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!