Okay, so here is a scheduled post to give y’all a little chuckle at my expense. Just in case you miss me.
Friday, before we left, I had a bunch of that last minute run around crap, that a Pro-crastinator does. One of them being the annual veterinarian visit for the dog. (I told you I should live in the parking lot)
Boogie, is a huge baby. I can only lift parts of her body, because she becomes dead weight while trying to move her when she isn’t having any of it.
So….I get her into the car fairly easy, but I have to listen to her noisy panting, so I jacked up the air conditioning and the radio. All is well, again…until we reach the parking lot of the veterinarian.
She wouldn’t get out of the car. I tried pulling on her, using my big tough Alpha voice, I tried lifting her front end, I tried moving to the other side of the car. I tried pushing on her butt.
I finally had to do some jumping up and down, and a ceremonial-type dog dance in the parking lot, to coax her out of that car. The dance didn’t work at first, but eventually, she put her front feet on the ground, and I lifted her butt out. It took almost 10 minutes to haul her hind quarters from the backseat of my car.
All this, for the entertainment of the office gals waiting to see how I was going to get her out of the car. You see, my husband usually takes her due to this difficulty. He doesn’t have the same experience with Boogie. No, that behavior is reserved for me.
She weighed in at 110 pounds, which is where she should be. Then I maneuver her to the farthest edge of the waiting room, in order to avoid scaring any little dogs, or be challenged by another big dog.
We are finally shown to the exam room, where someone came to take her for her annual blood draw.
I sat down and waited.
I sighed and put my head down, as this was the last, last-minute thing on my agenda besides packing.
My pants were unzipped.
Perfect ceremonial dog dancing attire.