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Monday, January 13, 2014

Wellness Exam Straight Ahead

I don't really have to see Dr. Thompson this morning, do I?







As brave as Becca is when she sees other people with dogs in the desert, this same bravado disappears when we make a trip to the vet for her annual wellness checkup.  As soon as we get inside the building and I weigh her (53 lbs.) she begins to tremble.  Sometimes she trembles so much she sheds fur.  Today she was trembling so much she was drooling a little.  And then--to add insult to injury--she was confronted by three Great Danes who were eager to interact with her.  Becca thought they were ponies.  I watched in amusement while the two women with the Danes (mother and daughter, I suspect) weighed each of them on the scale:  113 lbs., 112 lbs., 111 lbs.  And they had another, a male (presumably even larger), waiting in the van outside.

Once inside the examination room Becca had a thermometer stuck up her butt while I held her.  She never seems especially troubled by this act.  But the waiting for the vet to show is horrendous as she (Becca) moves around the room like a caged wildcat, also drooling in there, but panting like a dog who just ran a marathon.

When the inner door opened and Dr. Thompson entered, Becca calmed down a bit.  The doctor is a wonderful young woman--personable and professional--and she gave Becca an exam that lasted approximately ten minutes.  After pronouncing Becca fit, the doctor tried giving the ungrateful canine two treats, both of which Becca spat out.

When the exam was over, in order to prevent my left arm being ripped out at the socket, I took Becca to the car then went back to pay the bill.  Before leaving the parking lot at the vet's office I gave Becca the two treats she had spat out.  She promptly devoured them.  Then she looked belligerently around the area, perhaps hoping to start something with the big ponies who had intimidated her inside.


5 comments:

Dr. K said...

Our Becca is quite a character.

JACQUELINE said...

Aw.... Poor darling.

Scott said...

That trail ahead for Becca (in your image) is not straight ahead; she's have to be drunk to follow it!

One of our cats, very self-assured and assertive at home, becomes a quivering mass of furry feline jelly as soon as she gets on the vet's cold, stainless steel examination table. But she doesn't spontaneously shed like Becca (thank goodness).

packrat said...

Scott:

We had a cat (Chapulin = Spanish for "grasshopper") who adopted us when we lived in El Paso. She was the fiercest little Tortie you'd ever want to meet, and she intimidated everyone--vets and vet assistants alike. The first time we took Chappy to the vet our precious Tortoise Shell automatically expressed her anal sacs in a Roman-Candle-type expulsion whose contents splatted against a far well. We were mortified, but the vet had seen it all before.

Scott said...

I'm surprised you were even able to get Chapulin to the vet's office in the first place. We had another cat (now deceased two years) who we could not even capture to put in a cat carrier; we had to have an itinerant vet come to the house, where he used a net in a closed room.

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