I seriously believe the veterinary clinic has been overlooked as a sitcom opportunity, evidenced by one of my pre-Christmas stints in the waiting room. Picture this:
A heavily decaled station wagon, with palm trees, tropical flowers, blue skies and a Paradise Pet Resort branding rolls into the car park. An extremely large man dressed in black pants and a black shirt with the resort's logo embroidered on the pocket heaves himself out of the car and lumbers in. It would have been so much funnier if he'd talked in Little Britain-type camp voice - he didn't but you can pretend.
Good morning, he says to the girl behind the desk. I'm John from the Paradise Pet Resort.... I have a booking for Tipsy and Mr Pickles.
Ah! she replied. Yes, Tipsy is here but I haven't seen Mr Pickles this morning. Let me give his owner a call and see where he is.
She catches one of the nurses as she goes past. Could you get Tipsy ready to go to the resort, please?
She then makes the call and it's clear she has to leave a message: Hi, it's Chrissy from the vet, just wondering if Mr Pickles will be here shortly? His transfer to the resort has arrived and will be leaving in about 15 minutes. If you could give us a call that'd be great. If he doesn't make it this morning, there's another transfer on Wednesday. Thank you.
As Tipsy was brought to reception in a cage and unceremoniously slid into the back of the car, no one was laughing, everyone was very serious and business-like. You'd think they were transferring guests at The Mirage in Fiji.
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| Is this what they do at a cat resort?? |
There does seem to be an unspoken competition for who can give their cat the silliest name (and surely 'Gary' is up there) but I don't think I could have those kinds of conversations without at least a little giggle. Perhaps they're all immune.
As I was leaving, a lady came in with a small child; We're here to collect Sizzle. Of course they were!
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