The Vet

We took Apple to the vet this morning for her regular check up and to get her up to date with her travel certificates since we'll probably be taking her with us when we head out to Chicago later this month.  

She's a funny dog.  Every time we go to the vet,  she knows the direction we're going but doesn't know until we get there that we're not going to the bark park  -  they're in the same direction about 2 minutes away from one another.

Even when we pull into the parking lot that is so obviously not the bark park, she  seems to recognize the outside and gets excited, whiny and wiggly and she begs to get out of the car.  She'll drag us on the leash towards the front door but as soon as we open it and step inside,  it all comes rushing back to her:

"wait.. this....THIS IS WHERE THEY PUT THINGS IN MY BUTT!"

We walk up to the front desk as she is now pulling on her leash in the opposite direction - trying to get back out towards the door  from whence we came - half obsessed with the other dogs in the waiting room, but more preoccupied with getting the eff out of that office.  

This is why it requires both Mike and I to take Apple, a 9lb dog, to the vet.  One to wrangle her and one to take care of business. While I'm checking in, Mike is dragging Apple to the waiting room.  Apple fidgets and whines - we imagine she's trying to reason with us at this point:

"Seriously guys.  We can go home now.  We're cool.  Let's just go before anyone notices we were even here.  But before we do that, can we just go over there and sniff that Pug's butt - just real quick and then we can just get out of here.  OK, fine.  I don't need to smell that Pug's butt.  Let's just go.  See.  I make sacrifices, you make sacrifices.  Let's go."

When the vet assistant comes out to get us, we walk Apple back to the weigh station and give her the command to get up onto the scale.  She obeys the command instinctively only to realize that as soon as she steps onto the scale she has now willingly participated in her vet appointment.  This sends her into a panic and she jumps off the scale of doom.   We put her back on - a whopping 9.8lbs - she's gained .8lbs.   Piggy.

We're directed to the room where she'll get her check up and the vet assistant takes her temperature by thermometer... in the butthole.  This is the funniest part (for me) because Apple doesn't move.  She's frozen solid. Her eyes go wide and they roll sideways to look at the vet assistant without moving her head.

"W. T. F."

The rest of the appointment goes normally with Apple leaning as far away from the vet as possible, but she's good - no snarling or snapping no matter how much they poke and prod her.  Every time the vet or his assistant would leave the room to get something, she'd  immediately rush towards the door, scratch and then look back at Mike and me:

"Ok guys, now's our chance... they won't notice if we leave now."

The vet comes back with Apple's bordetella vaccine - which is a spray in the nostril.  Apple sneezes dog snot all over my arm right after it's applied and gives us all a look:

"Oh god.  What was that... that was..."

This look becomes a glare as she realizes...

"You did this to me.  You two. "

At this point, she's stopped her little nervous shake because obviously her anxiety has been replaced with animus. Her evil Eric Cartman inner voice has returned.

"I hate you so very very much."

The vet's assistant brings out a really good treat - the kind where on any other day of the week Apple would have scarfed it before anyone had a chance to take it from her.  Apple turns her nose up at the offering.  The vet's assistant tells me I should try.  Apple looks at me:

" You are dead to me."

We hand Apple off to get her nails clipped while we go back out to pay up and pick up flea meds, etc.  When she comes back in the arms of the vet's assistant 3 minutes later, she's happy as a clam.  She knows it's all over and she is totally pumped to see us again.  God bless dogs.

She still wants out, but since I've got to wait for certificates and vaccination records, I tell Mike to just take her outside.  He does.  And she's back in about a minute.  Thus begins the final ritual at the vet - the Apple in, Apple out walk-a-thon.  

I've still got to pay up and Apple wants out.  So Mike takes her out.  As soon as she's out,  she pees a smidge and realizes I'm not outside and wants back in.  As soon as she's in, she realizes THIS IS WHERE THEY PUT THINGS IN MY BUTT! and wants out.  As soon as she's out, she pees a smidge, realizes I'm again inside and wants back in.  This goes on and on until I've finally finished things up - so maybe 10 minutes of Mike walking in and out of the door... with tiny tinkles between.    

So now we're back and I've got to figure out how to give a dog that is only occasionally food-motivated an oral tablet.   A piece of cheese just doesn't cut it.  I've even hidden tablets in bits of chicken only to find the chicken abandoned on the carpet minutes later and her tiny face watching it from under the bed.  She knows it's evil.  She knows there's medicine in it. 

Her favorite human food treat is scrambled eggs which she doesn't get very often... so I'm giving that a shot.  

Apple, you are one spoiled dog.