Its hard out here for a pimp. Especially when your name is Mack Truck.
Mack’s a cool rider most days, but even Trucks have a limit. Mack laid the smack down on Saturday.
This story will be laid out differently than my others, with the italics being Mack-speak. Caution: Mack has a potty mouth worse than I do. That and he’s a little sexist at times……
The stack of reminder postcards from our vet was starting to topple, so The Husband and I gave in over the long holiday weekend and decided it’s finally time to bring The Fat Guy in to see the “White Coats” for his annual check up. Mack was up for a car ride. (OPEN THE GODDAMMED DOOR TO THE TRUCK! And fetch my leash, woman! No, not the new one. That old red one that stinks real good. Yeahhhh……)
We absolutely love our vet clinic to the point that we are willing to drive 30 minutes away down perpetually-gridlocked I-94 when there is a vet clinic, literally, within walking distance from our house. (Fuck walking.)
The doctors and staff there know both of our dogs by name when we call and are a pleasure to do business with. They’re not at all pushy about vaccinations. I’ve been to some vet clinics that act like they’ll call the ASPCA on you if you don’t get your dog/cat’s distemper vaccine. When I was broke and in my twenties, I had a vet tech look at me with such disgust when I declined my cat’s distemper shot (after paying for the rabies shot and a pack of Frontline) I never went back. I understand vet clinics are businesses but that type of behavior, bullying people into buying things they don’t feel comfortable with, is just in bad form. You’re getting off the subject, Treat Lady.
Anyways, going to the vet is a real treat for Mack. Mmm Hmm.
I’ve never seen a dog so happy and relaxed about a place that has consistently stabbed him with needles for the last 12 years. He’s got his own routine he runs through each time we visit:
-Sniffs around outside (gotta check my pee-mail), takes a leak, maybe a dump (which I will bag up and hand to the receptionist with a smile, “Here’s that stool sample! She’s a honey of a turd!”), then walks through the door and intimidates a smaller and already panicked dog (Do you have a hoo-hoo or a hee-haw? Let me inspect your junk, DO NOT RESIST!). He walks up to the reception desk and wags his nub at the delightful, hitch-pitched female voice that greets him. (Hello nice lady. Look in awe at me) He then impresses the staff by doing his best perky little trot over to the scale, walks onto it without force or assistance and plops a sit for the tech to get his weight. (I get a treat now) Granted, this is only a performance of which Mack knows the end result is one of those mediciney-looking dog treats. (What, are you new here? Give me my damn treat!!) Those things look like they have to be the most tasteless things in the world, but you know Mack. (GIVE ME MY FUCKING TREAT!!!) He gulps treats down before he has a chance to taste them. (NOM. GULP. FART. More please!) And then continues to try to work over the girls for more. (Don’t get stingy on a bully now)
The scale groans with the weight of the giant bulldog that has foisted himself onto the contraption…..just kidding. “He’s 76 lbs! Down from 87 last year! That’s a lot of weight to lose in a year”, the vet tech said. Mack was too busy inhaling another pill treat to care about his accomplishment. (*Burp*)
This time, Mack was due for his Bordetella vaccine and Distemper. He also had a skin tag on this back that was now big enough to open up and bleed at times. It was about the size of…well….a really big booger. (I like boogers) The kind you stick under your desk at work. (I’d totally eat those) That’s all I can compare it to. It was odd shaped.
The doctor came and gave Mack his usual look over. The doctor said he was in great shape (damn straight) and at the perfect weight even! We told the doctor about his skin tag and she said that would be no problem to remove. She left the room to get the anesthetic and his shots. (Say whut?!?!)
During that time, Mack farted once or twice in unusual anxiety. (Uh oh) Hubs and I slowly moved our shirt collars over our noses in synchrony. He started to pace around the exam room, knocking over the chairs and checking and rechecking the interior of the garage can. (Anything good in there? Damn. Better check again.) He looked up at the glass jar of treats on the counter (…what I would give….), and repeated the routine a few times more. Mack, was getting nervous. (THEY’RE SENDING ME TO THE GLUE FACTORY!!! I JUST KNOW IT!!!)
The doctor came in and Hubs hoisted nervous Chubs onto the table. (I CAN DO IT MYSELF, DICK!!!) The doctor gave him a shot to numb the area around the skin tag. She gave it a few seconds and proceeded to give him distemper shot. Mack jerked back in pain a little bit but I was there ready with a pill treat to make it all go away. (Oh, pill treats. You make it all worth while)
Then came the bordetella shot. (Whut?!?) This shot is sprayed through the nose. (WHUT?!?!?) The doctor approached Mack, and Mack held up his paw and pushed the doctor away! (ENOUGH’S ENOUGH!). The doctor tried again and received another paw to the chest. (DON’T MAKE ME TELL YOU THREE TIMES!) The doctor tried again and then, he bit the air by her hand (Back OFF, B!). Mackie had had enough of this woman’s voodoo. Another bite (DOESN”T ANYONE SEE WHAT SHE IS TRYING TO DO???) and Husband had to use every muscle in his body to clamp his mouth shut and weight him down, getting a small dose of the vaccine in his face in the process. (Mmmfppfpf!)
That wasn’t even the end of it. They still had to remove the skin tag. We attached the leash to Mack’s collar and the doctor opened the door to get Mack into the back room. Mack threw his ass down went dead weight on her (No!!!!!!! The Glue Factory!!!!!), but the Doctor, knowing Mack’s weakness, removes a pill treat from the jar and used it to lure Mack into the back room (ROBOT VOICE: Ok. Doctor. I.WILL.GO.WITH.YOU)
The door shut and we heard the electric razor fire up, to shave the area. Husband and I, trying to be quiet for Mack’s sake, could barely contain our laughter, “He’s going to be SO PISSED!!”. Mack returned a short while later with 2 metal stitches and a scowl. (Fuckers) which then evaporated once we gave him another treat. (I love you again, now) .
All in all, Mack did have a pretty rough morning at the vet, but he and the doctor made up before he left and Mackie got to unwind in the back of the SUV (I need a beer) and was back to being his normal level of pissed off by afternoon.
Side Note: Our vet is a wonderful and patient lady who has kept both of our guys healthy for years. I hope to God she doesn’t read this.