I took Zig round first thing, then tried to simultaneously restrain him and calm him whilst Victor injected his back leg with sedative. Until now I've been lucky with Zig, and not needed the vets much beyond the routine yearly jabs. And whenever we have been, Ian and Victor have been brilliant. But despite this, Zig is terrified of the place.
He hated going there this morning: panting and shedding, his eyes wide and nervous, his whole body shaking with stress. It's one of the reasons the vets and I have tried everything else before getting to this point. Happiness at home can be the greatest healer. But with the recent worsening of Ziggy's lameness, it was time.
Anyone with a greyhound, especially an ex-racer, will know that we may well be looking at bone cancer. I can only hope that it isn't.
Ziggy's being x-rayed as I type. I stayed with him as the sedative took hold, his head growing heavy and then resting on my knee as his body collapsed to the side. I stayed with him as Victor manipulated Zig's leg into different positions, feeling all the way up from his toes for anything obvious. He didn't find anything.
Then I left, whilst the vets carried my greyhound through to their x-ray room. And now I wait.