Sunday, 10 March 2013

I Had To Think About It



I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but my daughter went with her family to spend the weekend in Lake Louise. She left her bulldog Lola with us for a weekend of farting and slobbering. Lola wasn’t much better than me either. It turns out that Lola just loves French fries from Chicken-On-The-Run. I’m not sure if fried foods are good for dogs, but if they can handle eating dead birds, vomit on the sidewalk, smell every piece of shit they come across and drink from roadside puddles, then, I would bet they can handle it.

I took Buster to the vet last week for his annual shots and to listen to what a bad pet owner I am. This vet (notice how I restrained myself and didn’t say “This fucking vet”) goes through the same song and dance every time Buster and I go there. She will first go over all of the information about Buster that I already know, like his weight and his under bite. Then she looks into his eyes, evaluating whether she should mention that his tear ducts leak. That’s why he gets crusty tears I suppose.

She feels him all over like he is in the running for the best of show at the Westminster Kennel Club. She then says what she says every year. “You know he is underweight, what kind of food does he eat?” I tell her he eats the food she recommended and his bowl is always full, so he eats what he wants when he wants. I can’t believe that not having food out would be better for Buster, but I know she is thinking of saying it.

She nods her head and then looks in his mouth. Here it comes…

“There is a lot of plaque on his teeth perhaps that might be why he isn’t eating very well.”

I say “He doesn’t seem to have any trouble eating at all.”

She checks his heart, smells his breath and sticks her finger in his ass. That is fine for a dog as small as Buster, but you couldn’t pay me to do that for an Irish Wolf hound. I thought my job sucked at times. She then goes out and comes back with the nose drops and the needles which she jabs him with. He doesn’t like it too much, but I can tell he wants to get the hell out of here more than I do.

Wait for it… “I’m a little concerned about the plaque on his teeth and he is a little under weight. That might be because of his teeth, or there might be something else causing the problem.” (What fucking problem?) I’d like to get her (him you twit) in to clean the teeth and do blood work to see if his internal organs are functioning properly.”

“Ahhh…how much would that be?” I said just to egg her on a little.

“Probably no more than $1000, unless we find some problems.” I nod and mumble “That seems like a fair price.” I don’t think getting the plaque removed from my teeth is worth it. I wouldn’t pay that for Louise. Lucky for her, she has medical coverage. I love Buster, but why would I pay more than he is worth to fix him? For that price I could buy four dogs from the Humane society. Come to think about it, between the license fee and vet bills, I figure Buster owes me a couple of thousand bucks.

I told the vet that I will think about what she said and I think I have kept my word. I had to think about it while I was writing the blog.

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