So the clinic is back to humming with the sound of wagging tails and purring cats.  Never a dull moment here.  Today, Crash, a young boy Visla came in for his first procedure.  He didn't seem very smart.  He drooled a lot, and stepped on everyone's paws including his own.  But he must have had some kind of sense that he was at the clinic for a reason, because he was not going to go quietly.  He had a rope for leading people around his neck, but instead of his doing the leading he planted his feet and tried to drag the humans backward.  When Vonnie crouched down to hold his head up, he would roll over.  When they tried to keep him on his side, he would stand up!  Everyone thought that he was just being difficult, bulldog-headed as some might say.  Sweet Sally just figured that Crash was smart enough to have figured out that he was set to get some pinch medicine, and was fighting to get out of it.  I, on the other paw, have unique insight into the communications styles of the dog, and I speak canine body language better than anyone.  Crash was having fun. 
Some dogs grow up always rough playing with their brothers and sisters.  Bea yells at me at least once a day when I bite her too hard.  It's just fun to get a rise out of her!  I never really get to play with the people like that though.  Sometimes my dad holds me down when I nibble too hard in the mornings, but I don't ever get to fight back.  Dad's just too strong.  Today I saw what real strength was;  Crash was being held on the front by mother, on the back by Sweet Sally, Vonnie was working to cover his mouth with a blue mouth-closer and Dad was figuring out how to get in on it too.  That boy jumped, played, twisted and turned.  Finally, Dad gave him one big pinch in the back end and it was game over.  Crash slept so quietly after that too, long after his procedure was over.  I took a long nap myself after all the excitement.  Tonight, I think I'll pretend to be a Visla when Bea comes around the corner.....

It's not as easy as it looks

This blog is the first sad story I've had to tell. You see, despite my happy-go-lucky life here at the veterinary clinic with my mom and dad, not everything that happens here is fun. Today was a perfect example of one of those days.
The morning started out as any other with dog and cat visits; lots of wagging tails and barking banter. Thankfully, we had completed our lunch trot around the building, making sure all the the right spots were appropriately scented, when the sick cat came in.
I know it was sick because he wasn't moving, or breathing, like any cat I had ever seen before. Instead of a normal cat voice, he had a low gurgle that seemed to bubble as he breathed. My mother and her team quickly surrounded him and soon, out came all the tubes and wires. The look on my mother's face was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. She was worried. What exactly what she was worried about I wasn't sure, but it's not often that I see her worried, so I knew it wasn't good.
Once all the machines were set up, the cats' breathing seemed to calm down, but then so did all the other parts of him. With each breath he seemed to be saying, "Rest, just rest". I don't think mother speaks cat any better than me because she did everything but rest. She kept looking first at the sick cat, then at some books, then at the machines and then back to the cat. Soon another cat arrived and red syrup was being taken out of one and then given to the other.
"Rest, just rest... just rest" was all that cat would say with each labored breath. Before long, that's just what he did. I heard his heart stop before mother did, and still the worried expression never left her face. I thought that she would have been happy that the cat got what he wanted. As she talked into the black button machine on the wall, I could see her sharing the story all over again.
It's weird that the cat was the sick one, but everyone else seemed to be feeling the pain.
That night at home the water came from mother's eyes, and I did my job and cleaned her face and let her hug me. Although I wish I could have done more to help her today, I know that my very presence that night was enough. After all, this is me we're talking about.

Life is never dull at a veterinary clinic. Sure sometimes all I do is lie here and daydream about chasing lizards. Other times it is my sole responsibility to protect this clinic from all intruders. Today, two men came to fix the rumble machine in the back; the one the technicians put all the wet clothes in. I warned him when he came in that I was watching him. But I waited until all his work was finished and he was walking back by me to let him have it. My timing was perfect, and my voice hit just the right note to make him jump straight in the air! As expected he quickly left my domain, so I would not have to repeat myself. I honestly don’t know what they would do here without me.

Sometimes, I think they should let me help more. One of the pets that came in today was not as happy as most. It was one of those cats. Now, I don’t profess to be very knowledgeable about cats the way I am about most things. But this one was especially difficult to figure out. He began yelling at mother and sweet Sally from the moment they entered the room with him. Sally must have been especially concerned because she layered on some thick green hand coverings before going in. I don’t know why the cats would prefer those to being petted with bare hands, but then again cats don’t make a lot of sense to me. One time, a wise old cat came in to the clinic. I tried to play with him and he just wanted to smack me in the face. Now I like a good game of face smacking as much as anyone, but I sensed that his intent was different.

Anyway, I don’t speak cat very well, but I can discern a lot just from how things are said. That cat was yelling at the top of his lungs all sorts of things like: “Get your hands off me”, “I didn’t say you could touch that”, and “Just wait until you take those gloves off”! I just knew that if I had been allowed in that room that I could have straightened the whole thing out. You see, most pets don’t realize that mother doesn’t really want to hurt them. It just looks that way. Finally, the visit ended without incident. The cat crawled back into his mobile home and didn’t say another word. Sadly he did not leave behind any of those tasty nuggets that they make. Oh well, maybe next time.

Monday August 31st

I had a great weekend! Usually I just hang around the large den mother calls home; lie around, chase Bea until she hides under the bed, eat, sleep and hunt for lizards around the small blue lake behind the house. This weekend, I actually got to leave the den and go somewhere other than the clinic. Don't get me wrong, I love the clinic, but if I can sniff out new territories to conquer I gladly accept the challenge. Admittedly, this challenge proved difficult.
We went somewhere called the PetExpo. It was in a big building I've never been to before and was filled with more dogs than I had ever seen together in one place. I was sporting my school girl outfit that everyone seems to love to see me in. Of course the scary part was that I was there without my best friend, Bea. Since Bea came to live with us about 9 months ago we've been literally inseparable. That's in part because Bea has what mother calls “separation anxiety”, which just means she gets terribly upset if I get to go somewhere and she doesn't. But this weekend, my sisters Becky and Tara were staying over, so Bea could stay with them. I know that they're not a real substitute for me, but Bea doesn't always pay attention to the details.
With Bea at home, that meant that I had to tackle the PetExpo by myself. So I tried to put on a brave face, but mother must have known that I was scared and carried me around instead of making me walk. I think that she was afraid that some of the big dogs would think I was a squeaky toy by mistake. The PetExpo had dogs, dogs, dogs, and more dogs. It also had a few of those short-haired whiskery things with the humming machines inside that Bea calls “cats”, along with feathered creatures, cupcakes, fancy outfits and comfy beds; so many things to sniff and investigate it was a true pet paradise.
I got to meet quite a few people too, everyone always going on and on about how cute I am and what a fascinating dog mixture it took to make me. I would be lying if I didn't admit to loving every minute of it. I just wish those people would show their love for me with treats instead of rubbing my head. Don't get me wrong, I like a good head rub as much as the next dog, but treats people, treats -- that's what I live for.
After awhile my buddy Ruben (of my previous post Broken face Ruben) showed up and I was SO glad to see him. My tail came up and I jumped right out of mother's arm to bite his fluffy head. I can't really explain why I was so happy to see him, but I knew everything would be alright with him there. I guess maybe Bea isn't the only one with the separation anxiety. Just don't tell my mom.