Here’s the thing, dear reader, a trip to the vet shouldn’t be the highlight of a pug’s day and yet surprisingly for me it is. After all that I’ve suffered at the Cape Cod Animal Hospital, you would think that is the last place I’d ever want to revisit, and yet I love going. First of all, I get respect, love, and lots of attention from the staff and doctors, as well as extraordinary treats. There are containers of freeze dried liver bites in each of the examining rooms, and I swear to you that I could endure any form of canine torture any tech or doctor could inflict just to consume one of these sublime nuggets. They are as close to receiving holy communion wafers as a pug can get.
I love walking in the front door and hearing, “Hey Mason, how’s it going buddy?” I love trotting over to the other patients and greeting them as if I were welcoming them into my drawing room. I like to think of myself as the gracious host at a social gathering of eclectic friends when I’m in the waiting room.
My excitement builds as I am ushered into one of the examining rooms. Knowing that I will be the focus of all attention for the next five to fifteen minutes is heady stuff. I become hyper-alert, pose as a show pug with my tail twitching bewitchingly, and lock eyes onto my target. Today was a simple blood draw to check my T-4 level. The tech is an old fan of mine from last summer…the only male tech in the hospital. He and I bonded and shared our maleness during “the bad time,” and we always reconnect in a very masculine way whenever I come in. In order for the rest of this exposition to have meaning, I must refer you back to my entry of Dec. 27th, “All I’m Asking For Is A Little Respect,” so that you understand to what he refers when he asks Grandma how I’m doing. When she honestly answers that I am fine, he then says, sotto voce, “I mean, you know, about the other business of last summer…I felt so bad for the little fellow. Does he, ummmm, seem, ummm, okay with it, you know…I mean it’s gotta be kinda uncomfortable for him, you know?” He clearly felt I would be horribly embarrassed by his reference to the unpleasantness of last summer, hence the whispered conversation. I, however, was nearly beside myself, waiting for him to take the blood so I could get my d— liver treat.
The blood was drawn smoothly and painlessly and I hit the floor poised and primed for my reward. I think in remembering last summer’s surgery, the tech felt such empathy for me that he started just throwing the treats at me. I didn’t even have to pose or beg because he was so moved by my courage and spirit. Little did he know that there are no limits to what I will suffer for a little treat.
Ah, another successful foray into the world of animal medicine for a clever pug!