Olive, Mabel & Me by Andrew Cotter

Author:Andrew Cotter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Countryman Press
Published: 2020-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

But I hope you will have seen here how strange and unfathomable is the mind of a dog—even two as happy and cared for as Olive and Mabel. It should also be quite clear how their sources of angst vary—what terrifies one doesn’t seem to bother the other in the slightest. But there is a matter upon which they agree: there is one thing, one location that bothers them—and almost all dogs—very much. Very much indeed.

15.

The Place That Shall Not Be Named

I can say the word to you, because you, dear reader, are not a dog. At least I presume you are not—surely even an incredibly gifted border collie won’t have got this far in the book. Or perhaps they would have, but were so disappointed at the labored prose that they went off to round up some sheep while doing algebra.

But to all dogs, the word vet is entirely unacceptable. Instead, every time we need to discuss the place, we rely on our dogs’ inability to spell and perhaps even whisper it as an added precaution, just in case they now recognize the word vee-ee-tee.

Olive and Mabel are no different from the general dog population in this regard, although it wasn’t always the case. Very early in their lives, the vet was not scary at all—just another place to meet and mingle, with dogs to sniff, humans to say hello to. Labradors are, after all, the great networkers. As well as that, there might even be a cat, peering through the bars of a small carry-box and looking royally pissed off with the situation, which always seemed to amuse Olive.

But for both of them things changed after the operation to have them spayed. From the moment they staggered or were carried out, still groggy and feeling decidedly sorry for themselves, all matters vet-related were different. I do remember holding Olive’s paw most of the way home in the car and apologizing to her, and there was similar guilt with Mabel. But from that point onward in their lives, they recognized the vet as an abode of the damned for dogs, cats, or whatever other poor creatures may have been dragged in there.

That’s not to say that our two have to be dragged into the vet’s office. In fact, they bounce in quite happily, glad to see one and all again. It’s only when you take your seat in the waiting room that there is a slow awakening of memory—a gradual realization that we are here for more than a few cheery hellos.

Olive does tend to handle it rather worse than Mabel. “Oh, bollocks . . .” you can see her thinking as it dawns on her: “I remember this place.” So you offer her a small consolation biscuit. Then somebody else does as well. And she is shivering and shaking so much, with her eyes turned up to full pleading mode, that she gets given snack after snack until you wonder if the vet is going to draw your attention to a chronic weight problem that she didn’t have when she came in.

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