Compare that to today.
I called yesterday to ask for an appointment. Our dogs have been vet-less for a year (healthy!) and they needed shots. Mother, KP, the mother of one of my wonderful students - all recommended the same vet. And when I called, they said, "Oh we have plenty of time tomorrow. Come at 230."
Well ok, then.
I arrived at 2:25, filled out one short piece of paper, and walked into an exam room at 228. Yes, they were busy, but that wasn't a problem. Oh, and it was bright and clean. We saw a funny tech ("I'm afraid she needs her anal glands expressed. I know you hoped for that when you awoke this morning" elicited "Oh, that's what we have 'interns' for" with a wicked grin. I like that girl!), then a very pleasant vet, and we got all this:
- Four shots for Juno
- One shot for Boris
- Those glands (Juno)
- Nails trimmed (Juno) [And they did a good job, unlike the KY vet who always made Juno bleed. No wonder she won't let me trim her nails!]
- A physical exam for both dogs
- A bottle of very, very gentle shampoo for Mr. Stinky Bobo
- A bag of high-fiber food for Mr. Fattie Bobo (125 pounds!!!!!) (!!) (!)
Price? Are you sitting down?
Riiiiiight. We're pretty happy. Except for Bobo, who's just a porker. In case you're wondering, Juno remains 32.2, down slightly but within the 2-pound range she's maintained her entire life. When the vet asked about any health problems we were all, "Uh...arthritis. She's 13." And I remembered that in California our beloved, wonderful vet didn't even know we had a second dog. He only ever saw our Ridgeback (long since gone to the Great Pork Chop In The Sky). Juno never got sick and the techs did her shots so he was unaware of her existence.
Anyway. The vet: wonderful. Us: happy. Boris: 125!!!!!