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When OH said this morning that Monster hadn’t eaten his midnight snack or his breakfast, I stood in the field, whilst feeding the Oldies, and phoned the veterinary surgery for an appointment (we were in the middle of a powercut and that’s the only place for a phone signal).
“Can you get here for 09.45” I was asked by the Surgery.
“Oh yes, whatever it takes”, I replied and shovelled Monster into his travel basket (he put up a fight, which I won) and off we drove.
In the surgery waiting room I gave Monster a good view to inspire him.
All vital signs were normal, nothing to write home about, but he was given an anti-emetic injection, long acting antibiotic injection as well as some painkillers and we drove home, with Monster answering any questions I asked him.
Me (driving): “are you ok?”
Monster: “Yes, still here!”
And so to bed afterwards. Fair enough. Travel is always horrid.
This afternoon, Monster was around in my shed while a friend and I played flute duets.
He even wanted a shot and probably sounded better than we did.
But I am worried.
OH said he wouldn’t eat his tea – freshly cooked chicken. Nope. Monster left it and turned away. That is not like him.
And has taken to his bed. Worried? Yes, I am. For Monster not to eat is like me giving up chocolate. We will see how we go this weekend or it is back to the vet we go on Monday. So hugs for Monster, please. He is not himself and I hate that.
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