Home is best... - Living Between the Lines
Honestly, the Boss makes far too much fuss about the most ridiculous events. Take today for instance. All she has to do is take Charlie and me for our boosters oh, and I need another blood test. Ah, did she not tell you I have been ill? I can’t say I am surprised, she rarely seems to know which way is up these days. To cut a very long story short, let me just say that a slight stomach pain, that caused me to stretch and walk backwards (I got very good at navigating the entire living room and kitchen in this way) took a sinister turn when the Vet suspected liver failure and I was rushed to a specialist veterinary centre where I stayed for a biopsy and further tests. The Boss knew something was not right when I was found lying at the bottom of the garden, refusing to move. I kid you not, I was ready to throw in the towel and the dog brush, the dog bowl and my collar and lead for good measure. I took myself off to the bottom of the garden, lay down and closed my eyes. “Leave me alone,” I wanted to say, but they wouldn’t. The specialist centre decided my liver was not failing which was apparently good news, but said that I had a couple of very nasty infections in my liver and gall bladder… “Has she eaten anything unusual?” they asked. I tried not to meet the Boss’s eyes as her brain started whirring. What counts as unusual? There was that yogurt pot but I brought that up pretty quickly once I realised it is the contents one is supposed to eat, not the actual container. I haven’t eaten a sock since I was a puppy – I do love chewy, soggy paper but is that really so unusual? A bird? Well, really, that’s not unusual is it? I heard the Boss mention it and felt quite aggrieved. She was referring to me accidentally catching one of our feathered friends the other day. For goodness sake, I wasn’t eating it…it just sort of flew into my mouth. Children’s crayons? Oh, I have given those up…honest! I hid under the desk. I was glad to get home I can tell you. Once home, things looked up. There were regular blood tests of course and apparently, the Boss had to keep collecting yet more medication and it seems I got through three changes of antibiotics before they managed to rid me of the infections. On the upside, she began giving me two meals a day to cope with the tablets and she didn’t always get the portion adjustment right. Today is my final blood test. My last test was normal. If these results are also normal then I am officially cured. I am not told we are going to the Vet’s this morning of course, the Boss never tells me. Charlie and I just jump in the car and off we go. I know the signs though. The Boss is a little agitated. She spends a lot of time looking for that frightful blue and red muzzle thing for Charlie. When she can’t find it, she frowns a lot and wags her finger at poor Charlie Brown who doesn’t understand why he should wear it anyway. He happily jumps into the boot (well, it helps if it is open as he soon finds out – ouch!) and settles down, so I join him. Now, I know from experience that the Boss likes to take us in separately. Today is no exception. Charlie remains in the car and I am taken inside. When one goes into the vet, it is fine to go a little crazy, it helps pass the time and stops one getting anxious. Maybe the Boss should take note! The car alarm goes off beyond the window. The Boss sighs in that, ‘what now?’ way she has and flicks her key. Charlie must be moving around in there. I do my thing of giving a little whine, and trying to greet everyone who comes in with an enthusiastic lick. The Boss doesn’t make the mistake of sitting on the bench by the window. She knows I will want to join her and we both know the sign says, ‘don’t let your pet on the furniture.’ So, we both stand near the door (I like to be able to see a way out). The car alarm goes off again. The boss flicks her key in its direction. It shrieks a few more times as we stand there and I can feel the Boss’s temperature rising. Finally, Gillian, our vet, calls us in. There is an embarrassing moment as I step onto the scales, “My goodness Flossie, you are the heaviest you have ever been!” she exclaims. I feel the boss’s disapproval. I feel a return to one meal a day is on the cards. I get off the scales quickly and allow myself to be led out to the back room where blood can be taken and a nice nurse keeps me still. They know me well here. (The car alarm goes off several more times – what on earth is that dog doing in there?) “Now, if you bring Charlie Brown in…” says Gillian. The Boss flicks the key because the car alarm is shrieking again, “Could I bring him round the back way?” she begs. (I know she is begging, the vet just hears a reasonable request.) I am thrown back into the car whereupon Charlie, who has apparently been desperate for a wee, flies out and relieves himself by the hedge. The Boss grabs his lead and they disappear round the back of the building. Charlie is the model patient once inside the surgery, apparently, but if he meets a dog on the way…anything could happen. It is worth noting that I do not set off the car alarm. Charlie could learn a thing or two from me. The Boss is returning, she comes round the corner of the building and I know she has spotted the lady with the little dog, waiting by the front entrance (the normal entrance). Charlie does not see the dog, mainly because the Boss drags him round the other side of the car, squeezing past the hedge and deftly plonks him on the back seat where he is none the wiser. The Boss brushes bits of hedge from her coat and climbs into the driver’s seat, where she sits for a few moments, taking long, deep breaths. “Home?” she asks at last. I think so. Home is best. P.S. My hair is growing back nicely after the biopsy Related