Ted goes to the vets.

The boy is a drama queen. He went to the vet yesterday for his first vaccination, and a health check. He was so flat, and shivering in the consult room, the vet thought he was ill. Yeah right, this little bugger is so ill, he's spent the morning swinging off the mafias ears, disembowling cushions, digging up the cucumbers I'd just planted, humping his pheasant, not to mention the "accident" with the washing machine hose, that I'm still not quite ready to talk about. If this is a sick pup, praise the Lord I didn't get a healthy one. After a thorough examination, and probing with thermometers ( that went down worryingly well, and seemed to be the highlight of the whole experience) the boy was declared disgustingly fit, and weighed 8.4kilos, so was duly given his first shot, which he took like a man, a man who had just had a scaffold pole shoved in his neck. Ted did a lot of puking in the car on the way home, then marched in through the door, with body language that said, pfft, I laugh in the face of vets and their pathetic blue needles, to be greeted adoringly by the mafia. So there you have it, the boy will never become the capofamiglia they need, but he's a fairly decent excuse for a thug, when he's safely on his own turf, with blankey and dolly for back up. I felt guilty telling the girls he was a brave boy, but I figured they will work the truth out in their own blonde time.