Apologies for not posting over the past few days, but I’ve been quite busy with work following the magazine re-branding. I’m now on top of my new assignments, and taking a breather from research and writing articles about mummies, salt-dried cod and the Piemonte region, to mention a selection of my current workload.
I took Olive to the vets this week as she’s been scratching quite a lot and we thought she had mange, turned out she had a problem in the bowel caused by chewing on cooked bones, I wont go into details here as it would make unpleasant reading. Suffice to say, she’s on the mend, smells of paraffin or whatever it is that’s in her twenty-two euro medication and no longer allowed to have cooked bones; and she did love it when we had sweet, sticky ribs.
I was talking to our new vet, Fiorenzo about Alf, our adopted beast, I mentioned he needs to be micro chipped and be checked over and have his vaccinations: We’ve deliberately not taken him to a vet yet as being an abandoned dog it’s taken him time to get over his fear of men. As Alf is around ten-months old and I’d like to have him castrated, so I said to Fiorenzo during our conversation, “Voglio castrante.” Fiorenzo, raised an eyebrow and the edges of his mouth turned up, did he really stifle a laugh?
He switched his computer on to Google translate and typed in what I had just said and pointed to the screen, where the translation clearly read: ‘I want castrating’… Oops!
I think he did well not laughing, I’m not sure I’d have been as composed. In broken English he said, “What you say for this, is, voglio che lui castrato.” (I want him castrated).
Oh well at least it broke the ice, and he can now his family about the new English client who asked to be castrated, there’s something to be said for making a first impression.
At the window.