In My Own Voice #34: You Never Know What Lies on the Other Side of a Door

When you get in a car, it’s a tricky thing. There is, of course, the pleasure of watching the world go by while you remain snug and warm and without any exertion. But when that door opens, well, you just don’t know where you’ll be when you step outside.

Sometimes you are about to embark on a wonderful hike in the woods.

Sometimes you visit your grandparents.

But, unfortunately, sometimes you’re at the vet’s.

This latter destination has been happening with alarming frequency. The first time it was unpleasant, but manageable. I was led away to that building with the smell of fear thick on the air and the yelps from unseen dogs. A jab in my leg while they squeezed some of the life blood from my body and then I was on my way back outside.

Reunited with my person, we went for a long walk through the neighborhood and, for the car ride home, snacked on my favorite biscuits. 

The next time my paws hit the pavement in that infamous lot, I had no idea what was in store for me. As the tech led me away, she commented on a what a perfect gentleman I am. But I ask, did she really think I was going to make a scene? In a parking lot? I wouldn’t demean myself that way. Plus, I figured I would be out in a jiffy.

Instead, I found myself unceremoniously caged (Me!) in a room full of the hoi polloi. There I positively languished. No refreshments, and the din! Whenever I’ve visited before, at least I was offered treats. Sometimes undesirable treats, but they tried.

When they finally let me out, they took me to a room where they shaved my foreleg! Why, I ask you? I almost don’t want to be seen in public until my fur grows back.

And that’s all I remember until I woke up with goopy eyes, a headache, and a sore neck. 

Back with my person I expected that she, at least, would take me on a walk and offer some treats. 

Nope. No walk. No treats. Just back in the car.

It got worse.

I wasn’t allowed to explore My Own Back Yard. She always unclicks the leash when we’re in our own yard. 

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I stood close to her, to kind of hint at what she should be doing. Nothing.

To make it super easy to reach the fastening I sat. Still nothing.

I even led her to my favorite tree. She seemed willfully obtuse in her refusal to afford me some private time.

No rolling in the dirt. No rubbing against a tree. Nada. I was marched from the car into the house. She muttered something about protecting my surgical wound. Whatever.

At least eventually she relented and gave me something to eat and drink. 

Plus, I now have this soft scarf. 

But, when I reach up a paw to scratch, she spears me with a death stare and says “No” in a tone of voice that suggests I’ve just done something truly reprehensible, like snitching a steak off the counter. Not, you understand, that I would ever do something like that.

Since when is it a crime to scratch my ear!

You can bet I won’t be as compliant the next time she asks me to get into, or out of, our car!