Trip to the Vet's
This morning my mom called to ask for my help in dragging her latest dog (affectionately nicknamed Dogzilla) to the veterinarian's. Dad had a doctor's appointment himself, and couldn't go. Mom was afraid that Dogzilla would overwhelm her, since she's a very muscular dog.
We speculate that Dogzilla is a cross between a scottie and a bulldog. She has the looks of a scottie, but is packed with solid muscle and bone, with wide, gaping jaws and sharp teeth. She's actually a very sweet dog by nature, but mom and dad are older and she is still young and plays hard. Additionally, she hates the vet with a passion.
When we got to the vet's, Dogzilla was intially fine. But when we went into the actual room, she grew nervous. And when the nurse decided to take her temperature, Dogzilla went into action. It took three of us to try to hold her down, she was howling as if she were being tortured... and the nurse hadn't even begun to insert the thermometer.
By the time it was over, Dogzilla was muzzled, the nurse decided to forget about the stool sample and temperature, and after tremendous struggle and plaintive howling, blood was drawn and two injections were given.
As we were getting ready to leave, my mom asked "If this is how bad it is at the vet's, how will we ever get her groomed?" I turned to the vet and asked that he provide some tranquilizers to get Dogzilla through such an ordeal. He agreed to write up a prescription right away, as he wiped the sweat off his brow. I told mom that I was taking Dogzilla outside while she paid the bill.
While we waited, I told myself to make sure mom didn't leave without those precious tranquilizers, since Dogzilla is due to be groomed this week. When mom finally walked up to us, I asked "Did you get the tranquilizers?"
"Yes," said mom. "And he gave me some for Dogzilla, too."