A Visit to the Vet

After his week's elope with the Siberian beauty, Sputnik returned home thinner, dirty, and scarred. He had been staying at Cuz's Supermarket at the end of the road, but although we had tried several times to bring him back, he always found a way to return to his lady, the Ice Queen – so we let them be in their love nest between the gas bottles and the water tanks.

The Acolyte's blood had come off, but he still had some oil stains on his coat. “You should see the back of the supermarket,” Sophia said. “It's disgusting. No wonder he's filthy!” He had a bare patch on his hip, his ears had been bitten, and he had a cough.

“Dissolute living!” I told him as I poured his breakfast kibble. “There's always a price.”

But when Sophia noticed a trail of bright red blood under his tail after yesterday's walk, I decided that the time had come to visit the vet.

“Which vet do you use?” is a constant topic among Paphos pet owners. After much trial and error, I have cast my lot with Paphiakos who also run the largest animal welfare in the district. They are open 0700-1900 every day of the year (although clinic hours are shorter), have bi-lingual staff, clean premises, a tea-room, and plenty of love to go around. Also, their prices are well within the reasonable range.

We arrived at 8.40 and spent the twenty minute wait in the tea room with two enormous cats, two nescafes, and thick slices of banana nut loaf. Overwhelmed by his ride in the back of the Land Rover (“Mum, do you think that Sputnik hates cars so much because he associates them with having been abandoned on the road, probably from a car, and he thinks that we're taking him somewhere to dump him?”), Sputnik didn't know what to do with himself: he had to smell everything at once, to see everything, to investigate the cats, the cake, the outdoors.

The vet gave him a thorough examination, and pronounced him 'healthy, but a bit run down' when we told her of his escapades. “He's been very stressed, very excited,” she said. “He didn't eat well while he was away, and his immune system suffered.” (Why does that remind me of another adolescent male that I know?) “That's why he has an overgrowth of skin parasites that are normally present but controlled.”

“I don't want to put him on anti-biotics for his cough,” she continued, as his lungs are clear of fluid. “But if you notice that it gets worse, that he stops eating, or see more blood, bring him in again.” She gave me a worming tablet for him, and instructions for a thorough bath.

On the trip back he looked out of the window with interest rather than angst, and sprawled on the floor of the back while I nipped into Carrefour to see if I could find any gloves for the Littles (I did – the last two pairs of a size that will fit). When we got home, Sophia bathed him – to his disgust – and he's now sleeping in the sunshine.

The bill – for half an hour appointment with a full examination, two diagnostic tests (fungus and parasites), and a worm pill? Forty-six Euros. Seemed reasonable to me.

Lizzie

>

We have acquired a dog… again.

Last week I was driving up from the main Paphos to Limassol road to our village, and just when the road began its series of S-bends to reach the first plateau a small golden bitch ran out into the road and began frantically dashing up and down the centre line. I slowed to a crawl, she went out in front of me, then ran back to the other side almost under the wheels of an oncoming car that stopped with a screech. Desperate, searching, she ran to the side of the road, so I … pulled to the hard shoulder and called her. And she came. Timid, yet almost delirious with joy, she jumped into the front seat and we drove home.

Best Beloved was clipping the row of vines that line the concrete road after the turn off, and as I slowed down to talk to him, his gaze drifted to my new companion.

“No!” he said. “Not another Pathetic Life Form”

“It’s all right,” I reassured him. “I’ll take her to the Shelter on the way to drama class.”

But both Zenon and Sophia fell in love with her, and even I – who don’t like dogs as a rule – was a little smitten. She was quiet and well behaved, yet a happy, benign presence.

We took her to the Shelter as promised, but I said to Annie, the custodian, “I’m tipping that I’ll be back for her in a week…”

Best Beloved and I talked about keeping her over the next few days. We have a fundamental difference of opinion about animals. He doesn’t like pets, tolerating dogs – except working dogs – hardly at all, and certainly not in the house. I grew up with pets, and although I’m not partial to dogs, believe that keeping a dog in a cage – all the responsibility but none of the joy – is wrong. On the other hand, Cyprus is a hot place in the summer and dog smell and dog hair in the house is not very pleasant.

We tried a few dogs that found us and we kept because Zenon’s pleas moved us to ‘try just one more time’. Sam the Beagle was beautiful, stoic, great with Zeen, and thick as two planks. He went to the shelter after an unmanageable month. Lucy the Border collie was bright and beautiful – so bright that she could not cope with loneliness in the pen where we kept her, and drove us nuts with her barking. We re-homed her with a nice English family who gave her all the love and attention that she demanded.

We decided to stay petless – until Lizzie, that is.

Mili’s smaller dog having died last summer, Mili had a vacant pen, so she agreed that we could move it to our land for Lizzie. Nepalese L came Saturday and spent the morning levelling ground in a shady spot under a carob tree close to the house, and building a platform so that the winter rain will not flood her out, then with great ceremony he, Best Beloved, Alex, and I moved the pen into its new position and secured it.

On Sunday, I drove to the shelter to collect her and bring her home.

She has settled in quickly. Exuberant with the children and me, she takes us for walks in the early morning or at dusk; respectful to Best Beloved, she has earned his grudging ‘I suppose she’s not bad for a dog!’

Let’s see how it all works out.