Dip-Sticks

There is a saying that horses were born to make fools of men. I think that saying can be extended to horse vets too. Bar-Os has recently finished a course of anti-biotics for a bladder infection. Being a law student and all that (bit of an anorak when it comes to research), I have looked into Cauda Equina Syndrome and the associated paralysis that it causes. A common side effect is bladder weakness, with inability to empty the bladder fully, which leads to recurrent cystitis. I have a tube of dip-sticks to test Bar-Os’ urine for infection; they’re quite easy to use – dip one of em in pee, wait a bit, then compare the coloured squares to those on the side of the tube. On Friday I tested Bar-Os’ pee and it showed blood in the urine. I wasn’t exactly surprised as his urine was a very dark colour. I tested it again on Monday and it was still the same, so I rang and left a message for the vet.

Vet rang back whilst I was out and left a very condescending message on my answer-phone, explaining that the dip-sticks are very difficult to ‘read’ and that I would need to take a pee sample in. I should at this point explain that a normal reading on said dip-stick for no blood in urine is pale yellow. Bar-Os’ reading was top-end of the scale, showing a very clear, unequivocal dark green square. Vet also explained that the detailed urine analysis carried out one month ago showed no infection (in other words, I’m clearly a dip-stick who can’t read squares, or have Munchausen’s Syndrome by Proxy).

Anyway, when I test Bar-Os' urine at home, it’s not too difficult because he’s a bit dribbly and I only need a drop to wet the dip-stick. Vet however, wants a ‘proper’ urine sample taken in for him to dip-stick. Not too bad thought I, Bar-Os tends to pee when I first put him in the stable (nice clean bed, just begging to be urinated on). So, there I stood in the stable, in my anorak, with high viz (I have to lead him home on the road at dusk), complete with cheerful pom-pom hat and a plastic jug. I stood there for an hour, ever hopeful, pretending to be disinterested in Bar-Os' peeing apparatus. Bar-Os just kept eyeing me suspiciously. Can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday thought I (yes, that’s right, I’m 28 (again!)). The quest was fruitless, but undeterred I shall try again this evening.

Talking of being considered an idiot. I went to the Parish Council meeting on Monday. It was packed – there were 4 members of the public present. There I sat, patiently waiting for the ‘any other matters’ bit. Mr Pompous was in full swing. Resplendent in his (polyester) pin striped suit, he waxed lyrical about important matters such as the purchase of the village telephone box (£1), the Tidy Village Competition (we lost:-)), and the piece de resistance, the pot hole in the road on the outskirts of the village. It was at this point that Mr Pompous (who has a VERY posh accent) waved his arm theatrically at his vast audience and referred to us as ‘peasants’.

I should perhaps point out that Mr Pompous has form as long as your arm. He lives in a house which he says has a long sweeping drive, flagged with willow trees, a drawing room, a nursery, a morning room, as well as a snug and a lounge. Funny thing is, from the road (about 10ft away), it looks just like the other 2 bed bungalows that neighbour his property. Must be the bloody Tardis;-)

Mr Pompous just lerves the American that has purchased the Hall, so wasn’t too pleased when I brought up the nuisance caused by the fireworks. “No, you’re wrong, they’re not fireworks from the Hall, they’re from the Lodge” he said. I pointed out (through gritted teeth), that the Lodge is over a mile away, and the fireworks in question explode over the top of my house. Nope, he wouldn’t have it. Another ‘peasant’ said that she had an email from the American confirming the fireworks provenance. Mr Pompous then changed tack, saying that it wasn’t a matter for the Parish Council. “Well” said another ‘peasant’, “you were the ones that entered into the agreement with the American allowing 6 – 8 displays per year”. The childish response was that the fireworks are the ‘quiet’ ones that cause no noise and he knew that because he had never heard them.

I pointed out that there was a compromise to be had out of this – the Hall stands in substantial grounds with a lake, ideal as a firework backdrop, which is situated well away from the residential part of the village. Mr Pompous snorted that if I thought I could do anything, I’d better think again because Environmental Health wouldn’t entertain my complaint. Watch this effing space, thought I, whilst smiling at him serenely, in a village peasant sort of way.