The Waiting Room

We rang the vet yesterday, and got an appointment for 12.15 today. Here is Molly, sitting patiently, waiting to be seen.

The upshot is that she does have a little blood in her urine, and her temperature is slightly up; so yes, she does have an infection. But the vet is hopeful that we have caught it in time, and that a new prescription of antibiotics will do the trick.

Molly is so co-operative when she's at the clinic. Everyone she has ever seen has commented on this. Even Inga, whom we had never actually met ourselves, could remember Molly from when she had her major treatments 2 and a half years ago. At that time, she spent several days in the Vets' hospital before being sent over to the Dick Vet just outside Edinburgh.

(Her co-operation extends to allowing (just!) the thermometer to be put up her bum. Jess had also been ill when very young, and we had to get a doggy-thermometer so we could take regular readings. The first time we got it out, it was still in its box - she could not possibly have seen what it was. We had not said a single word about thermometer or temperature or 'Come Here' - but she knew. Before we could unwrap this instrument of torture, Jess was off to the furthest point of the garden!)

Anyway, Molly is looking better already. She is not limping as badly, and the house has been dryer than yesterday. Long may it continue.