In Light of a Near Tragedy...

     I don't have kids and I'm not sure that I ever will. I do, however, have dogs and I believe with all my heart that dogs cause nearly as many gray hairs as do children. It's amazing how attached we become to them, despite random episodes of crapping on the floor, two am potty visits, fits of vomiting for no good reason, and mild to extreme destructive behaviours. They really are not that far from children, if you ask me. So, my beloved Ringo the Neurotic just scared the holy bejeebus out of me by "visiting" the neighbors without my knowledge. While he was socializing with the people four houses down, I was simultaneously yelling that Ringo was missing, throwing off panamas and pulling on less 'questionable' clothing, running up and down the stairs and playing every possible bad dog-runs-off scenario in my head. A whole three minutes later Ringo was found safe and sound in the neighbor's back yard and my heart rate has returned to less than that of a hummingbird's. In honor of his safe return and no apparent need to take him to the vet, I would like to share this semi-related, unpublished post from a while back:

     I'm sure everyone has a veterinarian horror story or two (I know I do), but in my attempt to focus on the positive in my life, I would like to spend a few minutes to talk about the elusive, great vet. It seems that I never get to bring my dogs in to the vet's office for our regular check-ups. The exams get lumped into what ever emergency has befallen one of my seemingly self-destructive pups. To be fair, none all of our emergency visits have been the dogs' fault, but I never hear my friends or coworkers say, "can you believe that Fluffy nearly severed her ear on barbed wire?" or "did I ever tell you about the time that Roscoe fell into a near coma because of his silly tryptophan allergy?" I know every pet owner has had a close-call story, but this is more about the rare, fantastic veterinarian and less about the reason for the visit. This is, namely, because the reason for the visit was pretty lame.
     
    Ringo decided that he did not want to eat for a few days and me, being the overprotective dog-mom that I am, decided that two days of low apatite warranted a vet visit. There are people out there who drag their kids to the emergency room at the slightest sign of a cough or cold , so I feel justified in my visit. I am admittedly *slightly* protective of Ringo. But I digress. It is a rare person who can not only calm down the nervous, quivering, emotional creature in front of them but who can also manage to comfort the dog too. I generally don't like doctor's offices, or doctors of any ilk, but my veterinarian rocks. She is downright fantastic and were it not for the requisite baby talk that is used by all animal health professionals, I would love to have her as my own 'girly' doctor. 


     My OB-GYN does not rub my ears and tell me how darling I am. Nor does she tell me that I am still beautiful despite having gained a little weight since our last meeting. If she did, I would probably dread my yearly visit a little less. (Gyno's everywhere take note. I am giving you gold!) But back to the vet; I was fortunate to find a incredible animal doctor is both a fantastic health care professional and genuine people person. That is so rare in both the people and animal health care fields. I can't say that he had the best day (unless a blood test and thermometer stuck in your nether regions is your idea of a good time. I'm not here to judge), but the doc seems to think that he will be fine. I trust her.