Drugged!

647242936Readers, I don’t know where to start.  I have had a TERRIBLE twenty-four hours!  Yesterday morning I was still limping very badly, and just couldn’t put my front right paw to the ground.  It was extremely painful and I was very subdued, to make it clear that it was very painful.  There was some discussion, after googling out-of-hours vet fees, about whether I could wait until today to see the Evil Vet, thus saving a hefty £109 Bank Holiday fee, or whether it was unkind to leave me in pain for the sake of money.  How nice of them to consider this.  Lad and He both said leave it till tomorrow, just give him some painkillers, but She was overcome with concern for me and took me to the Evil Vet, trying not to think about the out-of-hours fee.  Readers, it was dreadful.  First of all the Evil Vet put a muzzle on me, as I am well-known there for trying to attack, and then started to investigate my paw.  Well.  I screeched whenever she touched me, and in the end the Evil Vet said it can’t all hurt, Russell, stop making a fuss.  I tried hard, Friends, to calm myself down a little, and in the end the Evil Vet established that I screeched most when a slightly swollen part was touched.  Though I did screech if she touched my slightly-split toenail, too.  The verdict was that I have a swollen knuckle, but how this injury happened is a mystery as I simply went from lying to standing, fairly slowly.

You would think that was enough trauma for one morning, but oh no.  The Evil Vet decided that I needed an injection of heavy-duty painkillers, with the warning that I might appear ‘stoned’ for the rest of the day (the Evil Vet and She laughed about this.)  I’ve no idea what this meant.  Then the Evil Vet came at me with a needle.  Despite my muzzle and being wrestled to the ground and sat on by She, I still managed to scream and writhe around as the Evil Vet hovered over me.  She hadn’t yet shoved the needle in, but that’s not the point.  The Evil Vet then said, Russell I haven’t done it yet, you’re not a very brave dog are you, and jabbed the bldy needle in my neck.  I howled in pain and thrashed around the floor of the surgery with She trying to hold onto me.  It was AWFUL.  The Evil Vet remarked that I wasn’t having a very good Bank Holiday so far, but not to worry, as the drugs would soon be working and I’d be in a far happier place.  Now, you would think that this really had been enough trauma for the morning, but oh no.  Do you know what She said then?  As we have to pay Bank Holiday fees, can I get my money’s worth and ask you to squeeze his anal glands while we’re here, as they’re leaking everywhere.  I kid you not, Readers, unbelievable.  And so it was that I was then attacked again by the Evil Vet, this time with KY Jelly smeared fingers up my backside, to have my anal glands drained.  This hurt and I screamed again.  “Get my money’s worth,” for goodness sake!

What a dreadful morning.  Once we returned home, I was ok for about ten minutes, and then the drugs began to work.  Oh my word.  I remember nothing, but I’m told my eyes became liquid pools of unfocused brown, and the pupils disappeared altogether. I sat, with my head hanging down, apparently, for the rest of the day.  Sometimes I lay down, but was completely unable to control the weight of my head and it just hung there.

20180528_164706  I was unable to eat, walk properly, look at anything or function in any way at all.  I have no idea what that drug was, but I imagine it’s normally used for horses or animals ten times my size.  That’s a whole day of my life lost, Readers, as I was far, far away in another galaxy altogether.  On the plus side I didn’t walk on my sore paw for the entire day, which has probably helped it to heal.  The effects of this heavy duty gear has lasted over twenty-four hours, and I’m not completely back to normal yet; though I did run out in the garden and eat some bread from under the bird table just now.  I’m not limping quite as much and She hasn’t phoned up to pay the bill yet, as She is too scared to find out what it is.  Cowardly.

This was all very disappoitning, as we have Nana aged 87 staying with us, and I would normally be much livelier and more fun for a guest.  However, Nana aged 87 hasn’t minded me tripping out on strong medication for much of her stay, and has been very kind to me.  It’s been lovely having her here (as far as I know.)  Today She took Nana aged 87 to Costalotta for lunch, where the baristas were again surprised to see some splashing out on cheese toasties and cups of tea.  This doesn’t usually happen. Nana aged 87 then had to listen to Young Lad’s homework, and everyone agreed he hadn’t done enough.  Young Lad was told to put more effort into it, which is a recurrent theme for him.  Lad has been revising and discussing academic things with Nana aged 87, and has even done useful things like get the washing in when it started raining.  This wouldn’t have happened if Nana aged 87 wasn’t here, and is all for show, to be honest.

Last night, Young Lad had a cricket match.  I wasn’t taken because I was too stoned, so was left here with Lad and Nana aged 87, plus Lovelydor from down the road who came up for a cup of tea.  Lovelydor and Nana aged 87 had a super time, and shouted out orders for sandwiches and cake to Lad, who obligingly did the catering for them.  Lad’s repertoire of sandwiches wasn’t huge – cheese, cheese and pickle, or cheese and ham – but he tried.  What they lacked in finesse (cutting into two big slab-like rectangles isn’t very afternoon tea, in all honesty) they made up for with effort.  There was also lemon drizzle cake and home-made shortbread, but I was too out of it to even clear up the crumbs.  And I like both lemon drizzle and shortbread normally.  

Well. To add insult to injury, they’ve just announced they’re going to Pizza Express for dinner.  This is, again, only because Nana aged 87 is here.  It means there will be no dinner here for me to scrounge, which is a poor show, considering what I have been through in the last twenty-four hours.  I’m lying in my chair pretending I’m still drugged up to the eyeballs, in the hope that they don’t push the lemon drizzle to the back of the working surface while they’re out.

I’m exhausted.  See you soon,

Russell

Author: boredbeagle

Slightly stocky beagle who lives with a family. This is She, He, Lad and Young Lad. And Gingercat. Generally doesn't get enough attention and so writes this blog to let everyone know what his life is like. You need to start from page one (First Attempt).. Go on, it's worth the effort.

4 thoughts on “Drugged!”

  1. Oh no! Get better soon Russell. How awful for you. At least you haven’t been dragged out for longbldywalks, unnecessarily.

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  2. Oh Russell you poor thing. I hope you feel better very soon. Come to Clacton one day and have a lovely slow wander on the beach. It will do you the power of good!!xx

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