Well, yesterday we took Charlie to the new vet I mentioned previously. It went very well. The interior felt airy and spacious; they have three consulting rooms with three vets in at one time (according to their blurb there are 6 in total). It was open surgery so we popped down when we liked and were able to go straight in once I’d given his details to reception. The vet we saw was very pleasant – I couldn’t quite place her accent – she had a very distinct way of saying ‘Charlie’ (Charlie thought it sounded rather exotic). He behaved himself very well, was thoroughly examined and weighed and didn’t flinch when he had the injection. He never seems to feel them which is just as well!
‘He has very thick skin,’ she said, and she wasn’t speaking metaphorically! I think now how much easier I find Charlie to handle than in the early days, and he’s much better at it too. At one point she had him dangled over one arm while she reached for something and he simply hung there looking sheepish (I think he liked her accent).
I asked to have his teeth properly examined because he’s had this wonky expression lately. It makes him very photogenic (in a funny way) but I didn’t want there to be a problem. Apparently he has got a spur on one of his lower back teeth but it is very small and unlikely to be causing him any trouble. If it gets bigger or he shows problems eating (Charlie?!! Problems eating?!! He has problems digesting but never ingesting…) they’ll have to do something but it’s all right for now. She asked me if we’d ever had anything done to his teeth and I replied that we hadn’t, and she responded that they were in very good condition. So that‘s good.
Often I think, with both Charlie and the poor guinea pigs, if I knew then what I know now… I have to chalk it up to experience. Every now and then I come across photos of the guineas and it still gives me a real pang. They were such dear little creatures. I may, once the pang lessens, make a couple of scrapbook pages of them. I’ve actually started doing one (very slowly) of my old dog Misty, who died a couple of years ago. I wasn’t there when she died and always felt an oddness in my sadness, an unfinished-ness. Doing this has helped me remember her and feel glad of her, if that makes sense. I’ve not got very far, but it’s giving me practise in scrapbooking:
I’m not sure about using the silver brads for her name here. I may re-do that bit a different way at some point. This photo was one of the last before she died.
As a puppy, a pair of my dad’s old socks were a terrific hit. She would run around with them partially obscuring her face. It was desperately cute!
Demonstrating the need for pond covers when any baby mammals are present! However to Misty this was just an extra thing to walk on.
Her paws looked huge on her as a puppy. We called them her ‘lion cub paws’…
If this is a little unclear, she’s lying upside down in her bed. She had no real concept of dignity… After her dinner in the conservatory she would often give a huge belch, and if my mum was in there she was seriously worried the neighbours would think it was her! Of course, there was the other end too…although Bonnie, our black Labrador was the other queen of those. She made herself look at her rear end in surprise sometimes.
Hmmm. I’m thinking I should change the subject now?!
Oh, Liam came over this morning and fitted a new shower for us (hurrah!) and a mixer tap on the kitchen sink (double hurrah!). The shower’s been playing up for ages, and since we had a new boiler put in last year the hot tap got so hot in the kitchen that you could actually burn your fingers when you touched it. Me turning it off went something like this: twist, ‘Ow!’, twist, ‘Ow!’, twist, ‘Ow, ow , OW!’ Not that I ever got grumpy with it or anything. Ahem.
Energy levels: 4-5/10
Headache: medium high