Yesterday the task of taking the little brute depicted in the photos to the vet fell to me. My image of a vets office was shaped from writing of James Herriot and my real life experiences with the Town and Country office in Stouffville. Both portrayed a similar image of how a veterinary practice was to be run. The Town and Country was a good sized house with a cobbled walk obscured by overgrown bushes. The rooms sometimes felt a bit tight but there was real homey feeling about the place. It was punctuated by the cat who lived in the waiting room and sought favour from the human visitors while taunting oft nervous patients. The most comfortable homes often have an air of humorous animosity.
I loved the wall chart of all the different dog breeds. All of us kids had memorized the CKC register of breeds and each time we'd eagerly point out the breeds that were left out. We'd wonder smugly how anyone could have omitted the Grosser Munsterlander or the Basset Fauve de Bretagne. Surely no poster of dog breeds was complete without them. Still, what it lacked in content it made up for with the artwork. There was something classically enchanting about it that I think typified the whole place. It was not necessarily the most modern but it aptly covered all the basics.
As I discovered recently I prefer classical to modern. The Lakewood Animal Hospital is just a 17 minute walk from our house. Because my wife had taken the car with her to work I happen to know this for a fact. They chose the name well because the place did indeed appear to be a hospital. It was sterile and industrial and all the employees wore scrubs even the receptionist. I suppose you never know when she might be called upon to perform an emergency tracheotomy with one of the complimentary pens.
The waiting room was an odd combination between a hospital and a park. The floor, wall and ceilings were reminiscent of the average emergency room but the decor was unique. They had three outdoor park benches in a row and no other seating. I wondered if they had not been purloined from the bus stop out front. I surreptitiously inspected them during my wait and was a bit shocked to find that they were custom made to inflict discomfort on humans and animals alike. The other unique decorative implement was a "new age" like fountain. The sound of constant rushing water tempted even the strongest bladders with immediate evacuative action. I took Katana off my lap since we still had a 17 minute walk home.
I think they borrowed their in house procedure from the hospital as well because although I was the only person in the waiting room (and the only other person with a pet I saw for the duration of my visit) it still took quite a bit before one of the medically clad seating attendants informed me that I could weigh in my pet and proceed to the secondary waiting room. The inner sanctum where only those frustrated by a sore back and tightly squeezed legs could enter. From here we could see our final destination. The sign on the door read "Veterinary Homeopath". I secretly hoped there was a third waiting room.
The vet was actually quite nice but she suggested we let Katana run around her office for a bit to let her become comfortable. The dog was perfectly adjusted the moment we walked in but I discovered there were ulterior motives. Although all we needed was a simple vaccination I got a complete rundown on the benefits of organic foods for dogs and the ravages of name brand processed dogs foods. She had written up some natural health plans that she was eager to peddle. My response was fairly clear, although I want the best for the little beast I myself eat processed food and I don't want the dog to outlive me. I think my witty retort was all that saved us from sitting in a circle burning incense.
The vaccinations were administered without further incident and I was free begin the journey home and reflect upon how very different veterinary practice has become.
