There was this one time when I was about to go on holidays when a dog bit me on the bum. I was knocking on a neighbour's door to check they were right to clear the mailbox while we were away when their normally passive dog bit me. I had to detour via the GP's for a tetanus shot. Today I feared another dog might ruin another holiday, but my concern for my sick little puppy far, far outweighed any thoughts of holidays. For two hours he sat on my lap in the waiting room of the after hours vet looking so sad, barely moving, not even reacting to the other dogs around him. Then he lay on the flood of the treatment room while his blood sample was being analysed looking so tragically, pathetically sad. When your child is sick you heart hurts, and Rumple is my baby. I know non-dog people might not understand this, and plenty of people have plenty of good reason to think my relationship with Rumple is a little over the top. But spend a few hours waiting and watching in an emergency vet surgery and you see pet owners at their most vulnerable, The image burned into my mind from today was one of a family, Mum, Dad and two kids probably in their early high school years who arrived, I suspect to say their last goodbyes. They were clutching each other, eyes red and checks wet. The boy was holding a roll of toilet paper, because I box of tissues would not have been sufficient to deal with the flood of tears. They were escorted behind closed doors and I didn't see them again. And this is why the $338 I paid to learn Rumple most likely has a bout of gastro from something he ate was a fine investment in peace of mind. We left with drugs and a special diet and a bucket load of reassurance. Hopefully a holiday at the seaside will do us both good.
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