Tuesday. 4th October 2016.
The sebaceous cyst that Sage has been festering for years finally got angry enough and burst last night.
Nothing like a trip to the vet.
Vet Rosmary says to me, you hold her while I clean it up and have a squiz… Ten minutes later we have Sage muzzled and wrapped in a towel. The burley guy who works there too has hold of her head and I have her rear, trying to calm her. Sage was ferocious with pain.
Rosemary is what you would call, somewhat eccentric. She gets excited about gunky, pussy stuff, but I don’t… She’s wiping away and squeezing at the swollen cyst. Oooh’ing and arhhh’ing, swabbing and squirting the raw skin. Then she grabs the tweezers and after a few seconds swings the tweezers across to my wincing face and exclaims “oh look, a clump of fur!” Saliva building in my mouth I breathed back a “that’s nice” while trying not to throw up or pass out. “Oh” she says, “that’s right, you don’t do puss…”
Nope, I don’t. Three clumps later…
We left with Sage’s poor little head like this. A gaping hole in it, raw and angry. That’s fine, but as we leave the rooms, Rosemary adds, you will need to remove the scab daily…
Fuck me! Really?