It's a bad day for Naughty George

Poor Naughty George, my faithful yet recalcitrant mutt. A couple of weeks ago I took him to a Vetinarian because he kept randomly gasping for breath, which didn't bode well for a dog that is 16 years old (or thereabouts). He was diagnosed with a throat infection (which was treated successfully with anti-biotics), but whilst he was being examined, the Vet noticed that Naughty George needed some work doing on his teeth.

The trouble was that the work would require a General Anaesthetic, which is always a big thing for an old dog,...........and today was the day of his operation.

Pic.No.1. Naughty George in the back of the car

I bundled him into the back of the car and set off for the Vetinary Surgery on Iffley Road, in Oxford. I always drive carefully with Naughty George in the car because dogs have a design flaw which makes car travel hazardous; in the event of any hard braking, dogs don't have anything to prevent forward momentum other than their face. 

We finally arrived at the Vetinary Surgery and I sensed some resistance from Naughty George who was dragged into the reception area / waiting room without taking a single step. 

Pic.No.2. The waiting room of doom containing lots of pet accessories, and pet owners wondering what the hell I was doing taking photographs (a blogging hazard)

The Receptionist behind the desk looked up at me; "Can I help?" 

"Yes," I replied, "I have an appointment this morning for my dog."

"What's his name?" asked the Receptionist, consulting her diary. 

"Naughty George," I replied, and a ripple of laughter went round the waiting room. 

The other pet owners decided to take advantage of the joie de vivre, starting with a woman who held her rabbit aloft and joked, 'you're safe Robin! I have rescued you from Naughty Geroge.' [A rabbit called Robin? I ask you]. A couple of other people joined in the comedy 'saving' of their pets from Naughty George, even though the whole time NG had been steadfastly beside me with his tail between his legs, looking distinctly pissed off by the proceedings. 

After a few minutes in the waiting room, the Vet appeared and beckoned me into the consulting room. 

Pic.No.3. The consulting room of doom

"Ok," she said, "I just have to do a final health check on Naughty George to make sure he is fit enough to have the anaesthetic."

She listened to his heart, had a look in his mouth, weighed him, and consulted the results of a blood test that had been taken during the last visit.

"Yes," she nodded, "he should be fine." Then as an aside she added; "he's not naughty."

"Don't let him lull you into a false sense of security," I said, "everyone always says that when they first meet him."

She looked at me disbelievingly with an expression that hinted .......  'it must be you'. [just you wait, I thought to myself.]

"Anyway," she said, changing the subject; "you can leave Naughty George with us, and come and pick him up at 4pm."

I drove back to work feeling sad that I had left poor Naughty George to his fate, and worrying whether or not he would be ok.

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I returned to the Vets at 4pm and approached the receptionist with trepidation.

"Did everything go ok?" I asked her nervously.

"Absolutely fine," she said, then added, "he's the only dog that we've ever known wake up from a General Anaesthetic barking."

That's my mutt!

The Receptionist continued, "and he's the only dog we've ever known to continue barking all afternoon."

"Can I see him?" I asked.

"Yes, no problem. Could you settle the bill so that we can release him from care," she replied, printing off a invoice and handing it to me.

I looked at the total and reeled ...... £361.86 ($558.63)!

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed, " I could raise a herd of dogs for five years for that price."

The Receptionist remained unmoved, and I handed over my Debit Card making her pull it from my grasp.

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Naughty George was subsequently returned to me, unsteady on his feet and looking a bit zonked, so I lifted him gently into the car so that we could go home.

Pic.No.4. Forlorn George in the back of the car, spreading his paws to try and steady himself

Poor Naughty George, he hasn't been himself since we got back ..... he has looked understandably wobbly and miserable. Give him a couple of weeks and he will have that California smile back.....................