The Vet

Where are you taking me, Brad?

The park? No, I don't think so because we live across the street from it.

Damn, it's the vet, isn't it?



I had to go get a rabies shot. The scale of shame said I gained 2 pounds. The last time I weighed 82 lbs. and this time I weighed 84 lbs. "Water weight." Heh heh. The vet said that on a scale of 1 being extremely underweight, and 10 being extremely overweight, I was a 6 or 7. I'll take that, and a snack too!

In fact they gave me snacks while I was there. "Here fat boy, have a snack!" I waddled right over and gobbled 'em down too. There is NO shame in my game.

I was good boy. I liked the doctor A LOT. I don't know what it was about the guy, but he was okay in my book, and I am one judgmental dog as you may have figured out by now. Either I like a person, or I do not, and I pretty much know that after the first meeting.

The staff there kept calling me Houdini. Uhh??? I couldn't help but look at Brad with desperation in my eyes hoping that the staff realized that I am Howard, and not Houdini, before they made a mistake and amputated my tail or leg or some horrible operation. I did NOT want to come out of that place with another damn cone on my head. Can you blame me?

Brad reassured me it was because I kept slipping out of my collar, not mistaken identity, and that I was only there for a shot (as if that is not bad enough).

In my recent experiences, if shot = no cone, I can live with that.