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Roses are red, George is still blue. - Too much floccinaucinihilipilification. Not enough supercalifragilisticexpial...

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February 16th, 2017

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04:08 pm - Roses are red, George is still blue.
The eighteen roses that I got on Valentine's Day are sitting near the kitchen window, by a bowl of catfood, as it's the only one that gets any light that is safe to place a vase. Thank you. Cheered me up immensely as, at present, things are doing their best to resist any improvement. And succeeding.

George is still being seen by the vet. I don't know what these idiots did but the tiny pin prick hole was made bigger when they decided to cut a piece away and see if there was anything inside. I already told them there wasn't as there was no infection and he wasn't in pain.

He wasn't in pain THEN.

So they put three stitches in his toe and a MASSIVE dressing all up his leg and add the Cone of Shame. The first dressing lasts a few hours. George is nothing if not determined. The one I put on myself (at massive effort and with tremendous difficulty) lasts a few days, then back to the vet. they change the dressing. It lasts a day or so then I put another one on after George loses that one. By now he is showing signs of pressure sores all up his leg and around the hock where the tape is holding the dressing on; either in direct contact or not.

His foot stinks like it's festering (it isn't, but it doesn't look good) as the dressings are too thick to allow breathing. Goes in with a tiny cut and ends up almost lame.

On Monday he goes back AGAIN for yet another dressing change. Each of these appointments is costing and they're insisting that there need to be at least another four... Corporate vets are a license to print money. I tell them straight, I'm not bringing him back after this one. All of a sudden the fee for this latest appointment is waived and two of them start arguing that he really needs to be seen. I'm sure their 1% shareholders think so. I tell them I'll bring him back on Friday and that's it.

Meanwhile. George has managed to remove this latest dressing in four hours by the expediency of walking through the sitting-room blinds rather than around the end, tangling the dressing in the plastic chains at the bottom and ripping it off in the process (nearly pulling down the whole assembly at the same time).

I give up. He's been very good since, his leg is now getting air, he's able to lick the pressure sores so they're healing and he can walk properly again. He's leaving his toe alone and it isn't bleeding. I'm keeping him in still, even though he really wants to go out. When I take him in for his final appointment on Friday I'll be interested to see what shit they come up with this time.

I loathe corporate vets.

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{Stun Me With Your Cunning}

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