the Dog, the Vet and Me..

I love my guy Samson! He was our first litter pick and he’s never been less that a glorious smiling pooch. I also feel for my buddy in that he suffers allergies that make him screw with his ears, his eyes, chew a paw or two and scratch dance like he’s been hired to direct choreography for Justin Timberlake.

Today was the final straw. Vet time! It seems the only thing that calms the lad is an antibiotic shot and alternative squeeze tube of ear drops.

Samson’s sister Suzie just watches from the sidelines. She has no issues other than addiction to belly rubs. This is not a casual ‘hey rub the hairless skin portion,’ this is an out of body addiction.

I walk in the bedroom and she does a Pethouse spread – belly up. When I’m reclining – she’s looking on with wistful eyes yearning for an opiate tummy rub. While she’s luxuriating in my lap spa Samson is out of view sawing his body in half.

I arrive ten minutes early at vet hoping all pet squirrels have been vaccinated for raccoon. No such luck – the place is overrun by lonesome cats in crates - squirrels missed the bus. I have never put my dogs in crates it reminds too much of a bad children’s show where they toss the extras off a bridge who then are rescued by a timber wolf and live happily on dead birds in the nearby woodlands..

The two of us arrive like it’s a sweet mythical episode of Sons of Anarchy – on a bike - dog pouched in.

We step to the curb like we’ve been chasing hombres up and down Dupont Street. I pull back Samson's hoody so he can see where  needle den is located and  enter like a couple of seasoned road warriors.

Samson then goes about visiting every crate. I’m often fascinated with dog sniffing. At the vet dogs seem to drop their guard realizing this is a medical sanctuary. They will get in a cat’s face without much foreplay and stick that silly mug within an eyeball scratch and keep advancing until ailing cat goes bat psycho.

Over in one corner an aging bull dog looks on as if he has terminal constipation. Samson ignores. The rest of the room remains under mind siege by caged cats.

We had two home cats that lived twenty years. I understand the attachment but up against a dog a cat is wallpaper. Dogs are creative busy not just taking advantage of easy living conditions. Dogs have stuff to do – cats not so much. When a cat gets to a certain age they tune you out in fact they tune everything out but things they swat. Then they begin a new life in deep terrestrial sleep where they will reside until death.

Dogs have shit to do.

Our little girl has an owner schedule. She’s always at attention and ever present. She watches our every move. We’ve taken to calling her mother – that’s what my mom did. You could feel her breath on your ears.

Samson – he’s busy too - yet he knows when to climb in his bed and call it a moment. No such break for the girl. She’s either planning her wedding and our after life!

The vet tells me exactly what I expect. All kids are different – some have asthma, some hate bathing. In this case Samson will be forever challenged by his disadvantage and will have to cope. As far as Suzie – counseling may be in order.