Dog Breath - Just Another Day in my Suburban Prison
Posted: Tuesday, August 18, 2009
by Brianna Popsickle
It went badly from the beginning. I received notification from our vet telling us Casey, our Brittany Spaniel, was due for her spring tune-up,' heartworm, flea medication and vaccines. We had done all of it every year for thirteen years, but this year for various reasons, I called and said we just needed the flea medication.
The girl on the other end of the phone explained we had to do it all, and on top of all that they would also have to do a wellness check'. Cha Ching! This was going to cost me a small fortune!
The girl would not budge; she insisted we must buy the whole package'. After a few minutes I became exasperated. Finally, I played my trump card.
"What's to stop me from just going to a pet store and buying a flea collar?" I sneered.
"You could do that, but they don't work," she replied smugly.
I muttered something like, "You know it, and I know it, this is nothing more than a money grab," and somehow we got disconnected. I called back. I raised two children without ever having to experience the whole head lice' thing, and I was really hoping to raise Casey without ever having to deal with fleas. Defeated, I booked an appointment for the following Wednesday.
Wednesday came and I loaded Casey into the van for the ten-mile drive. As we turned into the vet's parking lot, a silver porche went racing out. I looked at Casey and said, "How much you want to bet that's one of the vets? We own part of that car."
Casey's toenails dug into the floor as I pulled her across the waiting room. The receptionist looked up and said, "I'm sorry I tried to call you, the vet just got called out to an emergency."
"Well I didn't get the message, because I was on my way here." I explained.
I was wondering at this point if there really had been an emergency or if this was all due to the we know this is a money grab conversation.' When she asked if I wanted to reschedule, it was my turn to be smug.
"I'll let you know." I answered, as I followed Casey to the door.
The next day I decided I would rather lose face with the receptionist than have to contend with fleas, so I called back and made an appointment for the following Wednesday at 4:20. Wednesday came and went and I totally gapped the appointment, if I wasn't already in their bad books, I would be now.
Fearful I would be charged for a missed appointment on top of everything else, I came up with a plan. I would go to the vets Thursday and pretend like her appointment was that day at 4:20. It was worth a try.
The next day I loaded Casey into the van once again. My daughter came along to run errands while we were in the appointment, if they agreed to take us.
Casey sat directly behind me in the van and as always sensed where we were going. She was panting uncontrollably, her warm, sick, dog breath on the back of my neck, her scent filled the air. I was feeling queasy before we even got there.
I've never enjoyed our visits to the vet. As a parent I've sat in emergency rooms for hours. I've seen stitches, broken bones and worse, and I can deal with it. But from the moment I step into the vet's office, my throat tightens and I feel like the air is being sucked from me. Let's just say it's never an enjoyable experience for me or for Casey.
For one thing, I don't like other people's pets. O.K., that came out wrong. I like their pets; I just don't like them around my pet. It never fails, there's always some tiny person being led in by their Rotweiller, as I tighten Casey's leash and prepare for her to be eaten. Or worse, someone will come in with one of those tiny, miniscule dogs, and my big brave Spaniel will cower and whimper in the corner. Humiliating. The office cats are everywhere, lying on the phone and on the computer. They jump out at the most inopportune times and scare the crap out of me.
A different receptionist from the last time looked up and asked, "And who do we have here?"
"Casey, for her 4:20 appointment." I lied.
At hearing her name, Casey walked in front of the counter and much to my horror, squatted and peed on the carpet. She'd never done that before. I apologized and the girl replied cheerfully, "That's OK, it's not like it hasn't happened before."
That explained the stench in the room. I tried not to focus on the lump rising in my throat, and the room closing in on me.
There was some confusion behind the desk. They couldn't find Casey's file. I was guessing it was because it was piled in yesterday's' files, but offered nothing.
Finally the girl apologized for the mix up and led us to an examination room. I looked out the window at my daughter, and gave her a thumbs-up. She could go run her errands.
The examination room was tiny with two windows that couldn't open. It was hot and there was no air. I was told the vet would be in shortly. Casey had not stopped panting since we got in the van. Her breath was horrific and now the room, my clothes and my own breath smelled just like hers. Forty minutes later, still waiting I was dying. I looked out to see my daughter had returned. She gave me a wave. I clawed at the window like I was trying to get out. She laughed. I pretended to hang myself, she laughed harder, I put my hands around my throat and pretended to scream, she went hysterical. Then I waited, and waited some more for the vet to appear. Casey continued to pant.
Finally the vet entered. She was a wonderful, caring woman, her love for animals obvious. She put her fingers in Casey's mouth and elsewhere, without flinching. She seemed oblivious to the smell that filled the room. I explained the situation and told her I really only wanted the flea medication. She said that was no problem, that the vaccines weren't entirely necessary given Casey's age and history. She understood perfectly.
Feeling some better I went to the receptionist's desk to pay. She offered me a 15% discount for the day the vet had to cancel our appointment. I started to feel like a horrible person. I clenched my teeth and made a nice comment about the lazy ass cat lying on the phone. I stopped to chat with a woman waiting with her dog. I faked a smile and told her it was the cutest little wiener dog I'd ever seen.
I got in the van and Casey positioned herself behind me, her warm dog breath on my neck once again. I thought I was going to throw up.
"We win!" my daughter blurted out, but turned and saw the expression on my face.
"Oh," she sighed and turned up the radio.
I had to smile as Phil Vassar's, "Just Another Day in Paradise" played on the radio.
"Even when I win, I lose," I thought. "Just another day in my suburban prison."
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Top-level comments on this article: (6 total)I'm with JP. I went to the vet, too but I didn't go as far as to smell Casey's breath. Thank gawd! This was great and hilarious, Brianna.Thanks Avis! Good thing you stopped before getting to the dog-breath, it really can get nasty. Have a great day!
...SMILE...Brianna, this story was entertaining and thanks for sharing. ...SMILE...I'm glad you enjoyed it Dr. Rucker. I was thinking of you on the weekend, wondering if you had sprung the Co-Ed Gym Story on your church members. I hope it helped convey what you were trying to get across.
bars do not a prison make;you must realize that all blessings are also curses and all curses,blessings,in disguise.I ,often alone,would relish such a day,surrounded by loving kids and pets,however fetid smelling and rushed..I really do appreciate my blessings Paul. I wouldn't trade places with anyone (despite the dog-breath days). :) Thanks for reading and commenting. Always good to hear from you.
Hi Brianna--Great article--you had me laughing out loud. Enjoyed it from beginning to end--thanks for writing it and I hope you get paroled soon.SteveLaughing out loud is good! Thanks Steve!
Great stuff, Brianna!I have a Golden Retriever named "Dash." He likes to push a bowling ball around the yard and chews on metal. Go figure!The line about the office cat jumping out made me laugh out loud! I think those folks that work in a vets office must lose their nose to those "aromas."Again, great stuff here!Thanks Ken. Dash sounds like quite a character! I hope you've got video of him bowling. That's priceless!
Brianna-I actually read this a few days ago and just found time to comment! I loved it! I could so picture every moment! Great descriptive voice! I will have to say I agree with you so much! I hate the extra hidden fees and I would react the same way! I guess in the end you are right-we all end up losing! Thanks for such a sweet reminder article! Hope your prison is not too confining today!Hidden fees are everywhere, aren't they Laura? There's no way around them. Thanks so much for taking time to come back to comment, I appreciate it. I'm glad you thought the article was a 'sweet' reminder. Everyone who knows me, knows me to be sweet and cheerful most of the time, even I have my 'off' days! :)
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