She's a she...

You ever get the feeling something is a little...off? 

A little weird?

What do you do with that information?  The feeling?

If you're like me, you try to ignore it...

Molly's first vet gave me just such a feeling.  I think theirs was the biggest ad in the phone book, and it was close.  It was convenient, a little too convenient.  First, they get me in right away.  Like, I call at 5 and I'm in at 5:45...convenient, right?  We get there and it's completely empty so we get in right away.  First little inkling something was off..."How old is he?"

At first, I thought it was just a slip of the tongue.  I mean, while Molly does have a pink leash, a pink collar, and her name is MOLLY, I guess it could be a little confusing.  Maybe her mind was on something else and wasn't really paying attention.  How many of us can say we're totally focused on work at work??  Besides me, of course (Pssss...boss reads blog...)...

"SHE is 4 months old,"  I reply.

"4 months....and what kind of dog is he?"

Seriously?

"She's a terrier.  A Cairn terrier."

"A Karen terrier?  K-A-R-E-N??"

"No, Cairn.  C-A-I-R-N...."  I say, looking to the door.

"Wait...you're spelling it too fast.  C-A..."

Uh....what kind of vet doesn't know one type of dog from another?  One sex from the other?  I was starting to worry.  But, I rationalized...she's just the secretary.  Maybe she's new to the profession.  The vet will know.

The receptionist takes Molly to the scale, and says "Oh, he's 10lbs.  Good weight for him."

Hello?  He is wearing PINK.  Get it right, woman.  I'm about to correct her yet again, when she doubles over in pain.  "Oh.  I'm sorry I'm not myself today.  I have a tube baby I'm trying to pass."  Uhhh...a what?  Trying to what?  I didn't think you 'passed' tube babies.  I thought they were like...uh, life threatening.  But she says she's been to the hospital.  "I was in so much pain earlier today.  I collapsed and my husband came to help me and I spoke ill to him.  Can you believe it?  I said, 'Don't touch me.' Oh dear."  Oh dear is right.  I'm sure she's the first wife ever to tell her husband not to touch her.

We're shown into the exam room and in walks the Vet....a.k.a:  Receptionist's Husband.  I already know too much about him.  But I wonder, did he fail med school?  Are his certificates fake?  He smiles and says, "So, your puppy.  He needs his second shots today?"  OH COME ON....seriously?  You're the vet.  I realize the pink isn't the dead give away I thought it would be, but really?  She has a vagina.  Girls have vagina's....Molly is a girl with a vagina.  "Yes, she needs her second shots,"  I smile thru clenched teeth...

The rest of the visit was a whole bunch of he's and his's.  The vet looked like he was making things up as he went along...."First of all, we're going to ah...well, we're going to get the shot.  Yes, yes we are.  I need you to hold him tight, like this.  Don't let him move at all."  I'm not the vet.  You hold her, I felt like saying...

When we were paying (another production as they whispered to each other in another language...I heard a couple firm 'no's from her though...) they said, "You will have to book for the spaying."  Are you out of your fricken mind?  There is no way you're coming anywhere near my poor little puppy's uterus. 

My new vet is fabulous.  She is the sister of a colleague.  When we first walked in, the receptionist says, "Oh, she's a Cairn terrier!  I love cairn terriers."  My heart skips a beat.  I look to the left, there's an eye chart for dogs....Cats in different sizes.  Love it.  They know her gender, breed and they have a sense of humour.  Fabulous.  When she got her shots, they gave her a smorgasbord of doggie treats, cheese and dehydrated chicken...to distract her, so I don't have to hold her down. 

These guys, I trust with my Molly's uterus.  Yesterday we took her in for the big event.  We have our fingers crossed that it will calm her down some.   Good news, she came thru surgery like a trooper.  She's resting comfortably by my feet.  She a bit of a bad ass now too, sporting a tatt in her left ear...ah, she's ours for life.  Or at least they'll know where she belongs next time if she runs away....