Bloody Outstanding!

Some vets are really SMART.

We all know an empathetic and very patient nature an oh-h yes...affinity for animals are essential, if not prescribed, in the blueprint and job description for a standard veterinary surgeon.

A certain type relationship or chemistry must exist between vet and animal-patient. But a Masters in “Psychology” and “Manual & Handling” certificate for the aspects of demanding, freaking and neurotic pet-owners is more than vitally important...

Working for a short time at a veterinary hospital years ago, I once spat outrage at another understanding employee as I fumed rage once object of affliction left the building:

“That bloody bitch ought to get spayed – and not the poor little Maltese!!!”

One really needs a special personality in order to cope in that environment, and since those days I’ve been weaned off any noble ideas of becoming a vet, animal behaviorist or veterinary nurse. I can’t cope with idiotic owners and buckets of blood...

Last week I had an entertaining day at the veterinary practice. The owner had taken the initiative to re-think who and what he ought to employ to push up monthly turnovers. He recruited two new freshly qualified vets, both blond and golden skinned like some escapee Greek gods with their graduation cloaks hardly gathering dust yet – a male and a female.

I’m not certain if this strategy is focused solely on healing sick or unhappy animals and think maybe the old shrewd vet had an ulterior motive. He took into consideration how a young fresh-faced vet would affect pet owners not only in the health department but also the retail section of a practice. More people go back for more than collecting their mongrels or pedigreed poochy-poos these days. They also seem to lavish their darling pets now with excessively full bags of cattle-hooves, pig-ears, collars, balls, shampoos, de-flea-worming stuff, joint supplements and anything else under the sun just for the privilege of setting eyes on these new vets.

The “sting” has virtually been taken out of the visiting the “VET” as well as paying astronomical amounts of hard-earned cash with a smile either for a consultation, back-breaking hospitalization, medicine top-ups and any other pet-groceries...

I’m not sure though if one could say “all’s fair in vets & war” when I notice other vulnerable single women (like me) or men drooling in front cat or dog food shelves as we pretend to take our time choosing what flavor our poochies want. Must also admit to having partially joined this throng of gullible singles skulking shyly around just to find out what happened to certain homeless litters or whether finding a tick on one’s pup could have deadly effects...just to see The Vet. The Gorgeous, Scrumptious young and new VET.

I fetched Harry-cat last week after my dream-vet had to drain a nasty abscess. The cat-fellow slammed his cute deformed paws into my new flatteringly low-cut purple shirt. Apparently avenging his abandonment for a whole day. Keys in one hand, dog hooves and antibiotics locked in my other hand, handbag tucked under one arm, I was left completely unable to do anything but hold kitty-cat frozen between clenched hands, right in front of me.

His front claws were grooved into the folds of my shirt in the region between upper-stomach and stuff that rose above the occasion.

Silence erupted as the receptionist abruptly lost her usual babbly abilities. And the girl carrying in cups of late afternoon tea nearly burned her hands to cooked meat. Dr. Vet tried with intense surgical concentration in gorgeous sky-blue eyes, methodically undid Harry’s iron grip. Each time however, a freed paw yet again slammed wildly and with sedated confusion back into the perfectly same spot as before. He nearly shred the fabric to rags, but I hardly cared as my eyes watched fascinated how my vet, with something close to knighthood, tried freeing me and Harry from the de-stressing obscurity of de–dressing in front of a wide-eyed audience...

Strange things we do or say amidst times like these when our shameless thoughts seem to skirt into all possible corners... Of course I had to go blurting out: “Oh, this is so funny!”

Nails, claws, beautiful hands, paws, long human fingers, toes... Eventually a cacophony of relieved voices and applause broke loose as he eventually executed the complex operation of freeing us both, successfully. Done without any ruptures except maybe for my and Harry’s raggedy pride.

Oh, it’s been a while since I had watched such skill from such tender hands, of someone so damn sexy and darn...so unbelievably young to be a vet yet.

E-r, in case you know of anyone who needs someone to take a little coochy-coo to an outstanding practice with a personal touch, please tell them I’m available.