What? A story of body fluids is loosely connected to Earth Day.
BC The Star
The Old Man
So last Friday I take BC (border collie) to the vet for his two year check up. I go alone.
When we first got BC the teens could not be parted from him. He was their baby and for every little step in his growth and life’s experiences they wanted to be there. They still love him and coo at him and call him to them around the house. But, you know who walks the dog. Feeds the dog. Cleans up the dog’s poop. Mom and dad that’s who.
You know how my husband pulled the “you’re a teacher card” the whole time the kids were growing up?” So he didn’t EVER help them with their homework or those horrid quarterly projects?
Well, he also does that with the veterinary visits. I worked in vet clinics for several years.
Ancient history research will show that I worked as an “Animal Health Technician,” that I majored in animal science at Los Angeles Pierce College straight out of high school, and that my first “break” from college resulted in my discovering I did not want to spend the rest of my life getting pooped, peed, and vomited on.
Not that I couldn’t handle it. I have a clear memory of pulling a shift at the emergency clinic, of a Great Dane coming in with Bloat (what Marley had twice) and of the vet on duty performing emergency surgery. As a licensed vet tech, I was monitoring the anesthesia. This happened around dinner time and someone had just dropped off my Whataburger. The vet working that night was from Las Vegas and he had a hottie blond wife. She stopped by to visit and was appalled when she walked in and found her husband elbow deep in the Great Dane’s gut, me on a stool by the anesthesia gas machine, watching the surgery, and eating my burger while looking in on the Dane’s intestines. Truly. Didn’t bother me one little bit. But that was, like, thirty years ago. I believe every cell in my body has changed about four times since then and I am now a totally different person. Blood and guts and body fluids are not my everyday if you know what I mean.
Anyways. Since I am an “expert” I get the privilege of taking the dogs to the vet.
BC has always been freaked out at the vet. The first time we went the boy accompanied me. When BC freaked out at the vet trying to look into his ears with the stethoscope, the pup shot his anal gland fluids all over the frickin place. The Old Man, who was lying on the ground, got wind of this and decided to join the melee by passing stinky sneaker farts. Teen Son was horrified and amazed that the whole examination process did not shut down and move to another room. He hasn’t been back to the vet with me since.
So Friday, BC is sniffing around the exam room, having a hell of a time with all the smells and I’m thinking maybe this won’t be so bad after all. He’s two now. Mature adult dog. The vet comes in and says get him up on the table. As I place him on the exam table he immediately starts going into the freak zone. I arm lock his head with one arm and wrap the other around his body and start to lay my weight into him as he equally tries to scramble out from under me.
NO. Down boy.
The tech, who is right behind me, tells me to let her hold him. That way he can see me. I know she thinks she can do a better job because she does this twenty times a day, every day. The vet tells me to let the girl hold him. The vet also calls for back up and two more techs come into the exam room.
Seeing me step away from the table and having three people try to hold him down turns BC into a paranoid schizophrenic freak. The vet thinks they can handle it and starts to move in towards his ear with the stethoscope. I can literally see the whites of his eyes and as he starts the insane doggie dance I warn the crew,
He expresses his anal glands when he’s scared.
The tech on the rear end duty chirps,
Yes, he does.
The three techs are practically lying on him, he’s still scrambling, and the vet is still trying to get that monstrosity of a torture device, the stethoscope, in the spoiled brat of a dog’s ear.
As the observer of this fiasco I see a pool of yellow fluid expanding under BC.
He’s peeing, I tell them.
The vet, being the smart one in the group, steps away.
Because she stepped away, he calms just a bit and the girls, who are really giving this their all and have their heads tucked into the process of holding him down say,
We’ve got him. (You sure about that?)
The vet steps in again, pee and all.
BC has got his eyes cranked at the 1 AM position and when he sees her coming he puts all forty pounds into lifting the three girls just enough to whirl his legs like a hamster on a rodent wheel. The doggie piss, which a moment before had been pooled under him, is now being sprayed into the air by his flailing limbs. It looks like a yellow, liquid, Ferris wheel of urine fun, flying out from under the cartoon blur that has replaced my lovable pet.
At two feet away I see it coming and dodge.
The vet gets it all up her front and right in her face as she takes a step back.
I'm horrified, yet stifling a giggle all the while.
She tells the girls to clean him up and goes into the exam room next door to take care of a cat.
As she exits, she odes not even look at me.
When she comes back I ask if maybe I should hold him and this time they let me.
After a cursory exam she leaves and the techs try to call me out of the room.
I feel bad about bringing this up, but I really don’t want to come back.
He’s got a rash on his belly. I wanted her to take a look at it.
The techs look at me incredulously.
The vet sees three other pets before venturing back in.
The whole ordeal cost me $259.65.
Seriously? I don't remember.Do I look like I would cause so much trouble?
