It was a lovely Saturday morning. The sun was shining and there was a hint of Autumn in the air. Although there seems to be as many animal hospitals or clinics as there are furniture stores in this part of the country, I had chosen a veterinarian in a small town, north of the city.
Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, needed a rabies vaccine. The trip was going to take about forty minutes, one way. Runtly has been doing practice runs riding in the truck. In the past, he was absolutely terrified, but since we have been doing these mini rides, he seems to be getting the hang of it. One mention of "a ride in the truck" or the jingle of the keys and he is ready to go. He still has to sit right beside me as we go down the road, but it seemed to be progress in the right direction.
We hopped into the truck and started the journey. The clinic was only open from 8-11 on Saturday mornings and the plan was to get there about 10. Runtly sat beside me as we left the safe confines of the complex. One mile down the road and arriving at the first left turn, I glanced over to the passenger seat. There sat The Voice, that lives inside of my head, peering into a small animal carrier. Knowing The Voice does not have a pet, I took another look and realized it had put a pair of shoes in the container. I rolled my eyes and as the light turned green, we made the first left turn.
Another mile down the road, Runtly decided the ride was not near the fun he had anticipated and tried to get to the floor board. I knew if he managed to get there, he would be under my feet and the brake pedal. I grabbed his harness and held him at arms length. Looking at the clock, going back for the crate wasn't an option.
I was thankful that I had spent the last month trying to get into better shape. Driving 60 mph, holding 15 pounds of squirming dog at arms length, for 30 miles, was quite a workout. There was so much dog hair flying around the inside of the cab, The Voice even rolled down the window to let some of it out. After it rolled the window back up, it peered again into the small animal carrier and cooed gently to the pair of shoes.
The clinic did not take appointments so it was a first come first serve situation. I thought arriving at ten was a good idea. As I pulled into the parking lot, everyone else from the city must have had the same idea. The place was packed.
We entered into a waiting room lined with people, pooches and one lone cat. After getting checked in and finding a seat, we began the waiting process. The clinic did not actually close at 11, that is when they stopped taking clients.
Animals do not usually forget their first visit to the veterinarian. This was made even more obvious watching large breed dogs get that first whiff of where they were, when coming in the door. Then, watching as they had to be pulled across the waiting room floor.
Runtly was no exception. After a two hour wait, along with getting reprimanded for barking, he was certainly a sad looking canine as I pulled him into the examination room.
Once in there, it was discovered Runtly needed a simple test that required a small amount of blood to be drawn. This is where the real fun began. I could not hold him, no matter how hard I tried. The young assistant finally convinced me to let her hold him because I was beginning to look like a shredded tissue. I relented and she took control. Runtly began to wail like a banshee and I had to stand in front of him so he could see that I was still there.
Needless to say, I certainly did not have to drag him out of the clinic. I was hoping the trauma he had just experienced would calm him down for the trip back home. I was wrong about that.
Another 30 miles, with him held at arm's length and five hours from when we had first left, we were home. Runtly promptly went to his favorite spot under the couch and The Voice took its shoes out of the carrier and put them back in the closet. I grabbed my billfold and headed out the door because grocery shopping was next on my "to do" list. As I got back into the truck and saw the carnage of white dog hair, that my husband was going to be thrilled with, I knew one thing for certain. My dreams of road tripping in a motor home with Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, front and center, was certainly not going to happen any time soon.
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