About a week or so ago, my family got a new puppy. She's the cutest little Cocker Spaniel you ever saw, and is pretty well-behaved, as far as puppies go. We got a male Cocker Spaniel a few years ago named Maximus Arelius, and have been wanting to breed him, so we needed to find him a girlfriend. Our new puppy's name is Lucilla (Caesar's sister off of Gladiator) but we call her Luci. Max and Luci sound so cute together (if not a little generic) don't they? Though when we brought Luci to meet Max, my first thought was "Gross! Stop sniffing her, you pedophile!!" It was seriously like Jacob and Renesmee, for all you Twilight fans. I guess it's a good thing she'll grow fast. Anyways, I was making Luci a vet appointment for her next set of shots, and I got to thinking that I better get Max current as well. Zane asked me to schedule an appointment for his chocolate Lab Molly while I was at it. Well, the big vet day was today. I brought Max in at 10:00 for grooming and shots and was supposed to pick him up at 3:00 when I brought Molly in for her shots. Everything went according to plan until I arrived at the farm to pick up Molly for her appointment. Now Molly is a big dog, probably about as big as me (you people know I'm not exaggerating). I couldn't get her into the crate in the back of my SUV. I sat there not knowing what to do until my father-in-law showed up and helped me lift her in. This should have been the first clue to the trouble to come. When I got to the vet's office, I opened the lift gate thinking Molly would jump right out. She wouldn't. I tried coaxing her, pulling on her, and I even tried tipping the crate so she'd fall out (on her nose, hopefully). All to no avail- she wouldn't budge. By this time I was late and frustrated. I sat there trying to formulate my next plan when some guy and his bulldog came out of the building. Molly instantly jumped out of her crate and ran to sniff her new friend's rear. What is it about dogs? Anyways, the man hurriedly drove off, and I was left to getting Molly into the building by myself. She came as far as the sidewalk in front of the doors, then stopped dead. It was at this time that I first realized Molly didn't have her collar on. I tried pushing, pulling, tugging on her ears, anything to get her through the doors. Again, she wasn't budging. Of course there wasn't anybody at the front desk to help me; that would be too easy. So I whipped out the cell phone to call Zane or my father-in-law for help, but OF COURSE, it picks right now to decide to be broken. At my limit, I spy some collars for sale hanging on a rack just inside the door. I ran in and grabbed one and ripped it open (I would have asked, but there was STILL nobody at the front desk). I ran back outside triumphantly, but stopped short. There was no Molly to be found. I called her stupid name for five minutes until I spied her running around across the street by the bowling alley. Finally she came back, and I snapped the stolen collar on her neck. Now that I had something to grip, I again tried to drag her through the doors. As I dragged, she pulled against me. I'm sure it would have been quite comical if anybody had been watching, and a video of my tug-of-war ordeal would have been a big hit on You Tube. But as it was, there was still nobody around to help me. I eventually gave up and sat down. With one hand gripping Molly's 'new' collar so she wouldn't run away again, I sat there and cried. Sobbed might be a better word. Finally, somebody came to the front desk and saw me sitting outside crying and came to my rescue. She found a leash I could borrow and I pulled on the leash while she pushed on Molly's haunches from behind. You might think that's the end of my story, but it isn't. Once inside, we got Molly onto a scale. She's a whopping 65 pounds, give or take (no wonder I couldn't move her sorry butt). Then I had to wait to see the vet, which meant about 10 minutes of sitting with a nervous dog's head in my lap. Molly was panting like she'd just run a marathon, and was drooling great drops of doggie slobber all over my new jeans. I tried to get her to move her head, but she wouldn't budge it from my lap. When the vet finally came in, it looked like I had wet my pants and dripped all the way down to my ankles. Even my shoes were wet. I'm not kidding here, people. After her exam, shots, and a clean bill of health, I had to get Molly back out to the SUV and in her crate. Of course, she wouldn't jump in, so I had to lift her in myself (the lady at the front desk had disappeared again, and there was no one else around to help). I probably gave myself a hernia, but somehow got her in. I then went back inside to retrieve Max and pay the bill, and yes, I had them charge me for the collar I took. Max was a piece of cake to get in his crate, and I was glad, because I didn't have any fight left in me. Back at the farm, both Max and Molly jumped right out of their crates and high-tailed it into their kennel to get a drink and settle down for a rest (after sniffing each other's rears). I headed on home to take a shower and try to get out all the doggie hair slivers that got embedded in my clothes and skin from Molly's coarse coat during our struggle. Then I had to call Zane to relate to him the day's events and make him feel guilty for not getting off work early to help me. Let's just say he owes me big time. Luci's vet appointment is the day after tomorrow, but that will be nothing compared to today. I will never again be dumb enough to take Molly to the vet by myself, and my husband will never again be dumb enough to ask me to. Lesson learned, end of story. I hope you all got a good laugh out of my ordeal, though I will probably need a few days (or weeks) before I can laugh with you. Hopefully by then I will have succeeded in removing the rest of those dang hair slivers.
These are pics of Luci. She's cute, isn't she! I'll have to take pics of Max and Molly and post them later, so you can put visuals with my story.
