A pity party

I'm feeling very sorry for myself just now. So stop reading right here if you want cheering up.

My skin's been really itchy for a couple of weeks. Especially my paws. They itch so much it makes me want to lick them over and over again, especially at night. And now my left front paw's all red and sore and I can't bear to put any weight on it. The right one doesn't feel to good either. I can only hobble a few feet, I need Gail to carry me up and down stairs, and I'm so miserable, I've lost all my energy and enthusiasm for life. All I want to do is lie on the sofa, all floppy.

So this afternoon we went to see Ian the vet at Ardene House. Ian has a long face that fits my current mood. He brings to mind the quote about not confusing a Scotsman with a ray of sunshine* . He always looks like he's about to bear bad news, and I can't help but think that he really should have been an undertaker.

Anyway, usual story at the vets. Getting my revenge in first, I try to bite Ian before he hurts me. Quickly a muzzle is produced and I'm restricted to aggressive jaw grinding. After a bit of poking around, and, unbelievably, Ian telling me to "think calm thoughts Hamish" (calm, CALM, you've gotta be joking mate, you're a VET!!!!), I'm released from the muzzle, then Gail is released from a large amount of cash in exchange for some small packets of pills and we go home.


* "It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine." P.G. Wodehouse