The first vet check is a trying time for everyone. As a puppy parent you want your fur baby to pass with flying colours, be declared the picture of health, and become instantly adored by all veterinary staff. As a vet I’m assuming you want to not be pooped on, bitten, or accosted by the owner of this unknown creature with a rapid-fire deluge of google-induced questioning. And as a puppy you want treats. Lot and lots of treats. And probably to eat that hedgehog in exam room three. It all started out so well. The front desk girl loved his bunny ears and promptly took him into the back to be adored by all other staff. He received vast praise and playtime from the vet who even let him eat her shoe (mommy doesn’t allow shoe chewing, so this was a big deal for Chesney). He received terribly unhealthy chicken flavored treats. He was a delightful little ball of cute through his check-up, shots, and deworming….however when it came time for the nasal spray and nail trimming all hell broke loose. Literally, the devil inside him reared its ugly head and my adorable little dog went from vet’s best friend to technician’s worst nightmare in 2.5 seconds or less. He bit everyone. He made a sound akin to a wild hyena being pulverized by a forklift. He had to be restrained by three different staff members to avoid dismembering anyone. I’m sorry Park Veterinary. We’ll work on that for next time.
For some reason Chesney has a hatred of towels. To the rest of the world they are harmless cloths that provide comfort from the cold elements and dryness after a bath. To him they are soulless fabric monsters intent on taking over the world as we know it and covering it in their towel-y terror…and they must be stopped! And he’s just the dog for the job. Wet feet? Soaked and shivering from a bath? That’s nothing compared to the anarchy that ensues when a towel is proffered to rectify these mild discomforts. Even more dastardly, the hand INSIDE the towel bent on removing the moisture from his fur. Pure evil.
In other news, karma had a solid win last week. Determined not to be late for my bus (again) I made a valiant parking lot sprint for my double decker across a parking lot full of other late bus runners. While wearing a maxi skirt. Carrying 2 bags. With little to no concern for my own safety. You see where this is going. Long story short I ate pavement. As I lay there bleeding other transit passengers avoided eye contact as they dashed past me in a desperate attempt to make their own busses and not be late because that-girl-who-trips-on-everything-fell-down-and-might-be-dying. I felt vaguely like a soldier in one of those war movies my slightly less clumsy better half watches. However I managed to resist the urge to stoically proclaim “It’s too late for me…save yourselves!!!” while dramatically performing parking lot triage on myself. I did such a good job I now look like a car crash victim from the knees down. Life lesson: nothing good happens when you hurry, and maxi skirts are evil.
That’s all for now, my loyal Internet following. Check back next week for the latest pupdate and thanks for reading! 🙂