Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
taneously relieving himself at the other, he was behaving like a fountain in a town square. So
my first few minutes at home were spent mopping up urine while being eyed hungrily by a
family of feline predators, at which point Thérence decided to dump something so heavy into
his nappy it looked like he was wearing bungee pants. Home sweet home.
All dogs, it seems, have a sixth sense about vets. They know almost as soon as you put them
in the car that they aren't actually going for a nice walk by the river, but to have their gib-
lets prodded at by a man in a white coat. You can't blame them for being wary. We have a
choice of two vets where we live. One, who we initially went to when we first moved here, is
a tall, brusque man whose bushy, black beard always displays remnants of pâté and baguette
and who, according to Natalie's grandparents, had shown insufficient care to their absurdly
pampered poodle, to the point of murderous neglect. It is not a reputation most vets would
cherish, but one that he clearly revels in as only the most needy and desperate owners make
appointments with him, leaving him plenty of time for golf or something. The other vet is a
scatty lady from Belgium whose French isn't very good and who the locals don't really trust,
partly because she's foreign and partly because she's a woman. She also has a boyfriend who
lurks around her surgery like Igor from
Frankenstein
and who quite clearly hates people. He
is, I think, a disturbed young man, an attitude I put down to the fact that he only has one
eyebrow which looks like an angry caterpillar above his piercing blue eyes - like Bert from
Sesame Street
.
He also fancies himself as some kind of Dog Whisperer and like anybody who thinks they
have a 'gift', takes himself very seriously indeed. I once took Volcan, my mod-hating Brittany
spaniel, there for an injection and the vet had delegated 'Bert' to perform the task; I needed
to get Volcan to lie on his back, he indicated. I laughed and said it couldn't be done, Volcan
being about as playful and obedient as a cluster bomb. 'Bert' looked at me and snorted, he put
his hands either side of Volcan's head, looked into the dog's eyes for a full minute and then in
a blur of movement that was part wrestling move and part origami had the astonished dog on
his back and loving it! It was actually quite impressive. However, instead of taking the op-
portunity to inject the animal he righted Volcan and grunted that I should try the same thing.
Normally one to shirk a challenge, but feeling slightly intimidated, I took Volcan's head in my
hands, stared into his distrusting eyes and then for what seemed like five minutes I scuffled
with the wretched animal like we were two drunken teenagers getting off with each other at
a party. It was all very ignominious and in the end 'Bert' had to separate us before I was the
one that received the injection.
Thankfully 'Bert' wasn't around this time, which was a relief to both me and Pierrot - al-
though, to be fair, the poor animal was somewhat preoccupied anyway what with blood
samples, injections and having a vet's fingers shoved up his backside. All of which proved
fruitless, unfortunately, as the vet was left clueless as to what his current malaise might be.
She checked for diabetes, she checked his liver and kidneys; she gave him a right going over
