So the other day, we had to take the dogs to the vet. Little Vanilla Bean needed her 14 week shots, and big dog Frank needed to get his mouth looked at.
Now, we had had it checked no more than a week before, so we sort of knew what was coming. I knew he’d need surgery, and that he’d have to be sedated to be x-rayed. I explained the whole process of sedation to Chewey–that they’d give the dog some medicine that would make him go to sleep for a little while so that he wouldn’t feel anything while they operated on him.
Going to the vet with two dogs–one a puppy who hasn’t had any leash training, and the other one who LOVES people but is not as fond of other dogs (and is huge, to boot)–and two kids who will not stop talking for more than five seconds was, well, a comedy of errors. Just getting out of the car was a kick in the pants.
When we got there, I gave Miss Vanilla Bean to Monkey, hoping she could control the little dog. But Vanilla Bean was not happy with being leashed, and Monkey kept shouting, “No! NO! NO! NO!” in a voice that sounded like something between a foghorn and a siren, and was probably six times as annoying.
“Monk, pick her up.”
“I don’t know how to pick up a dog!” she complains.
This is my child who is in a gifted class, but she can’t pick up a dog and has somehow forgotten how to peel a banana, but more on that later.
Vanilla had almost squirmed all the way out of her collar by the time I just decided to pick her up myself.
Then I had to get Frank out of the back of the car. Bear in mind, we are at a vet that shares a parking lot with a freaking 7-11. There are cars going in and out like crazy, and a little yappy dog was tormenting my 100 pound German Shepherd from the sidewalk.
Frank started yodeling. I’m not kidding. Yodeling. (I’m not the only one who thought it was like yodeling. The vet tech must have tried for five minutes to get him to do it for the vet. It. Was. THAT. Awesome.)
I swore, in that moment, I would never attempt this alone again. Texted M from the parking lot with Please tell me you’re on your way here. I’m a hot mess.
Eventually, I managed to wrangle Vanilla and Frank into the building. Both kids were chatting like there was nothing unusual about what’s going on, I had a twenty pound puppy squirming in my arms, and Frank started turning circles and yodeling. Give the dog some lederhosen and an accordion, stat!
While I tried to check in, Frank, who couldn’t seem to stop turning in circles because he was on a no-pull leader (which turns him around the minute he starts pulling too hard), started knocking everything off the shelves with his butt. Swept the table clear of brochures. Then banged into a bookcase filled with samples of God-only-knows-what, but there were boxes strewn all over the floor.
It was that awesome.
Monk started to pick up whatever it was, but somehow managed to wrangle herself under Frank’s feet. They both fell down in the middle of the waiting room.
By the time we sat down at a bench, Frank had calmed down to the point where I guess he felt yodeling was unnecessary, and I was sweating like it’s July. In Brazil. After I’d just wrestled a bear. And maybe a jaguar. Yeah, a jaguar.
But we were hanging. Until we got called back to a room, that is.
Frank started yodeling again. The vet tech looked at me and said, “Wow. Listen to that.”
“Yeah.” I tried–I really did–to not sound too annoyed, because Lord, who knew my dog yodeled? Who knew it was THAT annoying?
Oh, right, I did.
In any case, we got back to a room. When the vet came in, the children started asking questions and talking to the vet like they had never seen another living soul in their lives.
“Vanilla’s a lover,” Chewey said. “She’s my lover.”
Must. Resist. Face/palm.
Monkey, who was now not-really-in control of Vanilla, piped up with, “She can’t be your lover, because then you’d be married! And then you’d have puppies instead of kids!”
“No I wouldn’t!”
“Yes you would! They’d be dog/human hybrids!” Maniacal laughter followed. (She is in the gifted class, after all. Even if she doesn’t know how to peel a banana.)
Oh, sweet mother of God.
I gave both kids the stink-eye, which they both pointedly ignored.
When the vet knelt to look in Frank’s mouth, Chewey piped up with, “My mom says you’re going to put him to sleep. Are you going to put him to sleep?”
The vet gasps and looks completely horrified. “No! Of course not! Why would you say that?”
I don’t even remember what Chewey said while I tried to explain our earlier conversation about sedation.
At some point, Vanilla wrapped herself around the vet’s legs. Or, at least, wrapped her leash around the vet’s legs. Suddenly, Monk started in with her, “NO!NO!NO!NO!” foghorn/siren thing, and yanked on the leash.
The vet froze, and I took the leash from Monk and unwrapped the vet.
Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
I’m not sure I’ve ever needed a nap so badly in my whole life.
I’m happy to report that everyone is fine. Vanilla had her shots, Frank had his surgery and seems to be doing well, even though every once in a while, he looks at M like, “Hey. Got the munchies over here. Can I get some Jack in the Box?”
Good times, people. Good times.