The other day I read the latest Mental Meanderings over at the daughter’s place.
It reminded me … I had offered to bring their dog down to Doc.
Now Woodja and myself have a lot in common. We are of an age where the grey hairs are beginning to appear, and the old stiffness is creeping into the joints. Like myself, Woodja is slowing down when it comes to a drop of perambulation.
Yesterday I phoned Doc to tell him I was bringing the dog down. Doc trained as a vet but doesn’t like to be reminded of the fact as he now fancies himself as a fully fledged doctor. Leastwise the reason for my call didn’t arise as Doc was too pissed to talk coherently, which is a sort of occupational hazard with him, especially around midday for some reason.
I made an appointment with a vet in Scobieville and brought the dog over.
The vet was very thorough. He poked and prodded. He listened with a stethoscope. He made me walk Woodja up and down the car park, around in circles, at a slow pace and a fast. I felt like I was at Crufts. The vet was delighted with our performance [though we didn’t win any cups or rosettes] and finally announced that Woodja had arthritis.
To cut a long story short, he gave me a prescription for a liquid medicine which he swore was great stuff for loosening the joints. He also have me a large bottle to start with.
I brought Woodja back home and handed him back to a delighted daughter and gave her the prescription.
The vet was right about that liquid.
I’m leppin’ around like a Spring lamb today.