Traumatic times at the vets.

Rocco last year

A neighbour kindly gave us a bone for Rocco on Monday. It was a cooked gammon one, as far as we can recall. It is not the best idea to give bones that have been cooked to dogs as they can splinter. Previously Rocco has had no problem with these bones, he eats an end then Judy will scoop out the marrow for him. However this time we think bone fragments have caused him considerable discomfort. He did not eat on Tuesday and was constipated, yesterday he was no better so we took him to MediVet.

The lady vet was the kind of angel everybody would hope to look after them in moments of need. Poor Rocco was desperately embarrassed by her attentions and remained constipated, he stayed with them for an x-ray and further overnight treatment. At the time of writing he is still there. The walk this morning was one where I had three young daytime guests romping about in wonderful spring sunshine whilst Bobby put on a show of his lightning speed (ignored by Mooli). I wished my pal was with us.


(Edit 23 March, Rocco cheerfully came home last night and almost back to normal).
(Edit 26 March, normal service resumed).

A dog and bone story – When I was a fourteen, on a family holiday in Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, I took Rolley, our Labrador retriever, for an afternoon walk, we started on a green by the yacht club then a beach until a path took us through some woods eventually reaching a country church. The vicar was conducting a burial in the churchyard, well attended by soberly dressed mourners.

What followed was pure gothic horror. Rolley disappeared amongst the grassy tombstones only to surface with a large bone in his mouth decorated by earth, grass and dried blood. He dashed amongst the scattering crowd of mourners, to proudly present me with the bone. I had vamoosed back into the wood. The bone was from an ox, showing traces of a butcher’s saw. I never walked through that wood again.