Dayzeeee!
Take a memo. Do not under any circumstances bring your young and impressionable daughter with you when you drop off the family dog for surgery at the vet's. One crying baby is enough.
Daisy, our beloved beagle, was shaking uncontrollably by the time we got in the car (she somehow knows when we are heading toward Doctor Doom). Sweetpea kept looking over at the trembling ball of fur up on hind legs next to her with annoyance because she didn't have a clue what was going on. "Dayzee!" she said, over and over. "Dit down!" Daisy would have none of it. She wanted one last look at the trees and the lovely blue sky and the flowers passing by before everything went black. Well that's the way you'd imagine it to be in her head the way she drooped her ears and gazed at me pleadingly for mercy. Truth is I can't actually look at her during these visits to the vet (usually routine) because it's too wrenching. And for those of you who think I'm a cold-hearted cousin of a warthog, stroking her gently and crooning reassurances only seems to make matters worse so I just let her be.
I guess I wasn't thinking because I should have dropped Daisy off without Sweetpea as an audience. Firstly she didn't particularly like the vet's - lots of doggies and kitty-cats that she wasn't allowed to touch ("Buster doesn't like kids"......"Kitty has mange and a snaggle-tooth infection so stay back, please.") and was no happier to be stuck on my lap than Daisy was cowering under the chair shaking so badly I thought she was going to have a heart attack. Bored to distraction, Sweetpea squirmed and whined until the vet came out from the back for Daisy...... and then all hell broke loose.
Daisy, seeing her end coming near, promptly peed all over the floor and the vet-tech (poor guy) had to pick her sopping little furry body up and slip-slide into the back where both Sweetpea and I could hear a lot of barking and scraping going on. Daisy let out a little yelp and then the door swung shut. At this moment Sweetpea suddenly realized that her beloved doggie had just been kidnapped by a strange man in a blue coat and started screaming at the top of her lungs....Dayzeee! Dayzeee! She turned to me with wild despair, her screams turning to sobbbing whimpers. I tried to reassure her, feeling like a total heel.
"Sweetie, Daisy is spending some time with friends and then she'll be coming home," I said soothingly. Sweetpea wheeled her head around and looked at me like I was crazy. "No, really, she's fine.." I went on, trying to ignore the little voice in my head shouting "Liar!!." We quickly left in a puddle of guilt and despair, so fast I forgot to leave her dog food, because she was staying for a couple of days afterward in the boarding kennel so we could go to Legoland for Sweetpea's birthday. I felt like the world's worst parent, to dog and child both.
Once in the car she continued to moan sadly. "Dayzee. Dayzee..." It came in little hiccups. Sometimes she would gaze out the window and call out her name, "Dayzeeeee, Dayzeeee," to which I would croon over and over the same lies, now getting more and more embellished. "Daisy is with her friends, honey." "Daisy is running and jumping in the hills with lots of other doggies and is having the time of her life. She's in sleep-away camp, swimming in a magical pond and eating lots of biscuits!" I felt so awful I almost went back in to retrieve the little hound. But I knew Daisy needed the surgery to fix an ingrown dew claw that constantly pricked her paw. What was done was done.
The moaning went on for some time, even after we got out of the car and I tried to distract her with a trip to the park, a ride on a pony, an ice-cream cone and seven clowns-a-dancing. She would lapse into silence for a while, and just as I thought she might have forgotten she would look over at me and quietly say her name....."Dayzee", then look away, lost in her sadness.
In the end I'm not sure who was more distraught over the whole thing, but finally the trip to Legoland managed to overcome the funk. For eight hours our family wheeled about in a theme park filled with about as many kiddie-distractions as are humanly possible and our Sweetpea did finally have a good time.
When we got home the next day I knew that I had to subject Sweetpea one more time to the vet experience. She had to complete the cycle, be part of the coming home of Daisy. We sat in the waiting room, once again squirming with impatience, and then the moment came, the door opened and out came our little beagle, looking no worse for the wear except a neat white bandage on her back leg.
Sweetpea flew off my lap and ran over to Daisy, who was understandably overjoyed and promptly tried to bowl her over with front paws and licking tongue. "Ow! Bag dawg!!!" Sweetpea shouted then promptly deserted her long-lost companion for a sucker offered by the staff.
As far as I know she didn't even give the recovering patient a sideways glance once we got home. All's well that ends well.
Daisy, our beloved beagle, was shaking uncontrollably by the time we got in the car (she somehow knows when we are heading toward Doctor Doom). Sweetpea kept looking over at the trembling ball of fur up on hind legs next to her with annoyance because she didn't have a clue what was going on. "Dayzee!" she said, over and over. "Dit down!" Daisy would have none of it. She wanted one last look at the trees and the lovely blue sky and the flowers passing by before everything went black. Well that's the way you'd imagine it to be in her head the way she drooped her ears and gazed at me pleadingly for mercy. Truth is I can't actually look at her during these visits to the vet (usually routine) because it's too wrenching. And for those of you who think I'm a cold-hearted cousin of a warthog, stroking her gently and crooning reassurances only seems to make matters worse so I just let her be.
I guess I wasn't thinking because I should have dropped Daisy off without Sweetpea as an audience. Firstly she didn't particularly like the vet's - lots of doggies and kitty-cats that she wasn't allowed to touch ("Buster doesn't like kids"......"Kitty has mange and a snaggle-tooth infection so stay back, please.") and was no happier to be stuck on my lap than Daisy was cowering under the chair shaking so badly I thought she was going to have a heart attack. Bored to distraction, Sweetpea squirmed and whined until the vet came out from the back for Daisy...... and then all hell broke loose.
Daisy, seeing her end coming near, promptly peed all over the floor and the vet-tech (poor guy) had to pick her sopping little furry body up and slip-slide into the back where both Sweetpea and I could hear a lot of barking and scraping going on. Daisy let out a little yelp and then the door swung shut. At this moment Sweetpea suddenly realized that her beloved doggie had just been kidnapped by a strange man in a blue coat and started screaming at the top of her lungs....Dayzeee! Dayzeee! She turned to me with wild despair, her screams turning to sobbbing whimpers. I tried to reassure her, feeling like a total heel.
"Sweetie, Daisy is spending some time with friends and then she'll be coming home," I said soothingly. Sweetpea wheeled her head around and looked at me like I was crazy. "No, really, she's fine.." I went on, trying to ignore the little voice in my head shouting "Liar!!." We quickly left in a puddle of guilt and despair, so fast I forgot to leave her dog food, because she was staying for a couple of days afterward in the boarding kennel so we could go to Legoland for Sweetpea's birthday. I felt like the world's worst parent, to dog and child both.
Once in the car she continued to moan sadly. "Dayzee. Dayzee..." It came in little hiccups. Sometimes she would gaze out the window and call out her name, "Dayzeeeee, Dayzeeee," to which I would croon over and over the same lies, now getting more and more embellished. "Daisy is with her friends, honey." "Daisy is running and jumping in the hills with lots of other doggies and is having the time of her life. She's in sleep-away camp, swimming in a magical pond and eating lots of biscuits!" I felt so awful I almost went back in to retrieve the little hound. But I knew Daisy needed the surgery to fix an ingrown dew claw that constantly pricked her paw. What was done was done.
The moaning went on for some time, even after we got out of the car and I tried to distract her with a trip to the park, a ride on a pony, an ice-cream cone and seven clowns-a-dancing. She would lapse into silence for a while, and just as I thought she might have forgotten she would look over at me and quietly say her name....."Dayzee", then look away, lost in her sadness.
In the end I'm not sure who was more distraught over the whole thing, but finally the trip to Legoland managed to overcome the funk. For eight hours our family wheeled about in a theme park filled with about as many kiddie-distractions as are humanly possible and our Sweetpea did finally have a good time.
When we got home the next day I knew that I had to subject Sweetpea one more time to the vet experience. She had to complete the cycle, be part of the coming home of Daisy. We sat in the waiting room, once again squirming with impatience, and then the moment came, the door opened and out came our little beagle, looking no worse for the wear except a neat white bandage on her back leg.
Sweetpea flew off my lap and ran over to Daisy, who was understandably overjoyed and promptly tried to bowl her over with front paws and licking tongue. "Ow! Bag dawg!!!" Sweetpea shouted then promptly deserted her long-lost companion for a sucker offered by the staff.
As far as I know she didn't even give the recovering patient a sideways glance once we got home. All's well that ends well.
posted by vallie at 11:06 AM
<< Home