Called the vet, bundled skunk into carrier, off we went.
The vet we have is fantastic. They specialize in skunks, but they're a forty-five minute drive away if the traffic is reasonable. The traffic was almost reasonable. We made it in an hour.
Hobkin didn't have a temperature. From scruffing he didn't seem dehydrated, although he was considerate enough to display a "bad tummy" symptom while we were there so they could test that. They also wanted to take blood.
Did you know there's a new insurance company policy that owners can't help restrain their own pets during veterinary procedures? Otherwise it nulls their malpractice insurance. How stupid is that? I'd be totally slack-jawed at the idea of owners suing vets after being bitten by their own fuzzies, except that's exactly what brought about this policy change.
So they whisked Hobkin off to get his blood drawn, and while he's gone, I heard these loud, piercing squawks. I knew there's a parakeet next door, and I assumed they were doing something terrible to that poor bird. After a bit, they returned, lugging a very distressed Hobkin and he's making these noises. As soon as they handed him to me, he stops, and clings to me for all he's worth.
My poor baby! If I'd known it was him screaming for me, I'd have come running! I didn't know such sounds could come out of him. I've heard other skunks scream, but Hobkin's never done so before. I get stressed when he makes "roinking" noises, which is nothing compared to the sounds he was making at the vets.
I was traumatized. Hobkin was traumatized. Matthew tried to comfort both of us.
The vets ran their test on the small amount of blood they were able to pull. He was on the borderline of dehydration so they wanted to stick him again and get some subcutaneous fluids in. This time, the vet agreed to let me hold him for the procedure. Hobkin didn't even twitch when the needle went in.
He's such a momma's boy.
They pumped a huge amount of solution into him, so much so that he had a bubble of slosh in his side. It actually skewed his coat so his stripe was crooked. Throughout the night I kept trying to tug it straight. Heh.
They also gave us amoxycillan and an anti-nausea drug to give him three times a day, which fortunately have agreeable tastes.
The clincher? As soon as we got home, we fed Hobkin lunch, and he snarfed it right up.
Obviously there was a derailment on the writing train. But after we returned from our veterinary foray, I managed to crank out 3000 new words.
Also finished my review of the latest Ocean of the Mind and sent it to my editor. He said he'll post it as soon as the substitute reviewer he found for the story written by the guy I know sends that in.
Hope to get more writing in today.