Janie goes for her annual check-up at the vet.
The day before we leave for Florida, I take her over to see Dr. Smith. She loves going to the vet because it means meeting people. The appointment is uneventful — she checks out okay — except, of course, her weight. . . a hefty 37.2 pounds. While I write a check, Janie, in typical fashion, is pulling on the leash as she charms a lady in the lobby.
Spike and Bridget go for their check-ups in March.
I schedule appointments for consecutive days. Spike goes first and weighs in at 26.2 pounds. Dr. Smith, after the usual heartworm check, vaccinations, deworming, etc., points out that Spike could use a teeth-cleaning. Hoo-boy. That means anesthesia and big $$$. Spike went through all that a year ago. I noticed about a week later his teeth looked the same as before the cleaning. I know, tartar build-up and all that. I decide to postpone the dental cleaning until I’m more sure of my finances.
The next day I take Bridget in.
She weighs in at 26 pounds even. After the weigh-in we go to an exam room and wait. The wait is unusually long, probably because of an emergency. At last Dr. Smith comes in and starts checking her over. As we’re discussing things, I notice I’m getting clammy.
“Dr. Smith, I’m sorry to interrupt. I think I have low blood sugar.” I head out to the lobby area and sit down.
Dr. Smith follows me out. His vet tech grabs a red licorice stick out of a jar on the counter. (I call them sticks. They look like rope . . . Swizzlers?) Have you ever tried to suck some sugar out of a licorice stick? You might as well chew on a dog toy.
Meanwhile I’m crashing fast!
“This isn’t working,” I mumble as I slide off the chair to my knees on the floor. “I’m losing it . . . I’m losing it.”
The vet tech says she’s got some orange juice and runs to the back of the facility. The receptionist dials 911. Now I’m lying on the floor moaning. Someone grabs Bridget who is jumping on my head. After what seems like fifteen minutes and is probably less than two, the vet tech hands me a cup of orange juice and amazingly I’m back to normal before I finish it.
The emergency rescue truck’s siren is fast approaching.
Oh, geez. I walk out to meet the two paramedics in the parking lot. They take my blood pressure and ask a few questions. I apologize for bothering them, they’re extremely nice about it, and off they go.
After Bridget’s exam, I belly up to the counter to pay for it and to buy the heartworm/flea and tick control for $17,000 (just kidding!). It would be helpful for my lard-butt dogs to lose some weight so they would be in the much cheaper, “under 25 pound” category. Oh no, they have to be ONE POUND over which jacks up the price. Time for some serious dieting and exercise!
Dr. Smith implants ID microchips in Spike and Bridget.
The recovery service is called 24PetWatch. I figure it’s good insurance for vagabond dogs.
I finally get around to cleaning up the Perfect Tow Vehicle.
Our first road trip behind us, I now see how quickly the canine crew can mess up the PTV. It’s incredible how much dog hair my new Dirt Devil vacuum pulls off of the floor, the seats, and every other surface. I am so glad the PTV doesn’t have carpet; white dog hairs and dirt paw prints on the black vinyl floor are easy to see and remove. Not so easy to vacuum up the hairs embedded in the upholstered seats. Definitely need some kind of protection or those seats will be ruined. Errgh. Another thing to buy . . .
No more lying on the floor moaning in public!
I haven’t had another low blood sugar incident. Nor had I ever previously. Just to be on the safe side though, I now carry candy in my purse . . . something other than licorice sticks.