The chicks won't see my scar

Last Thursday was a big day. I had to go back to the vet to get my staples removed. Let me back up and say I was not pleased.

Mom tricked me again. She asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. Of course, I did! I love, love, love to go for rides. We even went through some road work and I got to bark at the flagman! How cool was that? But then Mom pulled into the vet's parking lot. Not cool at all!

The last time I was at the vet, Mom abandoned me. She handed my leash to a stranger and walked away from me. Yeah, okay, she cried when she did it so I know she felt bad, but she did it. I was really scared she would do it again even though she promised she wouldn't unless there was no other choice. 

But Mom didn't seem upset at all. We took a seat in the waiting room and I eased back between Mom's knees to keep her safe. It made me feel better, too. And Mom bent over and wrapped her arms around me. I appreciated that. 

Then the vet tech called us to go into this little room and she got on the floor beside me. She had a pair of nippers and she took out the surgery staples. I barely felt a thing! Then Mom said, "C'mon. Let's go," and I fairly dragged her to the car. I was ready to go, let me tell you! 

We got home and Mom gave me an entire Pup Peroni stick so I know I was a good dog the whole time! 

After a while, I took a look at my scar and it's impressive! If I had a girlfriend, I'd show it off, but I don't have a girlfriend. I guess it'll be mine and Mom's secret, and that's okay. 

Deuce's Day, Greenbrier Smokey Deuce, black Labrador Retriever, dog surgery, dog scars, car rides, vet visits, country lifestyle, rural living, flagmen, work zones

I impressed my vet!

Mom and I have had a time of it this past month. Dad was in the hospital and poor little Deucie had to spend some time alone. I did not like this. Now Dad is in for some needed rehab and I'm still being left alone! But Mom has a plan!

Mom tries to make it up to me every evening. I get treats. I get brushed. Mom feels guilty she has to leave me alone but I know she has to keep watch over Dad to make sure he's getting what he needs. 

As luck would have it, my annual checkup was this morning. I was born in January, so my checkups happen in March. I have a new vet and I think I like her. She scratched my belly so maybe I'm in love! 

I checked out A-Okay! Ears, eyes, teeth = all good. She used a flea comb on me and didn't find a single "hitchhiker." That's because I do not have fleas. If I had fleas I couldn't sleep on the bed with Mom, so I do not have fleas! 

The vet said I weighed ninety-three pounds and then she felt my sides and was impressed by my muscles. She should be. I'm an athlete! Just ask the local deer have fast I can run. Mom told her that walking season is here so those extra three pounds will go away, but the vet said not to worry. I'm a tall country boy with lots of muscles so it's okay if I'm a bit over the breed standard weight. My vet has some common sense! She knows it's almost walking season and I'll lose those pesky winter pounds.

My new vet also signed a paper to certify I've had all my shots and I'm healthy. That piece of paper will get me in to see Dad and that's a good thing! I miss Dad and Mom says he misses me, too. So Mom will take me to see him and he'll be home before we know it. I can't wait! 

After all, Dad spoils me with more biscuits than Mom does. 

Deuce's Day, black Labrador Retriever, Lab dogs, country dogs, vet visits, rural living, good dogs, dog biscuits, breed standards, hospitals, rehabs

A trip to the vet and I think I'm insulted

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. 

Anyway....

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. 

I had a rough night after a vet visit

I had to go to the vet yesterday evening, and I didn't like it much. Neither did Mom and Dad, but they felt they had to take me. My leg has really been hurting, and Mom said it was time for better pain relief than baby aspirin. 

I like riding in Mom's car. It's smoooth. I thought we were going to Sonic for dinner, but noooo. Next time I'll pay closer attention. Getting into the car was no fun at all because Mom had to help me get into the back seat. It was embarrassing. 

Once we got to the vet's office, about 5:15 PM, we were right away whisked into a little room. A girl came in and asked a bunch of questions. Half an hour later the vet came in and asked questions. He said I was going to get a shot of something called Dilaudid and right then and there Mom should have said NO. 

So half an hour after the doc said the shot was coming, about 6:30 PM, I got it. Half an hour after that, all I could do was pant. Then it really got bad. They took me to a different room for the vet to "examine" me. Mom was not pleased they separated us. I bet Dad had to hold her back. Anyway, the vet checked my spine, hips, and legs, and told Mom and Dad what they already knew - I have a torn cruciate. 

I don't know what, exactly, the vet told Mom and Dad because they made me stay in a different room. I know I didn't like it. I didn't feel good and I needed MOM. Instead, they HELD ME HOSTAGE UNTIL MOM PAID. I'm only a dog but I know that wasn't them taking good care of me. I should have been returned to Mom and Dad right away. Dad would have looked after me while Mom paid. It was 8:00 PM and dark before we left. We were there three hours! 

Mom had to help me into the car again. On the ride home is when I learned I have two medicines to take and I'm not supposed to jump on and off any furniture. Say what?? No napping on the couch? Okay, I can deal with that, but I sleep with Mom. It's what I do, so that's a non-negotiable fact. Lucky for me Mom agrees. She helped me onto the bed last night. 

I was so sick. My stomach gurgled and roiled and hurt but I never threw up. Mom lay down with me and cuddled me because all I could do was whimper and shake. Mom kept rubbing my back and telling me how good I was and finally I went to sleep for a while, but not long enough. 

I had to pee but I couldn't remember how. Mom took me back outside and all I could do was stand there and sway. I tried to go into the woods and now that I think about it, it was dark! I don't go into the woods in the dark now that I'm all mature and everything. 

After a while, Mom and Dad put me back in bed, and they made sure I could sleep between them. That was okay. I liked that. I felt safe with both of them with me and I finally went to sleep for real. When Mom's alarm went off at 6:00 AM, I woke up and felt much better. I peed and peed and peed when we went outside! Then Mom gave me two pills wrapped up in a cheese slice. I love cheese! 

But now Mom is using a word I don't like the sound of - surgery. 

Nope. Don't like the sound of that at all. My boy bits hurt the last time I had surgery. This does not bode well for little ol' me.

I hurt my paw

I hurt my right front paw. I don't know how I did it. I don't remember doing it. Mom dragged me to the vet so I really wish I hadn't done it.

It started on Sunday. I heard Mom ask Dad if he'd noticed me limping. He said maybe and that was all it took. Mom turned into a hover-hawk-Mom. Every time I walked she watched me. She even took me outside for no reason except to watch me walk.

Yesterday, that was Monday, my paw hurt a little worse when Mom took me outside first thing in the morning so I could do my outside activity stuff. Then she told Dad which meant Dad took me outside during the day but he wouldn't play ball. He didn't want me to do any running. Then before Mom and I went to bed, they ganged up on me.

They tricked me into getting on the bed and rolling over. Then Dad held the flashlight while Mom examined my paw. She told Dad she saw a red bump that looked like a pimple. (What the hell is a pimple?) She told Dad if I wasn't better in a day or two, she'd call the vet.

Mom lied. She called the vet this morning!

It seems she didn't like the way I limped this morning, or that I held my front paw up when I tinkled. (She laughed at me when I did that. Don't let her say she didn't.) Then they double-teamed me on the bed again. Mom had my paw and hit a spot that really hurt and I sorta almost snapped at her it hurt so bad.

I was really ashamed I did that. Mom fussed me just a little bit because she had to but then she stroked my face and told me it was okay. She understood it had hurt.

And then she called the vet.  She even left work early to come get me and Dad. 

The vet was really nice to me. I could tell he didn't mean to hurt me but he did. He took a real sharp needle and jabbed the pimple. I hate needles! Then he squeezed my paw some more and I did not like that at all, but my paw felt a little better after he did that. Mom said there was nasty stuff in there I don't want to know about. 

Now Mom has pills to give me every day for five days which means cheese. I love cheese! Maybe I'll allow her to soak my foot in Epsom salt like the vet said and maybe I won't. We'll have to see about that. 

I'll have to be more careful outside. This could have been a lot worse than the vet sticking me. Dad said my paw might have fallen off! I think he's pulling my tail. 

Isn't he?

It wasn't toooo bad

Mom took me to the vet this morning. For the record, I do not like going to the vet. 

The ride to town was okay, I guess, but as soon as Mom opened the truck door, I knew where I was. I peed right then and there. Right on the parking lot. That's my commentary on the whole thing. I'm a Lab. If we can't chase it, play with it, or eat it, we PEE ON IT. 

Mom called me ornery like it was a funny thing and then convinced me I had to go inside and get it over with. So I went inside. 

And three women mobbed me! Seriously, I know I'm handsome. I'm Deuce! But three of them?  

Then they wanted me to sit on the scales. Um.... no. I didn't like that idea because the scale moved when I put my paw on it. So these three Amazons who said I was soooo handsome and soooo good just picked me up and put me on the scale. Am I some threat to society or something that they had to dog-handle me? They didn't even give Mom a chance to explain it to me so I could do it myself!  I would have figured it out because Mom never makes me do anything that would hurt me. Maybe next time will be better. Anyway, I weigh eighty pounds now. I'm not a pup anymore. I'm full grown! 

Mom took me into an examination room with a bench so you know I jumped up and lay across Mom's lap to protect her. The vet came in and tried to make nice with me by giving me some sort of organic dog biscuit. Yeah. Right. Like I was going to eat THAT. Mom had Grillers in the pickup so I decided to hold out for those. 

I got three shots to prevent distemper, kennel cough, and rabies. I guess it wasn't as bad as I remembered. I was still a little guy when I had the other shots. That makes a difference. 

I was glad to get home. Dad and I played a little Frisbee and then Mom took some pictures of me. It was all good, but I'm sorta sleepy now. Mom says I'm "lethargic" and I need a nap. Sounds like a good idea to me. 

No! No! This can't be right.

I heard Mom tell Dad I had an appointment with the vet next Friday morning for "booster shots." This is NOT a good thing. I hate needles. Mom had better have something good planned to make up for this. 

If I close my eyes, will this go away? If I can't see it, it can't hurt me, right?

Oh, my stomach...

What did I eat? My belly hurts...

I've been feeling bad for a few days. I don't remember what I ate, but it bit me back. I had to go outside - and then I had to go again. And again. I got a good cleaning out but it was not a pleasant experience. Every time I'd get a drink, I'd have to go outside. So I stopped drinking and Mom went crazy. 

She started to talk about taking me to the vet. I do not like the vet. He sticks me with sharp needles. Mom gave me ice cubes and that was okay. So when Dad offered me a little Gatorade, I slurped it down. For future reference, it wasn't bad. It made me want to drink more. Can a dog get addicted to Gatorade?

I'm being very careful this morning. I drank a little bit and ate a Meaty Bone biscuit, but I'm not quite ready for a big meal. Maybe Dad will make me toast again. I liked that. I want to play ball, too, and Mom said no. She said I have to eat a meal first. Mom's tough, but she loves me. 

She got some of her homemade chicken broth out of the freezer and mixed it with water. I drank the whole bowl! She says if that "sits" well, in about an hour she'll put some over a little bit of my puppy chow and see what happens. 

Whatever I ate, and Mom says we'll never know because it was more than likely something outside on the ground, I hope this never happens again. 

I don't like to feel sick. 

Not again!

Does this look like my happy face? 

It started out to be such a great day. Mom was up early and we went outside. I wanted to play in the puddles but Mom asked me to wait, so I did. 

I was glad I listened because I got to go back to bed with Mom and Dad for an hour. Mom's right. I do take up more room now. 

Then Dad got up early for a Saturday. I should have sensed something was afoot. When Mom put my special training collar on me, I thought we were going to class, but nooooo. I heard Dad say "vet" and I knew.

More needles. I do not like needles. I don't care how much beef jerky the vet gives me, I do not like needles. I don't like them cutting my nails, either, but the girl was quick. 

The good news is I don't have to have any more shots for a whole year! The vet petted me and said I looked good. I looked at Mom and rolled my eyes. Mom knows I'm a handsome lad. 

Once we were back home, she let me off the leash and I ran for the water puddle! It was worth the wait! I splashed around like a big dog and made Mom laugh. I am a Labrador Retriever. We like water.  Mom didn't even fuss me for dripping on the floor.  

But what's this "snip-snip" everyone is talking about? I don't get it. 

Again? More needles? Why?

I had to go to the vet this morning. Have I mentioned the vet likes to stick me with sharp needles? I don't like it much but Mom says I have to get vaccinated to help keep me healthy.

We took Dad's pickup to the vet's office. I sorta knew something was up. Mom was s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g words. I don't think I'll tell her I know what that means. 

I got on the scale and did "sit" just like Mom taught me. I weigh 23 pounds. Mom filled out some forms and then the girl cut my nails. It was okay, but Mom doing it is better. 

Then the vet came in and gave me two shots. He's nice, but he can keep his needles. He says I'm doing great and I look good. 

Of course I look good. I'm Deuce! 

When we got home, Mom gave me lunch and I took a little nap beside Dad's chair. Then my Aunt Donna and Uncle Mike came to visit. They brought my cousin Buster down to meet me. I was a little hesitant because Buster's older and bigger, but we got along okay. 

Now I get to take another nap and then we're going someplace called Lowe's. 

I sure hope they don't have needles there.