Hours Later...

Cooper never fails to surprise. The yelping and howling began in the parking lot. Three minutes in the waiting room and it intensified. He wasn’t interested in the hot dogs I brought along. Two minutes in the exam room and it worsened. As the vet raised the table I couldn’t even hear him speak. It was loud. It was shrill. I think he was losing hair like a porcupine loses quills when it is frightened. The vet had to take him in the back and sit on him while the other vet drew blood. I wasn’t allowed in the room. The vet thought Coop was showing off for me - screaming so loud I’d make them stop.

I count it as a success no one was injured as well as the fact my husband said I didn’t have to do it again.

A more mellow Cooper...

Today's Agenda

So. Today. Things to do. Hike in the park to wear the dog out. Lunch with friend. Cooper to Beyla's to play. Then - the appointment. I dread it more than anything in the world.

The vet's office.

Cooper. A snuggly little, tight-bellied pup from 3 years ago.

Now - a crazy, high-maintenance, 95 pound half-wolf.

That's called an ulcer-on-a-leash. Or an apology letter in the mailbox. Or a lawsuit.

And you may think, "What could a big dog like that be afraid of?" Cats. Vacuum cleaners. Hairdryers. Japanese paper umbrellas. Lighters (a good thing). My sister's miniature dachsunds. Fireworks. Children. Especially children in dark clothing. Especially children with darker skin. I know - Horrible. Especially horrible when lead by a shaved-headed man in a wife-beater with arms covered in tattoos. Especially when caucasian children receive playful licks and sniffs and darker-skinned children receive growls and views of big, sharp teeth. Can't explain it.

After careful demonstrations by Curtis on how to hold Cooper during the heartworm test, I think we're ready. Perhaps long-sleeves would be a good choice today. And a baggie of raw chicken-necks for Cooper. And a margarita in a travel mug for me.

I'll let you know how it goes.