Where Are We Going?
… I asked, calmly, before being stuffed into the Otto-mobile way before my normally-allotted time.
Oh don’t worry, mum said, it’s just a quick trip and nothing to bother your fuzzy head about.
THAT, my friends, is exactly the moment you should begin to worry.
We were headed back to the dreaded emergency veterinarian’s office, not for surgery or anything invasive this time, but for a stitch removal and checkup. Sounds like it wouldn’t be traumatic, but yeah, I wasn’t thrilled. Going inside buildings still kind of frightens me, and this building in particular is not my favorite. So full disclosure, I had to be slightly dragged inside. I’m not proud of it, wish I wasn’t embarrassed in front of all of the other dogs (and cats) inside, but hey, I’m still a little scaredy-cat when it comes to buildings I don’t know. Once inside I was treated to a full waiting area of other doggies and lots of energy and confusion, but I was a bit better than the trip inside the actual door.
The doctor came out to meet me in a room, got me down on my back (not an easy task), and had a look at my incisions. Looking good – one small area near my boy bits where I have apparently been a little too eagerly attentive to (ahem, still a boy even if you took my boy bits away). So a little antibiotic ointment a few times a day (lovely, yummy) and all looks good.
For my trouble I got to go through my first drive-through and was rewarded with a delicious Arby’s roast beef sandwich. Which I inhaled. Really, it was gone in seconds. There would have been photos of this blessed event, but mum wasn’t able to juggle her phone, and my excitement at the same time. Not to mention my roast beef breath.
But all is well. Many, many thanks to all who have cared about me during this unpleasantness. I promise that I won’t eat any socks ever again (that I can see and/or get to).