You know when ‘times is hard’ sometimes people do things to help – little things that make a difference. Well, today I want to thank you, all you readers, who have sent sympathy. I also want to thank someone special, who knocked on my door and took poor old Hector out for walks, as he was being ignored. Her name is Claudia, and she took Hector out on adventures with his old friends Marne and Dali and she deserves a huge big thank you and a hugs because she wasn’t asked to do what she did, she just did it.
Yesterday I rang the vets – not to thank them but to tell them I would not cross their threshold if my life depended on it. You see, they let my puppies die. In the oh so many flashbacks and questioning of what I did wrong – I remember their complacency. Here is the thing, poor Bonny was sick and she was flinging her puppies off her nipples because she had a high temperature – milk fever (as my mother calls it). At eight thirty on Monday morning I was at the Vets and my words were “Please help me – we are in trouble here“. She gave Bonny an injection and told me to bottle feed the puppies. That afternoon after we had already lost three of the pups – my mother rang that same vetinary practice again, begging for help. The advice they gave? Put the puppies to Bonny’s nipples and make them feed. Which part of “Bonny wont let them feed” did they not understand? So that is why I rang them to withdraw from their list of clientel. Today the vet rang me – she tried to imply the puppies may have been harelipped, not true, the first born had been examined by the vet who delivered him and he had told me he (Mighty Jo) didn’t have a hare lip. Also, all the puppies had gained weight – almost 2 oz a day so they were initially thriving. That vet and her staff let my puppies die. They make a lot of money at that Vetinary practice, lots of money, but I wonder when they are counting their lovely, lovely money, if they will ever consider the soft velvety touch of Mighty Jo’s sleek fur as I wrapped his small dead form in a tea towel, or the cute little ears that seemed to be on the side of Widget’s little, little head as he slipped into his final slumber. We fought such a battle to keep those pups alive, and we most certainly ASKED FOR HELP!!!! but the vetinary practice I dare not name (in case of libel….) let my lovely, lovely puppies die . How’s your money feeling now, big fat vet – big fat puppy killer.
Sorry if I am going on, but whenever my mind empties all I can hear are the cries of those dying pups and the groans of poor Bonny, who couldn’t take care of them.
As I write, Wellington is still alive. I dare say no more than that.
OK – publish and be damned……