‘The reason vets are so expensive now,’ explained the vet in her snazzy green uniform, ‘is because we can do so much more.’
I was standing in the waiting room of the veterinary practice with the silly name: the corporate, expensively branded chain vet I said I would never go to, but have to when the sensible Israeli chap I prefer is booked up.
I tried to say nothing but sadly this wasn’t possible. ‘Yes, but that doesn’t make doing more right, does it? I mean, putting wheels on a dog, is that right?’
She looked back at me askance. She had her RSPCA magazine on the coffee table. I suppose it won’t be long before it’s an offence under the Animal Welfare Act not to put wheels on a dog. You’ll be charged with failing an animal’s needs if you refuse to give a dog a heart transplant or kidney dialysis or a sex change if it squats instead of cocking its leg.
We were arguing because she had asked if I had insurance after I brought Cydney in shaking her head. I suspected a grass seed was lodged in her ear, which would be the second this summer. Last year both Cyd and Poppy had them within a few days of each other.
I asked this vet to check her thoroughly because she wasn’t shaking her head as much as last time and so maybe it was something else. She put Cydney on the table and began looking for her ear examination tool, which was hanging up right next to her. She ignored me pointing to it and wandered out the back. I could hear her asking her assistant, so I called out: ‘Excuse me! Your ear thing is here!’ The assistant came and took it and handed it to the vet as she came back in.
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