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Saturday, May 23, 2015

What happens when you replace kids with dogs.

Languishing in luxury

When my fox terrier, Celine, has to have her annual parvo virus shot, a certain protocol needs be put in place. Firstly, I must call the funeral parlour to arrange which doggy songs we need to play for her inevitable and untimely departure, then, I have to arrange for the pall bearers, Pablo, Borat (German Shepherd) and Willy (Silky Terrier) to be groomed and coached in preparation for her requiem mass, and thirdly I have to be prepared for the Camille-like languishing which must surely precede her demise; the vague cough, the plaintive facial expressions and the croaking entreaties for water.

Yawn. My fox terrier is a hypochondriac.

I know when my kids had their measles/mumps/whooping cough (whatever) needle, they had a minimally tender arm for 24 hours… but this dog is unbelievable. She needs to be carried out the back door for wee wees, carried up and downstairs to bed, refuses hand fed treats and moans theatrically every time I walk past her.

It’s like living with an eighteenth century consumption patient.

She sits shivering on the couch staring with googly, dilated eyeballs whilst Scotto and I bring her ice blocks to lick in order to stem the fever. You can’t touch any part of her body lest she scream like a banshee and God forbid anyone try to coax her from her eyrie on top of a half dozen pillows on the couch.

Even Monet would gag at the histrionics.

But I know the next morning she’ll awake, shake out her ears like Dumbo and forget the entire experience, whilst I will have lain awake all night, imagining finding a cold, stiff, hairy carcass at my feet when I stir from a restless and sweaty sleep in the morning.

People say when your kids grow up you find peace at last- but it’s not true. Idiots such as myself, replace children with dogs. And dogs are far worse let me assure you.

We took Pablo the Chihuahua with us this morning to have his claws clipped while his sister Celine was going under the ‘knife’. 

“He’s become fat!” Our vet, Chris, was shocked when he spied the corpulent Chihuahua. It’s true. Pablo has beefed up a bit. I still thought it was a bit rude though. Pablo has a Mexican metabolism; those from south of the border like their siestas and enchiladas with extra cheese and sour cream on the side. It’s a cultural thing.

But do you know it costs twelve dollars to have a dog’s claws clipped? That’s almost as much as it costs me to have a manicure. Maybe I should be booking into the vet to have my fingernails done.

But now we find out the bloody fox terrier has to have its teeth cleaned. The procedure apparently requires the mutt to be placed under a general anaesthetic which all up should only cost a mere fudging THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS!

How long since you had a scale and clean? Ninety bucks tops? 

Do you think I should just take my dog to the dentist?