On Saturday Rachelle and I took our dog to the Bathurst-Dupont Animal Hospital to get her shots. Heidi, our Miniature Dachshund, couldn’t have been happier to be on an outing. Tail wagging, she bulled up the street as if she was off to open all the Christmas presents in the world.
But no, this was not the case.
No matter, upon entry into the place Heidi was still optimistic and curious. I always imagine a deeply penetrating and unshakeable fear will envelope her as she senses the illness, uncertainty and anxiety of all the pets and owners in the place, but nope– she just sets about her vigorous explorations of the interior.
The waiting area, as sparsely attired as a bus shelter, speaks to a place that seeks to keep overhead to a minimum. Other than us, there were four other people waiting to see the vet, each one a single woman and her cat.
It was sweet, this, and each woman was murmuring softly, tenderly into the little carrying case that sat on their lap, “it’s going to be alright, Lucy, you’re going to be just fine. You’re such as sweet cat.”
It’s a nervous habit of mine whenever I’m around a doctor or a vet to make small talk imaging that in some way this will diminish whatever gravity is attendant to the visit. As we held Heidi and she stood on the cold metal of the examining table as the vet gently examined her, I looked around the room and saw a variety of simple framed photographs of animals on the walls.
A Giraffe.
A Great Dane
A Spider Monkey
A Horse
A Lion
Heidi–sad-eyed and trembling– seemed to be in the process of shedding her entire coat onto the examining room table, her claws now useless on the alien surface they scrabbled against.
The vet was an East Indian man with a calm and kind manner, and as he filled up a syringe I thought to ask him what his favourite animal was. He looked surprised, as if it was the first time anybody had ever asked him that, and then paused for a moment before answering, “I will have to think on that.”
He proceeded with giving our dog her shots, and when it was over and we were heading out the door he looked over at me, “You know, it would have to be the oxen. We used to have them when I was growing up in India and let me tell you, when you know one another from birth, they are like your brothers. So very sweet and loyal, they follow you everywhere, your very best friend.”
And he smiled at the memory.
“ The ox I was closest to was named Katu, “it means star.” He concluded, “ Your dog is very healthy, you all stay well! Good-bye now!”