Mom took me to the vet this morning at O-Dark-Thirty. I've learned that O-Dark-Thirty is really early. It comes any time before Mom's second cup of coffee.
When Mom opened the door of my truck and said "stay," I thought she was joking at first. Turns out she wanted to get my attention so I didn't jump in before she had the door all the way open. I've done that a few times, being excited to go for a ride and all that, and it never works out well for me. Mom was right. I need to be patient and wait for her or Dad to say it's okay to jump.
It seems that sticking my head underwater when I play in the creek is not a smart thing to do. I dived in so deep last weekend that my ear got infected. That's why Mom hauled my black arse to the vet.
I didn't like it much, either.
Mom couldn't go in with me and I really DID NOT LIKE THAT!!!! Then those girls picked me up and dropped me on the scales! Mom watched them through the glass door and she was not happy. They didn't even give me a chance to get myself centered and then step on the scales.
AND THEN they said I'm fat!!! They said I need to lose two pounds!
I don't think so. I walk every day and most days a couple of times a day. Dad takes me out every few hours and we go to the end of the lane and we play ball. Mom takes me on long walks all the time and while Mom might walk a mile and a half, or even two miles, I'm running ahead or into the woods and covering a lot more ground than her.
My dog food says I can have up to 4.5 cups of chow a day and I don't get that much. Mom puts three cups in my bowl and I'm a good dog. I only eat when I'm hungry which means some days I don't eat much at all. Some days I don't eat any dog food. There is always food in the bowl for me when I want it (except right after I've chowed down, of course). I just know I should only eat when I'm hungry.
I am not fat. I have MUSCLES. I'm not some pampered city dog. I run all the time. I think Dad should take those silly girls for a walk and see if they can keep up with his chair. I bet they can't, but I can.
Mom took my picture when we got home and I'm still svelte! Okay, so it's not a great photo but look at those long legs! Look at that nipped waist! I'm simply taller and larger than the Lab breed standards, and therefore a tad heavier than the standards allow. It's not a bad thing I grew up to be a big, strong fellow.
I'm Deuce and they insulted me.
And to pile on another insult, Mom has to squirt smelly ointment into my ears for the next seven days.
The moral to this story is, I'm never getting out of bed at O-Dark-Thirty on a Saturday morning again! Bad things happen if Mom doesn't get a second cup of coffee on Saturday morning.