I had to stand outside for a while, but once in, didn't have to wait long. It was all very bright, clean and high-tec and everyone was nice. The crowd in the waiting room of poor people and their beloved animals was really quite moving.
The vet didn't seem to think it was that urgent to scale Wotan's few remaining teeth, and warned that any anaesthetic at his age carried some risk. He also said he seemed in generally good condition, and it would probably be OK...So, I don't know; I've arranged to have it done on Dec 13th, so there's time to bottle out. Wotan himself, was unusually well behaved; quite curious and co-operative in the surgery, so that was a relief. Getting him up and down the big flight of stairs and scary bridge at the station wasn't much fun, though. R was surprised that nobody helped me. I'm not the kind of girlie that gets offers of help, usually. When I do, it freaks me out, actually, as I think I must be looking really old and wobbly. Ah well. I'm just delighted to have that done with.
There's a TV programme on about this poor gonk with obsessive compulsive disorder, who spends his whole life lining up packets in the fridge,etc. and tweaking his nipples twelve times after each ritual- (And that's why he doesn't like cricket!) He hadn't been outdoors in twelve years, but his poor wife finally got him to take a break in Blackpool. Then, he had a 'crisis'. He's been like that for 40 years (!!!)He's had very little useful medical help, from the sound of it. Makes me angry. I nearly blew my top watching another TV show about poor 'hard-working' types who were given incorrectly high family credit allowances,through no fault of theirs, and are now expected to pay it all back. They're really suffering.
Ah well,I see Mr Blunkett has been allowed to keep his grace and favour abode, and continues to dwell in marble halls. Ain't that nice?