Vigil

 I wrote this post, yesterday.

I’m sat in an empty waiting room. 

There is a tv but it’s switched off and thanks to covid there’s no magazines to read.

There is a small selection of wooden toys in a box in the corner, the sort no children ever want to play with.

I’ve been here for two hours, so far.

The vet and his colleague have been treating Roger for the duration. The surgery is seventeen miles from Trelawnyd and so I’ve resisted the vet’s suggestion of going home .

I think they’ve forgotten about me.

I feel scruffy.

I’m wearing my big blue winter jumper, the one with the hole in the sleeve. 

I’ve poked my thumb through it now which makes a sort of glove and it feels good as the waiting room heating isn’t on. 

The other dogs are curled up in the car. They are asleep.

The vet appears, a fresh faced boy of a professional . 

He’s articulate and doesn’t treat me as though I’m dense, which I like. 

Roger is still somewhat “ jittery’ and needs to be observed a while longer

Did I want to go home and come back later? 

When I shook my head he asked 

“Is there someone that you want to take over here then ?”

“There’s only me” I told him 

Suddenly feeling very alone in a somewhat upsetting day.

I was brought a cup of tea and half a Kit Kat which was kind.

I hate the feeling, today has given me

I suspect many Singletons do when the chips are down a little and you only have yourself to deal with things.

I know Roger will be fine, I know I can afford the callout charges

But it’s all a bit harder dealing with things alone.

No one to moan to,

No one to bounce off…..

Anyhow, sitting here, I found this older blog entry from a decade ago .

It amused me 

I was standing over by the counter , which is in front of me now, in times when the previous junior vet looked like George Clooney.

It’s worth another look

One of the refugees has a chesty cough

I had run out of antibiotics

So I rang the vets

Booked with the receptionist to collect some

And drove up to the surgery late this morning.

The receptionist must have been on her break for only George Clooney

( the GOB smackingly good looking vet) was sat behind the desk eating a sandwich

I straightened my hair and gave him one of my best smiles

And before I could say anything, he stood up and sang out a lusty

" Mr Gray!" 

And suddenly  I went all silly realising that he had actually remembered my name

" you have a good memory for faces, I haven't been in for ages"

I wittered.

George shook his handsome head

" Not really" he answered in his deep chocolate voice

and  picking  up the bottle of antibiotic from the counter,

he added simply and somewhat wryly

" Your name is on the bottle"