Saturday, January 22, 2011

Dog Fine.

And for $167.00 you TOO can find out that your dog doesn't have cataracts! Well, that's not entirely true. He doesn't have cataracts, and it did cost $167, but they did some other unmentionable things to the dog while were there and gave us some heartworm pills all for the low, low price of $167.00.

Going to the vet with 4 children closely rivals one of Dante's circles of hell. Our vet has a rather haphazard parking lot; lots of grass for dogs to pee/poop/create bazillions of "interesting" smells in, and a waiting room. When I pulled up this time, a lady was bringing her GIGANTIC German Shepherd (whom she clearly couldn't control) into the vet. We were a few minutes early anyway, so I said we'd sit in the parking lot and wait to see if she went to the back exam rooms prior to us going in. Well, the minutes ticked slowly by, and the lady was still in the waiting room and Silas has now figured out where we are. He began huffing and puffing and whining in the back. The kids were getting hot in their coats and hats, still buckled in their carseats. So, I ordered all the kids to enter the building and sit quietly and inform me through the window when Diesel (as we later found out was the German's name) was taken back.

Silas is 10, yet spry (see previous post). He pulled and twisted and tied me in knot, after knot in the parking lot. I felt like a whirling dervish as I tried to counteract his perpetual motion. Lydia, the spy, kept widening the blades of the blinds to give me this panicked look of "stay outside!!!"
I warned the next customer that she might want to carry her ball-of-fluffiness-dog in as there was a dog in there who might eat him. She had 3 to bring in, so she assumed her "protective dog-owner" face and went on it. She came out and told me that I should take Silas straight through the door in the waiting room and through the door to the back exam rooms, but right now it was locked. She'd get it fixed up for me. (A little Southern for y'all). So, the temperature dropping in the waning afternoon sun, I begin to enjoy the warmth of my own adrenaline as I prepared to enter.
After the all clear from Mrs. 3-Dog and Silas dragged me into the building and using my gentle mommy voice say, "C'mon guys, get up and follow me." Silas, happy to see his family and terrified at being at the vet, nearly knocks down Simeon, who begins to cry. I herd the dog and family back into the waiting room which is approximately 4x8 feet with two doors. I shut both doors, take the dog off the leash and pick up Simeon. I should mention that in this very small room, is a doggy-exam table which is 2x4 feet. Oh, and there's a counter for their notes/dog treats/shots (that's another 1.5x4 feet). Not much room for people.
Now begins the shedding. When Silas gets nervous his fur literally flies out of him at an alarming rate. It is the craziest thing, but it's true. The room is warm. It is getting hotter. There is no vet coming. We are breathing dog fur.
I try to use more calming words and talk about the feline chemotherapy poster on the wall, or the chart with appropriate weights for different breeds of dogs. My dog is drooling everywhere.
The vet AND assistant enter. We are 7 people, and a dog, in a very small space. "What, didn't you bring any more kids with you?" asks the vet. "Nope, these were all I could find in the parking lot" hahahaha!!! Oh, buddy, you'd better start your vet thing as I'm getting a wee bit claustrophobic, and don't make any more criticisms about my family size!
So, the poor dog got a shot, blood drawn, something to check his stool, his eyes examined, his belly poked, and all while up in the air on the exam table. He was very good. And the kids were most impressed that he didn't cry when he got his shots.
The kindly assistant asked if I'd like to check out IN the exam room rather than walk back out into the waiting room and do it there. YES, please.
She then said, "Do you need some help getting to your car." As always, in my pride I said, "Oh no, I got it." Simeon is still whimpering, so I'm carrying him and the dog is SO eager to get out of there that I get spun around, the dog leaves the room by going around the corner and I am literally dragged into the wall and my face is sideways. I feel the cool of wood paneling. "Um, you know what, yes, I'll be glad to let you take him." She gently takes the leash and leads the merry band out to the van. The door to the trunk isn't even fully open and the dog has already leapt in. Kids follow. Ah, serenity now ;0)

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