Medical Mayhem

Now I might be a bit unusual, but I quite enjoy visiting the Vet's. Any slight indignities on the consulting table are more than made up for by the possibilities that a waiting room full of assorted furries, and not so furries, can offer to a mischievous, small dog. In my youth, I used to favour a more active engagement, checking out the pet carriers, socialising with other dogs, and occasionally taking exception to the odd canine, or not so odd for that matter. These days however, I take a more measured approach and like to see myself as an agent provocateur rather than an overt participant.
          Take yesterday for example. 'Her Indoors' booked an appointment as she wanted to get me some more arthritis meds and some little yellow tablets that stop the odd mistake over where it's appropriate to wee.There were the usual cats in carriers and I like to go up to those and sniff loudly to see if I can elicit a response. Sniffing, I've found, is better than barking because you can't be told off; after all, you were just saying a polite hello. However, on this occasion I made a tactical error. I only checked the carriers nearest me. I realised my mistake when a Fox Terrier came in. She was there to have her stitches removed, but she probably burst them as she took grave exception to a particular pet carrier which I'd assumed held a feline. However, when the she started barking, I realised it was actually housing a very small dog, who took exception to being terrierised, and flung itself with admirable energy against the sides, making a noise out of all proportion to its size and stimulating further rage from the Fox Terrier. It was all kicking off nicely until the Vet called the basket case in for their consultation, leaving the Fox Terrier muttering into her beard.
          Then there was a very elegant Whippet. Now I don't really know why, but I've always thought of Whippets as 'yes' furs, probably because they look so refined and delicate, but this, it transpired, was a dog after my own heart. She'd helped herself to 50g of high cocoa chocolate and her owner was not happy. It was probably his chocolate that was about to be wasted by induced regurgitation, but I suspect he was more concerned about the pain in his wallet. Anyway, he regaled 'Her Indoors' with an impressive back catalogue of misdemeanours that shed a whole new light on the breed, or at least on that individual. Most illuminating.
          My innocent spectating in the waiting room was interrupted by my consultation, and I'm pleased to inform you that I'm in the happy position of having lost weight without trying to. You'd think the Vet and 'Her Indoors' would be happy, after all they moan enough when I put it on, but they're never satisfied so there was extra prodding and poking until they concluded it was just old age. Charming! Anyway, I tried to immediately remedy the situation by deploying my appealing eyes for biscuits but after about three, the Vet said I'd had enough.... Mixed messages I call it.
          We emerged back into the waiting room to find a lot of the space had been taken up by an enormous, even by breed standards, Great Dane. He was wearing an equally enormous cone of shame which he was wielding like a mace just by innocently turning his head. He'd got an injury to his back paw which I was keen to investigate but 'Her Indoors' wouldn't let me in case I provoked animosity that she'd have to intervene in. A worrying lack of dedication to the cause in my view.
          Still, all-in-all, it was a very enjoyable visit although there was one matter left unresolved. There was a van in the car park from the local zoo. I wonder what they'd brought with them and whether they'd mind the investigations of a small, senior Border Terrier.....