What Do You Do When You Live In A Zoo?....August 3, 1999

What Do You Do When You Live In A Zoo?....August 3, 1999

I booked today off from work in anticipation of one appointment:

Reekie and Moo meet the big bad vet.

Truth be known, their vet is the most gentle, charming, endearing woman, and I would never want another person trusted with the care of my pets. She was the unfortunate doctor that had to put Alex down, and she was incredible and unusually comforting to me during the traumatic ordeal. That was the first time I had met her, and she has been my vet ever since.

Me and my menagerie are the group that other vet clientelle dread and hate. Reekie gets very anxious, barks incessantly, whines, and tugs at the leash to get at whatever unsuspecting dog also occupies the waiting area. He is not a vicious dog, he just demands to play. I need not tell you the state of agitation he gets into when someone brings in their kitty, especially when it is in a carrier and Reekie cannot tell what mysterious playmate reside inside. whence at the vet office, Reekie seems to forget the lessons he has learned, particularily the one placing me as Master. Either that, or he mysteriously becomes deaf. I am willing to bet that the receptionist tries to book other clients with a wide time berth in anticipation of Reekie's arrival with me invaritably in tow.

Now, I have Moo as well just to make things that much more interesting. Bearing this in mind, I ellicited the assistance of Quincey for the endeavour. Since she could not find a babysitter for Meris, Pookie, and Ms. Thang, all seven of us had to cram into my Sunfire for the half hour drive. I now know what it feels like to be a sardine. I also have a greater appreciation for anyone who suffers from claustrophobia. I wish I had the resources for a recreation vehicle. It was the drive from hell. The dogs would not settle. Perhaps they knew something was brewing. The kids would not settle because the dogs, in their restlessness, would end up trampling one of them. It was a half hour of whines, both from the kids and dogs. Ms. Thang, not wanting to be upstaged, would elect to shriek anytime a paw landed in her vicinity. I did not even have anything to look forward to in arriving at our destination knowing what lay ahead.

Ironically enough, Moo was the model of perfect pup behaviour this afternoon. Perhaps it was because she was nervous, not knowing what exactly was happening. Perhaps she took the opportunity to show Reekie up where she is usually the one in major poopies. Moo was the only one, kids included, who was able to show a modicum of social grace. I am glad I did not place any bets. Reekie, as usual, did his vet anxiety dance like it was opening night. The kids, who could not paruse a book independently, would try to get their mother's or my attention in the midst of trying to keep Reekie from herniating something. It seemed to take forever for us to get into the examination area.

Alas, we survived. The vet was pleased as usual with Reekie's health, and complimented him and me for his being unusually cooperative while she prodded and poked his pits and parts. Moo was just too charming for words, and milked it for all it was worth. The vet, who adored her, said she was going to grow to be monsterous in proportions. Indeed, at just shy of four months, Moo peaked the scales at 35lbs.

After leaving the vet's, I went next door to see about getting a refill for my antidepressants. Excuse the irony. I was all out, and given not having them for a few days, I could already feel the darkness creeping up on me. While waiting, we took the kids and dogs to the field in back of the building for a run. They all needed it.

The ride home was much more relaxed. The dogs had a run, the kids ran after the dogs having a run, and I was at last medicated.

....Blessed Be