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So I'm at the park, playing football with Spike - Squish has scented something in the big hedge at the bottom of the park and abandoned the game in order to thrash up and down the hedge in hot pursuit of whatever the hell it was. He even froze on point a couple of times, and I was just admiring his working style when I noticed that one of his front legs was bright red.... I called him over and saw the blood literally pouring out of a cut halfway up the leg. His fur was so soaked with it I couldn't even tell how big or how deep it was, but he left bloody pawprints all the way home.
I mopped him up a little in the kitchen, and discovered that the cut was only about an inch and a half long, but bone-deep, and apparently involved a fair-sized vein, since it soaked right through the bandage and still trickled onto the floor over an hour later, in the vet's surgery.
And then came the really bad part. The vet decided it was too deep for staples, and stitches require anaesthesia - and that meant leaving him there overnight. As I signed the anaesthesia consent form at the reception desk, I could hear his voice, yelping and crying like a little girl in the back room - and by this time he wasn't the only one crying.
I hope he's calmed down now. I haven't.
And Captain Spike is no bloody help at all - he's far too fixated on the cat to have even noticed the scary, Squishless quiet of the house... It's going to be a bloody long night.
Oh, and it was too late for Sainsbury's by the time I got back - not that I'm in a fit state for it anyway. Oh well.
I mopped him up a little in the kitchen, and discovered that the cut was only about an inch and a half long, but bone-deep, and apparently involved a fair-sized vein, since it soaked right through the bandage and still trickled onto the floor over an hour later, in the vet's surgery.
And then came the really bad part. The vet decided it was too deep for staples, and stitches require anaesthesia - and that meant leaving him there overnight. As I signed the anaesthesia consent form at the reception desk, I could hear his voice, yelping and crying like a little girl in the back room - and by this time he wasn't the only one crying.
I hope he's calmed down now. I haven't.
And Captain Spike is no bloody help at all - he's far too fixated on the cat to have even noticed the scary, Squishless quiet of the house... It's going to be a bloody long night.
Oh, and it was too late for Sainsbury's by the time I got back - not that I'm in a fit state for it anyway. Oh well.
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Bummer about Sainsbury's, though....
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:D
*ducks*
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I'm sure he's in good hands, and will be back at it in no time flat.
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