The last time I had a dog who was never ill was William the Springer spaniel. As dogs go he was as tough as old boots, was as daft as a brush and a real character! His was the only vet that I was never on first name terms with.
My rescued golden, Major was unwell from the word go.... A visit to the vet happened so often that I knew all the vets, the nurses and receptionists by their first names. He had appalling skin problems that could never be cured, merely contained.
Crispin the golden has always enjoyed good health....his problems have always been self inflicted....treading on broken glass in the river, swallowing a peach, whose stone caused a severe bowl problem that nearly killed him! A fight with two black labs left him with a torn ear and the need to be castrated.
So I know all the vets round here by their first names too! Our favourite is Tom. He operated on a skin cancer two summers ago and gave Crispin two extra years of life.
I've already had preliminary talks with Tom. Because the day is fast approaching....
It is a fine line between not wanting to feel guilty because I've acted too soon and not wanting to feel bad because I've caused him to suffer....the line is not clear cut. Some days like yesterday was a bad one...I went to bed resolved "to do something" so this morning he's not bad at all!
He is starting to remind me of the old lady who had the last rites at least five times...each time she picked up wonderfully.
I hope I'm not sounding flippant here....he is my first thought in the morning and my last at night.....he is a very big, strong dog still....the chances of him sleeping away are remote....
Lord hear my prayers.