It seems that Katherine Haigh is a veterinarian who schedules her clinic hours around sessions of the state legislature. This arrangement seems ongoing, given the settled look of the barn-office complex.

Our appointment was bumped back because of an emergency: a little dachshund had been mauled by a Doberman. The dachshund's owner told me he had been shaken by the sight of his pet running toward him with her vitals hanging out. He said that it was lucky his dog was likely to survive the operation. Otherwise, he might have had to take justice into his own hands. He said it is just downright wrong for people to raise vicious dogs they can't or won't control.

This dachshund owner looked like a prosperous owner of a big suburban yard, the sort of fellow I don't have chances to run into often, except under unusual circumstances like this. I guess that's a reflection of how unusual my life is.

The skipperke spent the waiting time socializing with the vet's assistant. She got up on her hind legs and stood for a full ten minutes, leaning against the girl's leg and making eager climbing motions with her front paws. I had a nice talk with the assistant about animal behavior books.

The vet was Katherine Haigh's husband, part of a husband and wife vet team. He looked Brinca over and told me she had gained a pound in the past year. She is now three years old, and she weighs 12 pounds.