A Costly Week

Last week was an expensive week. To be fair, when you can drink gin as well as I can, most weeks are expensive, so it’s probably best if I describe last week as a particularly expensive week. On Tuesday, the best equine Vet in the country (Janey Herriot) was booked to come and rasp my horse’s teeth and to administer his annual Flu booster. Dobbin (Wet-Dishcloth-Horse) is as brave as a lion with everything; apart from the Vet. And as such he needs heavy sedation to keep all humans safe and to make the whole experience less traumatic for him. If I was the proud owner of some sort of horse carrying vehicle, I would simply have wrapped Dobbin’s legs in cotton wool, chucked him into the back of it and driven him to my Vets’ Surgery. This saves the all important “call out fee”; and I am firm in the belief that I could transport Nico Rosberg’s Mercedes from Stuttgart to Northumberland for less than what my Vet demands to come to my house. Nevertheless Janey and her Veterinary Nurse (Florence) appeared on Tuesday morning and had Dobbin sedated, rasped and jabbed in a smartly efficient length of time and were off again before my horse had regained the use of his faculties. I put Dobbin out the field for his drunkenness to wear off and headed into the house for a coffee, satisfied that the job was done for another year.

Unfortunately on Wednesday morning, it was apparent that all was not well with Dobbin. When I came out to his stable at stupid o’clock in the morning, I noticed that he hadn’t drunk as much water as normal and was clearly a bit under the weather. Wet-Dishcloth-Horse had never reacted to his Flu jab before but I was certain this was the problem and so I rang Mrs Herriot & Company. I asked the lady Vet who I spoke to if she could just authorise some pain relief for Wet-Dishcloth-Horse. But no, Lady Vet said that someone would have to come out and examine him. And so an hour later, Boy Vet and Girl Vet arrived to scare the shit out of Dobbin for the second day in succession. And yes, Boy Vet (who was 12) agreed that I was correct with my diagnosis, gave me some packets of equine Paracetamol, a cheery wave and drove off again.

It is unfortunate that Dobbin’s dental examination and Flu booster occur in November, because it means along with the Christmas post I also receive correspondence from my Vet. Sadly it doesn’t wish me a Merry Christmas but instead says: “Dear Jodhpurs, You owe us a huge amount of cash, please pay it all in full or we won’t come and look at your horse again even if it’s about to die and needs put out of its misery. Love, Mrs Herriot and Co.” When I first ventured into the world of horse ownership many years ago, I found this method of collecting money from us horse owners rather odd. On the few occasions that Little Arab Horse needed medical attention, I used to try and force £20 notes into the Vet’s hand as they left the stable yard. I was astonished that your horse could receive treatment to the tune of hundreds of English Pounds and the Vet didn’t once check that you had the means to pay for it.

If I was a Vet I would keep all of my customers’ credit cards in the safe at my surgery. I would also ask for proof of any Premium Bonds held, HPI their car and ask for copies of their last 3 bank statements. Just to be on the safe side I would also ask to keep their eldest child at my home until they had settled their account in full and request that they signed an agreement that should their horse have to be destroyed, I would be in receipt of the horse’s shoes so I could sell them to the scrap man. In addition to these simple requests, I would also ask all my customers for a list of valuable items within their home and for a copy of their life insurance certificates. If any of my customers were late with their payment I would employ the lads from “Can’t Pay, We’ll Take It Away” to loiter outside their home until the account was settled.

I don’t understand this way of invoicing the “large animal” customers because if I take my cat to the Vets there is absolutely no chance of getting out the door without paying what is owed. There are no 30 day terms for small animal treatment and when you leave the consulting room with Felix in an oversized overnight bag, you have to pay immediately. Lovely though they are, the receptionists have a better tackling technique than Billy Vunipola (before he got injured). In fact, if Billy (before he got injured) made an attempt to drive his 24 stone bulk out of the door and into the car park whilst hugging his cat carrier, he would be brought to the floor by an army of Miss Moneypennys. Should Billy manage to get to his feet, bloodied and bruised and collect his cat in its travelling bag, he would then have to crawl through razor wire and laser beams to get to his car. This in turn would give Miss Moneypenny enough time to deploy the Stinger across the car park exit. If Billy was able to make it on to the main road he would find his rear view mirror full of blue flashing lights and his vehicle lit up by the search light of the police helicopter.

There is no escape for the small animal customer. But as we’re mates I’m going to give you a solution to this problem. It’s simple really, just buy a horse. Then your Vet will happily let you add Felix’s yearly vaccination fee onto your account and invoice you 30 days later.

Job Done.