Hrm
I'm debating on whether or not to actually go outside at all today (apart from feeding the bunbots, that is). The weather is about as grim as yesterday--all drizzly rain interspersed with heavy bursts, cold winds and grey, grey, greyness--and I went out bird watching yesterday (and got utterly soaked in the rain that chucked it down when I was exactly halfway between the island and marsh hides. Thanks, nature) so it's not like I haven't seen outside this weekend.
Also, I feel kinda grotty (and I'm not entirely sure why. Argh. *pokes crappy immune system*) and the paralympics are kinda absorbing in a 'but I should really be doing laundry.washing up/cleaning the pig sty known as my room' way.
Yesterday at work was a big pile of boring ick, compounded by that fact that rotas seemed to have settled on a one-in-three that sees me working with S the vet all the time (shoot me in the head NOW), and the fact that, despite there being mostly shag all happening, we still ended up finishing over an hour late (just, really, people: if your dog has been in another vet practice all week having intensive care for near-fatal complicated hyperglycaemia, Saturday lunchtime, twenty minutes before we (being the last practice to close) switch to emergency cover--like all the other practices in the area--is not the time to insist on them discharging your dog and then bringing it to us with minimal history (and extracting the history from the original practice--with whom you have a huge bill that you're refusing to settle--was like obtaining blood from the proverbial stone) and a demand that we fix it is not cricket and just confirms my suspicion that there are plankton out there that are cleverer than you. Jeez
This rant courtesy of crazycakes people who's entire consult and interactions with both myself and the vet were carried out via the medium of speaking to the dog. I--seriously. We had to ask the dog what was wrong, and only then would the woman answer--but she wouldn't speak to us. She'd speak to the dog. Why? I mean, there's reassurance-talking, and I know I do that all the time. It's probably a large chunk of why I don't get bitten as often as I probably should (the others being that, despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not a muppet, and I've also picked up more than a small ability at reading multi-species body language), but, still-- why?!
Also, I feel kinda grotty (and I'm not entirely sure why. Argh. *pokes crappy immune system*) and the paralympics are kinda absorbing in a 'but I should really be doing laundry.washing up/cleaning the pig sty known as my room' way.
Yesterday at work was a big pile of boring ick, compounded by that fact that rotas seemed to have settled on a one-in-three that sees me working with S the vet all the time (shoot me in the head NOW), and the fact that, despite there being mostly shag all happening, we still ended up finishing over an hour late (just, really, people: if your dog has been in another vet practice all week having intensive care for near-fatal complicated hyperglycaemia, Saturday lunchtime, twenty minutes before we (being the last practice to close) switch to emergency cover--like all the other practices in the area--is not the time to insist on them discharging your dog and then bringing it to us with minimal history (and extracting the history from the original practice--with whom you have a huge bill that you're refusing to settle--was like obtaining blood from the proverbial stone) and a demand that we fix it is not cricket and just confirms my suspicion that there are plankton out there that are cleverer than you. Jeez
This rant courtesy of crazycakes people who's entire consult and interactions with both myself and the vet were carried out via the medium of speaking to the dog. I--seriously. We had to ask the dog what was wrong, and only then would the woman answer--but she wouldn't speak to us. She'd speak to the dog. Why? I mean, there's reassurance-talking, and I know I do that all the time. It's probably a large chunk of why I don't get bitten as often as I probably should (the others being that, despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not a muppet, and I've also picked up more than a small ability at reading multi-species body language), but, still-- why?!