Being a vet’s dog is a mixed blessing. Your medical needs will be both immediately recognized and immediately ignored. You don’t have to go to the office to get treated but that means that you end up getting shots in the kitchen when you least expect it.
Yesterday we had a lunch at work with a rep from a supplement company. That meant free samples. They were divvied up according to what pets had what problems. Freckles scored the skin treats and the teeth treats. The skin treats smell of rancid cow poo. I make her eat it outside since they stink so bad. Of course she thinks they are the best things EVER. I made her a song to celebrate them. Sing this deliberately off key, loud, and with the enthusiasm generally reserved for German beer halls.
“Freckles has a poopy treat
Oh, it is so good to eat!
Freckles has a poopy treat
Oh, it is so very neat
Because now it’s SMELLY
Inside her BELLY
Freckles has a poopy TREEEEEEEA-T
Oh, the taste just can’t be beat!”
You know if you sung it correctly if the dog and man are acting like martyrs and the cats have run for cover.
Freckles hasn’t been around for the aftermath of a vet convention yet. I have to take large suitcases to have space for all the free stuff. She’ll be so excited.