Straight after his performance over the weekend Doggo is booked in for an op this morning. So it’s nil by mouth for him this morning. He’s going to have a small lump removed off his rear thigh. It could be a large zit or it could be something more sinister but we thought we best find out. As we have insurance on him, that we’ve never used, we’re having the works. Pre-op blood tests, post-op histology and one of those hilarious lampshade collars, amongst other things. We’ve even probably paid extra for tea and biscuits for when he comes round from his anaesthetic. Custard creams are his favourite, so my mother tells me. He gets no such luxuries here, not to my knowledge anyway.
L ‘volunteers’ (phew) to escort the patient to what he will see as a fate worse than death while I sit at work and chew my nails with stress. By the way, no punctures on the bike today.
Then there’s the resident drama queen to cope with. MD will be so jealous that Doggo gets to go ‘out’ and he doesn’t... if only he knew. When L comes back without Doggo, MD transforms into himself into Mr Pitiful Creature, moping by the front door, waiting for Doggo to return. He’s such a lost dog. First Son goes missing, then Daughter and now Doggo.
So L takes the day off to console him, walk him (a lopsided walk with only one dog) and plays endless games of football with him. Which is better than having him sobbing on her knee all day long.
The patient is home before I get back from work, with everything having gone well, although he still looks a bit woozy from the anaesthetic. Now I have to explain to him that’s he’s really not up to attending training tonight and has to stay home to convalesce. Then I head off with MD, who is equally unkeen to be parted from his buddy but he soon forgets when he meets up with all his pals at training.
(Monday 3rd October)