Under the Big Top

Took Miles and Owen to the vet today (cue circus music) for vaccination against kennel cough. They’re being boarded this weekend when Gabe, Rachel and Dex come to visit. Trying to avoid injury and anarchy during their stay.

Taking my dogs anywhere is an exercise in logistics, Buddhism, and a strong, strong sense of humor. Be ready to wrestle at any moment. Especially The Coonhound (aka-Owen, Yo-Yo, Coony, The Tough Guy). That dog will hunt.

Load dogs into back of our station wagon. We have one of those dog gates for your car. God bless the person who invented that little number. I can actually drive the car! Downside though, harder to discipline barking dogs.

Get them to the vet’s parking lot. Unload. Here is the part about logistics. Two against one. I can control Miles (aka-The Shiz, The Shiznits, Yoshi, Milosh, Sweet Pants, Shez-wan, Rico, Ricky Retardo) with a menacing, “My-yals”, but The Coonhound is an entirely different story. Prepare to grapple. I open the hatch and The Coonhound makes his first attempt at escape. I knuckle him down enough to get the leash over his head and collared. Tether him to car hitch. Take out Miles and leash him too without knocking myself over as The Coonhound wraps me up with his leash. Untangle The Coonhound. At this point Miles figures out he’s at the vet and makes an attempt to load himself back into the car. Our sheltie isn’t obese. Just a little on the heavy side. Still not much of a jumper. He makes a go at it and only get half way up, he scraps a little bit, and falls backwards. I hear him say, “Uff.” Oh, the humility.

Pack ’em in. Praise dogs all the way into vet’s office. Pretend we’re having the best outing ever! Such good boys! Look at the pretty ladies! We’re here for a visit! Yeah! Woof! Oh, the humanity.

Make some Far Side jokes with the technician who obviously doesn’t read the The Far Side. She’s still a great person because she pretends to be interested in my babbling. Like I tell everyone. I don’t get out much.

Miles takes the first shot. He’s a trooper. The kennel cough “shot” doesn’t involve a needle. It’s just a syringe of vaccine that is shot up the nose. That would seriously suck. Give me the needle. The Coonhound isn’t having it. Technician asks if we should muzzle him. I try to look thoughtful about it (imagining tech’s hand hanging out of The Coonhounds maw) but my mind was made up a long time ago. I suppose we should, just in case. The Coonhound pees all over but takes the load up his nose better than Miles. But then again, he was muzzled.

Pay up and ship out. Pretend we had a great time and make small chat with the pretty ladies. Get the hell out of there before my dogs cause serious trouble. No stink bombs, just a little pee until we hit the parking lot where Miles lays a duke right there. No baggies. Hell, I’m sure this happens all the time to them. Make an escape. Return home in oddly quiet car.

Fade out circus music.

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