Suffice to say, as the doctor outlined exactly what the problem was this afternoon and then what the solution would be I felt really very uncomfortable indeed. Luckily…
I was not the patient. Instead it was Sian the cat, rechristened Sean by my mother-in-law, which, I guess, is all fine and dandy in this gender fluid era. It seems that Sian had been trying to bite away at the blockage but failing, instead biting off her hair where her back meets her tail – hence the recent appearance of a bald patch. She was starting to become quite the GI Jane.
Anyhow, I trapped her – as you can see below – and Jaya and I drove her to a vet the other side of Wrexham where they still practice social distancing, make you put alcohol on your hands and all wear face nappies, not that any of this is now required even here in Wales. Natch I did not don a mask and was not challenged.
Sian miaowed constantly the whole journey there but having had her “procedure”- that is to say the vet manually emptying the glands – seemed much happier on the way back and has been given cat treats as a reward for her good behaviour. Normally i’d suggest that £43 for ten minutes was a bit steep and that vets are taking the piss. But on this occasion, given the nature of the work undertaken, I reckon that I got off lightly.