As we slowly venture out, WEARING OUR MASKS, and getting a peek at the familiarity, we are navigating new rules. This was never truer than taking Elliot to the vet recently for his yearly booster shots and physical.
Elliot is Tom's dog through and through, and as such, I gave Tom the responsibility of vet visits. But we are in unprecedented times, and my husband is exposed enough out in the workforce, so I agreed I would handle this year's exam. When the appointment was confirmed, I was informed I would not be entering the building with my dog. Instead, I was to pull into the parking lot, call the clinic to let them know Elliot was here for his appointment, and a vet tech would come out to retrieve him. I would wait in the car until the visit was complete, at which time I would have my payment ready.
Me: "But I have questions for the vet."
Them: "The vet tech will relay those questions."
The girl had to pull out a piece of paper and a pen to write them all down after I got going, but at least she didn't try to keep them all stored in her brain.
Elliot had fleas when we brought him home as a puppy. I was as irritated then as I am still to this day because the poor dog has had skin issues I know stems from those early bloodsuckers. While we've had vet, after expert, after do-gooder offer helpful advice, nothing has worked. Elliot lives daily with itchy skin and a body covered in sores that heal only to reappear in another spot.
Until I took him to the vet before the end of the year because he was constantly licking his paws. This was before COVID, and I laid down the law much like I would've with my children's pediatrician. Especially when the vet told me the licking was in regards to his skin problems. Low and behold, dogs now have allergy medication, and Elliot was put on a regiment of a daily pill, which cost double what we pay for Darcy's allergy medication.
I didn't care because it worked. Tom, on the other hand, did care, and when he talked to another pet owner and discovered his dog received shots every three months, thus lowering the cost, Tom added that to my growing lists of questions.
The vet gave Elliot the shot on top of his other shots, and Elliot gave us the stink eye when the vet tech returned him to the car. Not even a Starbucks pupuccino helped. Which is why I made Tom drop off the dog two days later for his dental appointment.
I don't know what prompted Tom to ask me to schedule that visit because Elliot has only visited the dentist once before to have his teeth cleaned. We didn't argue with Tom, however, because Elliot's breath during COVID was killing us. That turned out to be because he had eight infected teeth that had to be pulled.
Tom dealt with the three calls back and forth from the vet's office, and I only had to pick up our poor dog.
Me: "Remember who dropped you off and who is now helping you escape this place, sweet baby toothless poodle-leg boy."
They shaved the leg of the same damn paw he licks (the vet claimed that behavioral), and now he licks his chicken leg 24/7. It drives us crazy, and after a dog owner's SnapChat told me to be cautious about that, I called the vet. He said this was due to the hair growing back and suggested purchasing a deterrent spray. It did not stop Elliot from licking, although it did stop my daughter from eating with her hands since she was the one who administered the spray, getting the solution on her own hands. Elliot didn't give a damn about the taste. Madison did.
My friend offered up her cone of shame to help with the licking. We, however, found a better use for it:
Our soon to be eleven-year-old dog is now eight teeth down sporting a red, wet, chicken leg with a fur boot. But his skin is great and his breath doesn't reek and he is up to date on his shots for another year.
Elliot: "But COVID is still out there. We need to stay quarantined. Nothing but harm will come from us venturing out again. No more going out!"
I'm tending to agree with you on that, buddy. Quarantine day 100 coming soon.
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