So, last week I got to meet my Grandma and go the the vet. I didn't want to go at all. The van ride was fun, but there was no big back seat, only single seats, and I don't fit on those, so I had to sit on the FLOOR. It wasn't too bad. My Grandma's really nice.
When I got to the door of the veterinary office I said, "Uh uh. No way." But my Mommy doesn't seem to listen to me when I do such things, and so suddenly I was inside. Everyone was very friendly, and my Grandma came in too, so it wasn't so bad. Then they made me climb up on a scale thingie, and I heard them say I was 60.4 pounds. I'm hoping that number makes them all think I need more cookies to eat, but so far the cookie count has remained pretty steady.
There were lots of dogs and people in the waiting room. It was kinda fun. And so many people who work at the clinic came to love me. I was in Heaven! They stroked and patted me and told me I was handsome, and best of all, they showed their affection for me with cookies. It was cookiepalooza in that office. Yum. I think I like it there after all.
We waited for a while, and I was a very good dog. I only got into a disagreement with one dog, but she wasn't all that friendly. Everything was actually going fine until my Grandma pulled back on my leash (I think she was just being protective for me) so we both snarled a little as we said goodbye.
Then, we went into this little room. I immediately put my front paws on the counter and looked out the window. Mommy didn't think this was appropriate and made me get down, but I cannot figure out why. I had a great view of the parking lot from there.
After a few minutes Dr. Moffatt came in. He sat down and I climbed up and gave him a great big hug. He laughed and hugged me back. He liked me! He really liked me! He checked me out from nose to tail and said I seemed to be in excellent shape (why thank you very much). He also said that he didn't think I was a year and a half old. He said he'd bet I was closer to a year. Mommy said that made more sense with my maturity level. I'm not sure what that means exactly, but I'm certain I was besmirched.
He also said he was going to spare me the thermometer up the butt treatment since I'd only just arrived and the stress of the trip could cause a different temperature anyway. I don't care what his reasoning is...anyone who opts NOT to stick something in there, is good people in my book.
We left with some powder for my food for next week. I don't know what kind of flavour it is, but I'm hoping for lobster (or that prime rib thing...maybe pork roast?). They said something about it being a follow up to my worming medicine (from Florida). I'm not sure what that means, but I sure hope they don't think I'll be eating worms. (Yikes, what if the powder is worm flavoured?!?!?)
Anyway, we drove back home in Grandma's van. (Mommy wasn't allowed to drive until the vertigo cleared up. She says it's okay to tell everyone that this past Friday was her first "good day" and that she's been pretty much symptom free all this week. She's supposed to try wearning herself off the medication now, but refuses to. She doesn't want to have another "lost week." Whatever THAT means...) After we got home I played with Hudson and had dinner. Then we all watched TV.
It was Supernatural night, and Mommy really loves that show. I actually think the episode (5.12 Swap Meat) couldn't possibly have been their best, but if Mommy really loves it, I'll give it another chance. (She says this week will really be awesome - a mythology episode and some angel guy named Castiel is back.) She did not mention any dogs, so how good could it possibly be?
Anyway, that's enough for now. It's dinnertime somewhere, and I think I'll go bring that to Mommy's attention.
Take care,
Rudy, happy vet client and online TV critic
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