Healthy Turkeys

‘Bisto’ my very loving working cocker spaniel seems to have lost his Mojo. He is totally off his food, ultra clingy and listless. I have been trying to tempt him with roast chicken, rice and other tasty treats but to no avail, so have decided to take him to the vets. Bisto doesn’t like the vets. On his first visit for his vaccinations, he unsuspectingly and enthusiastically bounded into the vets room, only to have several needles jabbed into his scruff and a rather cold thermometer stuck up his backside. I will never forget the expression on his face when the latter was foisted upon him. It reminded me of a Cows face in ‘Country file’ when a vet donned an elbow length rubber glove – she knew what was coming.

It never ceases to amaze why pets are given the family surname when they are called in; “Tabby” Hopkins’, “Sparky” Brennan and “Spot” Saunders to name but a few. I get chatting to a lady with a huge German shepherd, (“Storm” Atkins). Apparently he keeps mounting her mother in law. I ask if he is going to have remedial training or castration, but she informs me that he is just going to have his claws trimmed!

Our turn arrives and I have to drag Bisto across the lino floor with all four of his legs locked out, his head twisting from side to side and round and round. He makes an occasional choking noise as his slip lead tightens around his windpipe.

Once in, I begin to explain his symptoms to the vet, and Bisto manages to tinkle all over the floor. I manhandle him onto the rubber-topped table for his examination, which surprisingly goes very smoothly, that is until the vet unpacks the thermometer. The next few minutes are mayhem as the vet, dog tail in one hand, thermometer in the other, tries to find the target. Despite several promising approaches, Bisto is having none of it; he swings his hindquarters around like a Hawaiian dancer, with his backside puckered up like a traffic wardens mouth. After some futile minutes of inaccurate lunges, the vet concedes defeat and asks me to try later at home. Fat chance.

In any event, she gives him a steroid jab and by the time we get home, he is back to his old self

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s