Getting some shots
Over the last four years, we’ve become lax about canine medicine. All is well, so why unbalance the system? But, on checking the regulations should our household stray into unknown territories, I decided to check the regulations about vaccines for the pooch. Specifically (but not exclusively) as to the required certificates against rabies.
And we were due for a redo. I called the local clinic, and received an appointment within the twenty-four hour window that would maintain my interest. Got the “medical records” out of storage, and in mid-afternoon we arrived at the address (thank you, Google maps).
Inside the clinic, a strange sense of familiarity. Bags of expensive foods on display along one wall. A high counter, to keep the wild dogs at bay. Doors leading to inner sanctums. In short, exactly like the clinic where we used to live. Is this a sign that the doctors read the same business journals?
We were shown in, promptly, and the dog got to sit/stand on the scale platform embedded in the floor. Once the technician was elsewhere, I did the same thing. After all, I know my own weight; this served to verify the accuracy…
We chose from a menu without prices. A pill for this, an injection for that, a warning that there were terrible illnesses beyond the sea. You know, should we decide to travel “away”. I was feeling magnanimous, so the dog got all the right stuff. We’ll be back for boosters in a few weeks, and I can throw the nasty tick collar away; he has been given a needle against the tiny arachnids (something I learned, today, from a wall poster that the dog didn’t bother to read). And now we’re home, and there are two more dogs in the room (we’re sitting for the neighbour). Much louder than usual, and all the bag of kibble and the bowls are arrayed out of reach. Thieving hounds!
