A Visit To The Vet

A visit to the vet is always eventful. It inevitably leaves me with mixed emotions.

So many breeds of dogs of all ages and sizes, varied behaviours, all so lovely. Most dogs are scared and so even the most ferocious ones are cute at the vet. Then there are some who seem not to care. They just sit staring into space or movements around them. There are also little ones who get excited at the smells and sights of so many other dogs and are eager to make friends with everyone.

There are the odd people who bring in the dogs on behalf of their owners. They have absolute no love for the dogs, no understanding of the poor thing's feelings and absolutely no sympathy for the poor animal. There are some dog-owners who don't care either. These are people who hit them, yell & tug at them, breaking my heart as I watch them, wishing I could save the poor dogs. Nothing can be said, however, so nothing is.

Today, it was a day of spitz-es at the vet. There were about half a dozen of them. One of them just lay on the seat, staring down at the floor, listening to the sounds around him. Another sat comfortably in his owner's arms, looking curiously at the people around him. Then came another little guy, totally shorn and with pink marks where it must have hurt. I can't imagine how the fella must find winter this year, poor baby! I remembered my dear old Sonu. He used to hate the vet too, would shiver in my arms while we were there. Mum used to shave him during summer, so he wouldn't feel too hot and he would look like a little goat. I miss him sometimes. Such an amazing guy he was!

There was a also 6 month Great Dane pup, who was restless and scared, brought to the clinic by a helper. The dumbass had not the faintest of idea as to what the dog was feeling nor did he know how to control it. He kept yelling at him, threatening it with a chain, until the husband and I spoke to the poor animal and he felt obliged to stop the treatment.

My girl Lucky hates the vet and refuses to enter the clinic. Today, she was more well-behaved than most days, so she came in with us. She sat patiently while we waited outside. Our number was 5. Once in, we had to wait for the doctor to finish with his previous patient. The normal routine is that we check her weight first and then get her on the examination table. After the checkup, there may or may not be a shot and we are done. Today, we checked her weight and we waited because the doc had to watch her gait to see if all was okay before we got her on the table. The poor baby had no clue why we were not getting her up on the table. She couldn't wait to leave. So, she kept getting on the weighing machine and pausing for a few seconds and then getting off, hoping that we would get the message! I love how intelligent she can be at times!

After she got on and off the weighing machine about 5 times, I decided to tell her why we were waiting. So much for intelligence, she did not understand a word of what I said. All she wanted was to leave. Fortunately for her, she didn't have to wait much longer. She walked around, the vet had a look, checked her bones and gave her a shot, all done in a few minutes.

Once off the table, she walked out of the clinic with me, without turning back even once. She knew which way was outside and she knew that the husband would follow later (he usually pays the vet & joins us later, with any prescriptions). Smartass (again)! I guess this is what you could call selective intelligence. She selects it when it suits her. Spoilt brat!