HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Saturday, December 02, 2006Children of a Lesser Dog
Just took my dogs to the vet. We take them to the Humane Society, where I used to work before I decided that making children's lives miserable would be a good way to earn a living, so I got to say hi to a bunch of really nice people with whom I used to work.
The vet who looked at our boys is one who started some time after I quit, so she hadn't ever seen them before and didn't know me from Adam. I felt bad, because, as she didn't know him, she didn't realize that our younger dog, Mortimer, is incredibly sweet. Instead, all she got to see was his spastic, squirrelly side. He was not happy to be there. From the car ride down to sitting in the waiting room to being put up on the examination table, Mortimer was nervous as all get out. He wasn't nuts about having his teeth looked at. He didn't like when she ran a comb over him to look for fleas. And when it came to the blood-draw to test for heartworm, he just wasn't having it. I tried to get a good grip on him, but he squirmed away. He actually nearly leapt off of the table at one point as the vet came at him with the needle. Then the vet tech got a hold of him and held him steady for just long enough so that the doctor could get a jab at him. Then, in the 2.5 seconds she took to get some blood, he lashed out with his anal glands, splashing some truly foul liquid on the exam room wall. That's a little embarrassing. Saying, "He's really a nice boy, I swear" doesn't work very effectively when the vet tech is wiping his butt gunk off the wall. I felt really bad for him. And, of course, our older dog, Ben, was an angel. 'Cause that's just how he is. And so Momo got the inevitable, "You should be more like your brother here." Poor li'l guy. Anyway, we've got two healthy dogs. Who are a bit "oily". The vet said we should be bathing them more often, which--along with the anal gland squirting--made us feel like first cousins of Cletus, the slack-jawed yokel. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go wash my dogs and scrub the ass-fluid off of my shoes.
Comments:
Ben's such a sweetheart!!
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Mortimer is like Sebastian when it comes to going to the vet, although Sebastian has not had any anal gland mischief, at least not as far as I know. Because of his issues with unknown women (and the time he popped out of my arms and magically out of a muzzle in one fell swoop and nearly chewed the female vet to pieces), we always make an appt. with Dr. Jones, the male vet, so there's a little more familiarity and less stress involved. Dr. Jones and I have a discussion in the exam room and then I hand him Sebastian's leash, and Dr. J. takes him into the other room to complete the exam and give him whatever shots he might need. Sebastian always gets much more agitated being examined when I'm in the room for some reason. It's like he thinks he needs to protect me from them or something. He's come a LONG way in the past six years, especially with the help of the Academy of Canine Behavior. They perform MIRACLES, truly! Sebastian will be boarding there when I go down to the Bay Area on Monday. So, we had to get his bordatella booster as well as his annual check up. Apparently he was a little disturbed by the new nurse's dog, who was crated in the other room where they examined Sebastian and whining nonstop. It'd upset me, too, if there was some person I couldn't see who was crying and whimpering while people came at me with needles. Doesn't seem that unreasonable. At any rate, Mortimer is a sweetie, too. He was lucky to find you and Mrs. Hairshirt.
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