USDA Stamp of Approval

Monday morning I drove out near O'Hare to the USDA offices, large and dowdy-looking governmental buildings with a slightly unkempt interior, lazy security and lots of slow moving people. I found the "competent authority veterinarian" quite nice, however, as she spent less than five minutes reviewing Hobbes's vet papers before giving the official USDA stamp of approval--Prime Grade A. In reality, the government of Switzerland can't simply take the word of a random vet in the U.S. that a dog is healthy and safe, and therefore needs USDA verification. Makes sense if you like bureaucracy.

Fifteen minutes after returning home, I loaded Mr. Grade A into Trent's car for his eye doctor appointment; we've been performing regular checkups on his blind eye since last summer. We received some drops that may dissolve some slight scar tissue buildup, but mostly everything was perfectly fine. And Hobbes never met a veterinarian or invasive medical procedure that he didn't love, as long as treats are available.

Meanwhile Steph suffered one final CTA ride downtown (before the whole system crumbles to the ground, forecasted in early November) to retrieve our completed Swiss visas from the consulate and her previously-purchased Nordstrom clothes bounty. She returned home in time to join me in wishing a sad farewell to brother Trent in the early afternoon (temporarily only, as we'll see Trent and Amy in Spain in May).

Steph enjoyed a bit of relief by way of a spa and massage appointment in the early evening. Todd continued the melancholy job of packing and organizing and tidying up for the imminent move, including helping friends and neighbors remove our lovely TV and surround-sound stereo system as well as computer desk & chair, the absolute last piece of furniture to go, leaving the entire house empty.