“WHAT`S THAT, BOY? TIMMY`S FALLEN DOWN THE WELL?”...
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM…
Happy New Year
MAD AS A BOX OF FROGS
OFF WE GO!
EMAIL ME .
Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.
"IN DOG YEARS, I`M DEAD"
Sunday, August 15, 2010
My only previous experience of this op was with a tomcat named Freddie. Freddie ranged far and wide, and only came home, it seemed, when he required medical attention.
One morning, after a week`s absence, I heard him running down the lane, calling as he came, and I knew by the sound of it he was in trouble. One ear was swollen shut. Straight to vet.
I left him there for treatment, and when I came to collect him, the vets were still laughing.
It seems that on his little trip, Freddie had caught earmites, probably from a holiday romance . (I dread to think what she got out of it...) Anyway, he had scratched the ear, and with his sharp cat claws had caused a haematoma, a blood blister which had swollen up and closed the ear. This lack of an escape route had not troubled the earmites, which had gone on with their daily life, reproducing like...well, like earmites. “And when we drained it, and opened the ear the huge number of earmites had built up such a pressure that they were hitting the opposite wall – it was like opening a champagne bottle.”
Somehow I was quite glad to have escaped this jolly event.
Meanwhile, I have ongoing computer problems and may be offline for a time.
I can no doubt use the time this will free up by contributing still more to the the Vet Retirement Fund.