Yes, the "vitinrey" himself, that needle-packing, mouth probing, finger poking busybody. I should have known when we were dragged back in at 9am that nothing good would follow. I adopted a policy of trying to blend into the back wall of my room but unfortunately in addition to being an officious busybody he's also quite observant.
Chester went first, and being new to this operation, he didn't recognize the mad medical man for what he truly is. The veterinarian lavished him with praise and offered him a handful of treats. Next thing he had his hand is Chester's mouth, announced a veritable mountain range of sharp peaks on many of his teeth and pointed out some baby teeth that are still loitering about in there. Chester is not five years old, but four it seems. The appointment for filing will take place in a week's time.
Molly went next and her full figure drew a warning about the perils of overeating. She blew a raspberry in the vet's direction and rolled her eyes. She didn't even notice when he stuck the needles in her muscular neck. She gulped down the treats offered and lumbered back to her stall where she searched her bedding in vain for hay wisps.
That left only me...my adrenaline surged, my nerves jangled and every sense told me that the next few minutes would be tense indeed. I reared slightly a couple of times to indicate my willingness to set passive resistence aside, I snorted and stamped a foot and then I buried my head in the back corner. "Now, now," said the madman and offered me a treat. I snatched the treat and went back into ostrich mode. He patted my neck and paid me outlandish compliments and next thing it was all over and he was handing me more treats. To my amazement I survived unscathed but I'm still trying to figure out what sleight-of-hand was used. I must brood on this further. At least Molly and I don't need our teeth done this year.
I'm pleased to report that although Jack was attacked with the dreaded vermifuge he gave better than he got. It took three people to hold him and I hear they are still in recovery after he towed them around like so many rubber dinghys. Jack is fine fettle but highly indignant and is still muttering about "maniacks what attak a frale old man with poisin".