Waiting rooms are so boring. At the age of 35, you’d think I’d have learned by now to bring my own reading material when I go to the clinic, but no. So this afternoon I found myself, once again, sifting through the selection of old volumes of Financiers Weekly and TV Stuff, desperately seeking something to occupy me for the inevitable 40-minute wait.
I finally uncovered something to tide me over – a dog-eared copy of Pets’ Health that featured photos of kittens and a semi-interesting article on dog desexing. Moorabbin folks evidently have a thing for this topic – the page was all screwed up, as if someone had tried to tear it out, and there were even some notes scribbled in the margins.
On closer inspection, this turned out to be the most gripping reading in the whole magazine. Someone had written themselves a reminder to ‘find Brighton vet clinic for Hansel’, followed by a series of haiku poems about the Hansel in question. I’m picturing him as a Saint Bernard; don’t ask me why – maybe because it sounds like he’s quite a large boy.
For some reason, this rather touched my heart, and I proceeded to flip through the rest of the volume with a heightened appreciation for the connection that humans and dogs are able to share. By the time the receptionist called me in for my appointment, I was so absorbed in the latest developments in pet care that I accidentally asked him which veterinarian I was seeing.
It’s funny that I read so much of that magazine, given that I don’t have a pet and thus have no need for veterinary care. I suppose part of the appeal might be that I normally have zero engagement with this topic, so it’s an ideal way to disconnect from the hustle and bustle.
Maybe I should get a dog for that… if Hansel’s anything to go by, it could be a worthwhile experience.