Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Visiting the Vet or I Told You So Day

It was time for our Annual Pet Check Up so I decided to save myself some travel time and I booked my dog and two cats for one joint visit. Pretty smart, I thought. Piece of cake. They all get along at home, so why not bundle them together? I decided to take Youngest Daughter with me so I could get them from car to waiting room. Buddy was on his leash, and the two cats were in two crates.

For reasons unknown, over the past few years Buddy has evolved from being a fairly high energy yet reasonably normal dog into a neurotic nightmare when we go into a public building and there are people around. It seems the more acoustically rich the location, the more vocal he becomes. He doesn't bark so much as "talk" in a way not unlike a yodeler swallowing jello shots and reciting the alphabet. Give that pooch a marbled floor and walls, like in our local bank, and within seconds he's positively operatic. My girls learned that the hard way when they stopped at the Instabank and left humiliated and cashless.

So today, Youngest and I got to the reception room and Bud whipped himself into his usual lather. He began his bow wow yippy yippy yay solo which would have been comical if it wasn't so mortifying. He literally tipped his head back and formed little "o's" with his mouth, then chewed air and ranted like a mad dog. Worse, oh so much worse, is after a few minutes of this, he sucked in air through his nose, over and over, with laboured breathing and great loud snorts and grunts like a truffle-hunting pig, which alarmed everyone except his owners (who are so used to it they feign ignorance or claim it's a rare medical condition too bad, so sad but he won't die on the spot, despite all evidence to the contrary so just ignore it.) He may, in fact, be possessed.

We finally charged into the examining room, bashing cages into door frames as Buddy lunged and jumped all over the vet. That's because he got a cookie there, once, years ago, and anytime anyone feeds him anything, it imprints on his brain and from that moment on, that person is nothing but a giant snack machine.

What he didn't remember was that he also needed to have his annual anal probe to empty his anal sacs, hence the cookies, used as a distraction. I may have forgotten to mention this detail to Youngest when she agreed to accompany me. She watched in mute horror from the corner chair as the vet used his BARE HANDS to examine Buddy, and by "examine" I mean he jammed his index finger up where the sun don't shine, which sent Buddy's yowling up an impressive octave. The resulting liquid was most foul, the stench overpowering in the tiny room. I looked over at Youngest, and her expression told me she had definitively crossed veterinary science off her list of potential career options. Before I could protest, the vet slapped on a liberal application of faux mango soap to Buddy's nether bits, which meant Buddy now smelled like two noxious odours.

Kicia the tiny white cat was a piece of cake. At seven pounds, she was easy to placate (once we pried her off my shoulders.)

Boris.....well, Boris is Boris. At almost sixteen pounds, he's all muscle and attitude. He tolerates much of the indignities without moving or making a sound, things like injections or wound cleanings. But then the vet said he needed a pill. Two pills, actually.
To be continued.....


nightsmusic said...

OMG! ROFL! But..but...I need to hear the rest.

I can just picture the dog, singing away in the waiting room. LOL

Too funny. :D

Claire Gregory said...

ROFL! I too have a dog who likes to vocalise in enclosed spaces. She's half beagle so the yow yow yippy is familiar to me. However she's also neurotically aggressive toward other dogs, so in our case a visit to the vet involves moving from one waiting room to the other (and back again) to avoid any other dogs in the building, all the while with Daisy barking/ howling her head off, until the vet puts us out of our misery and takes us through.

Can't wait to hear the rest about Boris...

Debby said...

Now my mouth is making little o's. oooooh. Sorry about the cat and the pill gig. This is never a good thing. Have your scratches stopped bleeding?


Josee said...

hahahaha.."she had definitively crossed veterinary science off her list of potential career options." Ya think?