Vet’nry call up – nursing my very sad Sproodle pup

I knew that it wouldn’t be the last time I donned my veterinary boots when I popped them back on the welly rack last year. Having successfully diagnosed grass seed in my dog’s ear, applied ear drops in almost death defying circumstances (Dottie really didn’t take kindly to the ear drops), quickly followed by removing a tick from my friends’ dog’s eyelid, I realised that my latest vocation as a vet was perhaps a little more irksome than my original boots of softest sheepskin inside joy from A C Hare had led me to believe (apparently they are so comfortable and long wearing – and beautiful – that they are bought by lots of vets).

I retired graciously from the vet game but always knew I would need to pull my boots back on one day for more than just a dog walk plodge or a cool lady about town with wafty dress but workaday boots.

That time is now. After a traumatic lady operation, my mentor vet (who had talked me through two phone call grass seed removal ops) wasn’t sure who was trembling more as I left Dottie in their less well booted company. I am actually in Birkenstocks as the weather is a little warm for boots but all my vet senses are on high alert – possibly because she whimpered through most of the night so I am a little tired.

I have carried the patient from room to room as necessary, making sure her little stitches reamain intact (I am not sure my darning skills are up to actual surgery sewing), but I have surgically carved holes into slices of sausage and inserted the anti inflammatorys with a skilled and confident hand, I have protected her delicate ears from the noise of the binmen (this usually initiates a leap to the window and at least five minutes of fearsome barking and leaping) and I have closed the gate to all gentleman callers (even her Spaniel pal Teg who came all the way up the lane on his own to see how she was yesterday).

I feel saddened that my excellent vet’nry skills should only be enjoyed by one dog but thankful that there won’t be a litter of crazy spaniel Sproodles chewing my timber framed cottage beam by beam in the future.