We were over at the Clydesdale Hotel in Hamilton for a wee celebratory dinner for Zoe's graduation on Wednesday evening. She seemed to enjoy it, which was nice. Awful well adjusted wee lassie, given the complex family arrangements.
Anyway, we got home about 10:30. Upstairs, there was clear evidence that one of the dugs had been investigating Marion's handbag. Unfortunately, the evidence was the remains of two packets of Ibuprofen, scattered all over the floor. Not a pill was left. Quick phone call to the pet insurance helpline, who just said to phone our own vet. They in turn simply refer you to the PDSA, which is effectively out of hours A&E for pets. Advice, not surprisingly, was to get the dog in as soon as possible. So we're heading out the door with Jorja when we thought - we didn't actually know it was her that had done it. Odds are highly stacked that way, but...
So, twa dugs into car. At Cowcaddens by 11:30. They took them, gave them jags to make them sick, found no remains of pills, kept them in overnight on drips and discharged them with two prescriptions each at 7:30 Thursday morning.
A bargain at £445.
It's not like you have a choice of course. Oh, and another forty-odd quid at our own vet tonight, for their follow up.
It's as well I'm fond of them. I suppose it puts the £350 for three weeks residential training into perspective.