We were up at ‘the butt crack of dawn’ as my friend Clint would say… a sleepy drive to the clinic with Jingle… he normally doesn’t like cars so I was surprised he jumped right in the van… maybe a little warmer?  I’m not sure – but there was no fighting him for the ride.

Within 10 minutes or so he was in my lap and I couldn’t get him off – just laying there… he was scared, I could tell.

At the clinic he was quite excited… so many new sounds and smells.  So much to do… but he couldn’t get off that leash.  We just stood in a line of other sleepy owners and fidgety pets.

It’s our turn…

Jingle weighs 45 pounds – sweet!  The operation will be less than expected – there is a price increase at 50 pounds.  It’s time…

We take him to ‘the back’ – all the other animals… a cacophony of noise – cats and dogs of all sizes in cages… sounds of excitement, fear, curiosity, warning, a deafening symphony.

Jingle doesn’t want to go in the cage.

I give him a little nudge and a command.


A little firmer.

The attended gasps.  “He just peed on your leg.”

A defiant gesture?  I could tell before she even noticed.

Nice Jingle.  Real nice.

He goes in the cage just fine after that.  Man he’s gonna get it.

I clean up and start filling out the paper work.

Dog’s name… Jingle.  Weight… 45 pounds… rabies shot, check… name, address, ok… pain medicine?… ah… justice is served!