that Michael was OK with me being present. We exchanged knowing looks. When she started reading the copious notes I had filled out and asking questions, she understood why I was there as well.
She took her time. I tried to fill her in as quickly as possible on Michael's meds, his history and the current problem. She inspected his torso and conferred with her colleague. They decided the rash was viral. We left with an encyclopaedia of blood tests for Michael to have in the morning.
Back to the optometrist. Michael chose some frames, we ordered his hardened lenses, paid the bill and thanked the staff. They had been an oasis of calm in a day of chaos. On the way back to the vets, we stopped at the bottle shop for a half dozen medicinal libations. We wondered if it was too early for a quick swig.
Sascha was wobbly but very pleased to see us. Graeme had discovered her left ear was filled with garbage as well whilst she was asleep. Pip's behaviour had somersaulted to delightful and Ruby was just pleased to be going home, in spite of the car trip.
We bid farewell to Graeme and his team, armed with two different lots of ear cream, ear wash, antibiotics and worming tablets. The bill was staggering but not unexpected. I thanked the universe for Mastercard.
The trip home was splendidly uneventful. Ruby endured the travelling as well as possible. Sascha slept. Pip was back to his gregarious Jack Russell self. We turned into the driveway of the House that Rocks at half past three. We had been gone seven hours.
Michael helped Sascha out. Pip leapt excitedly out of Kermit and Ruby followed suit. I could have sworn I saw her kissing the ground. We were shattered.
We lurched down the hallway into our bedroom to bed for rest and recuperation. We all slept for a couple of hours and rose much refreshed. Dinner was leftovers. The Cabernet Merlot had never tasted so good.
And we agreed that we were never ever going to take Pip at the vet again without sedation!
The original three Stooges...
Larry...
Curly...
and Mo.
How Ruby, Pip and Sascha view themselves...
If Ruby was a talking cat...
and our fearless band of heroes at the Vet....though I shall go into the Valley of Death, I will fear no evil - even a psycho Jack Russell!
