your partner has deserted you. That sounds dramatic, but that’s how it feels, with Alex working late most days now that the light evenings are here. I have no right to expect anything else, because I know very well what his job entails, but I’m sure he didn’t put in quite so many hours when I first met him.
I leave George with Flick, the manager at the nursery, trying to restrain myself from running back to him, and feeling like the worst mum in the world. I walk along to Otter House, catching up with Shannon who’s bringing Daisy in for her check-up. Shannon’s mother has always worked, and she brought Shannon up alone from when her dad died, and she’s turned out fine. I tell myself to take comfort in that and not fret so much.
‘Mum’s busy making up orders, otherwise she’d have brought Daisy along herself,’ Shannon explains.
I can’t help wondering if she’s just too embarrassed after the last time.
In the practice, I spend the morning consulting while Emma guides Will through his fourth list of ops. He’s doing as well as can be expected, but we’re not completely confident that he can cope alone. Emma and I decided who was to do the honours this time by tossing a coin. I won.
I help Shannon coax Daisy onto the scales in Reception, watched by a cat that looks on from its carrier with a supercilious expression, as if to say, you’ll never catch me on one of those.
Shannon checks the display. ‘She’s lost loads. That’s unbelievable.’
‘Yes, and I don’t believe it either.’ I move closer. ‘It’s impossible.’ Then I laugh out loud. Daisy’s on the scales, but she’s also leaning against the wall. The wall is taking the strain. Daisy rolls her bulgy eyes and growls when we ask her to move, but eventually she settles in the right place.
‘She hates people going on about her weight,’ Shannon says.
‘She does appear to be developing a complex.’ I stroke Daisy’s coat . I still don’t kiss her. Her skin is greasy, her hair rough and bristly. She isn’t in great condition.
‘What should we do next? Cut her food down even more?’
‘How much walking is she doing?’
‘Not a lot, to be honest. Mum’s been feeling under the weather, and it’s a pain walking Daisy with Seven, because Seven wants to run around playing, while Daisy drags along behind. I take them out separately after work, but I’m not usually up in time in the mornings …’
‘You’ll just have to get up earlier then.’ I’m teasing. ‘Shannon, you’ve got enough to deal with. Let’s reduce her food by another quarter for the next two weeks and see if that makes any difference. Has she had any extras?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Shannon says. ‘She’d love to get hold of Seven’s food, but I stand over them so she can’t. Oh, one thing – I found her drinking out of a bucket that had flower food in it – it’s sugary, but there can’t be all that many calories in it, can there?’
‘Does she drink very much – water, I mean?’
Shannon thinks for a moment. ‘I don’t know. She isn’t drinking any more than normal.’
‘It might be worth measuring her fluid intake over twenty-four hours. It would be a useful practical task to link with the theory you’re studying at college.’ Shannon is doing her second year of a vet nursing diploma on a day-release basis.
‘I’ll try. It won’t be easy with Seven and the flower buckets all over the place.’
‘I’ll leave the logistics with you. Let me know how you get on. Otherwise, we’ll book Daisy in for another appointment in two weeks’ time.’
‘Will do,’ Shannon says brightly.
Next, there are seven Springador puppies, Labrador-springer spaniel crosses, to check and give their first vaccinations. The owner has enlisted the help of several family members to bring them to the practice.
‘Hello, Jan,’ I say, letting the trail of people and pups in arms into the consulting room. Jan is a longstanding client who is
I leave George with Flick, the manager at the nursery, trying to restrain myself from running back to him, and feeling like the worst mum in the world. I walk along to Otter House, catching up with Shannon who’s bringing Daisy in for her check-up. Shannon’s mother has always worked, and she brought Shannon up alone from when her dad died, and she’s turned out fine. I tell myself to take comfort in that and not fret so much.
‘Mum’s busy making up orders, otherwise she’d have brought Daisy along herself,’ Shannon explains.
I can’t help wondering if she’s just too embarrassed after the last time.
In the practice, I spend the morning consulting while Emma guides Will through his fourth list of ops. He’s doing as well as can be expected, but we’re not completely confident that he can cope alone. Emma and I decided who was to do the honours this time by tossing a coin. I won.
I help Shannon coax Daisy onto the scales in Reception, watched by a cat that looks on from its carrier with a supercilious expression, as if to say, you’ll never catch me on one of those.
Shannon checks the display. ‘She’s lost loads. That’s unbelievable.’
‘Yes, and I don’t believe it either.’ I move closer. ‘It’s impossible.’ Then I laugh out loud. Daisy’s on the scales, but she’s also leaning against the wall. The wall is taking the strain. Daisy rolls her bulgy eyes and growls when we ask her to move, but eventually she settles in the right place.
‘She hates people going on about her weight,’ Shannon says.
‘She does appear to be developing a complex.’ I stroke Daisy’s coat . I still don’t kiss her. Her skin is greasy, her hair rough and bristly. She isn’t in great condition.
‘What should we do next? Cut her food down even more?’
‘How much walking is she doing?’
‘Not a lot, to be honest. Mum’s been feeling under the weather, and it’s a pain walking Daisy with Seven, because Seven wants to run around playing, while Daisy drags along behind. I take them out separately after work, but I’m not usually up in time in the mornings …’
‘You’ll just have to get up earlier then.’ I’m teasing. ‘Shannon, you’ve got enough to deal with. Let’s reduce her food by another quarter for the next two weeks and see if that makes any difference. Has she had any extras?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Shannon says. ‘She’d love to get hold of Seven’s food, but I stand over them so she can’t. Oh, one thing – I found her drinking out of a bucket that had flower food in it – it’s sugary, but there can’t be all that many calories in it, can there?’
‘Does she drink very much – water, I mean?’
Shannon thinks for a moment. ‘I don’t know. She isn’t drinking any more than normal.’
‘It might be worth measuring her fluid intake over twenty-four hours. It would be a useful practical task to link with the theory you’re studying at college.’ Shannon is doing her second year of a vet nursing diploma on a day-release basis.
‘I’ll try. It won’t be easy with Seven and the flower buckets all over the place.’
‘I’ll leave the logistics with you. Let me know how you get on. Otherwise, we’ll book Daisy in for another appointment in two weeks’ time.’
‘Will do,’ Shannon says brightly.
Next, there are seven Springador puppies, Labrador-springer spaniel crosses, to check and give their first vaccinations. The owner has enlisted the help of several family members to bring them to the practice.
‘Hello, Jan,’ I say, letting the trail of people and pups in arms into the consulting room. Jan is a longstanding client who is
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