I do not have the patience to wait quietly.

Captain is at the vet, waiting with the dog.

Today's visit is one part stitches removal and two parts bloodwork for the Cushing's test.

Apparently, they draw Colonel's blood (which he loves) and then give him an injection of something (which he also loves) and then Captain and Colonel sit in the lobby for an hour until they can draw Colonel's blood again.

Then... they wait for the results.

For awhile, we considered sending me along on this hellish vet visit, but we both realized that I do not have the patience to sit there, quietly and unfidgety, waiting to find out if my dog is very, very sick or just... I don't know, allergic to something.

I'd spend the entire time anxiously guarding the dog from little children who apparently do not know better than to approach strange dogs and their crappy parents who do not care/know better than to let their small bite sized children approach strange dogs that clearly have an anxious owner trying to run interference. Then the parents almost always get shirty with me when I end up shoving my hand/body between their precious little one's hand and Colonel's mouth as I (again, gently) say "Please don't touch, sweetie, he's not a friendly doggy". Because, obviously, as a pet owner, it is my job to make sure my dog is completely petable by all small children. Seriously though, I make sure Colonel is off in a corner as far away from other people/animals as I can in a crowded waiting room, usually keeping my legs on either side of him so I can curl my body protectively around his if need be, with the dog on a relatively tight leash (enough slack that he can lie down, but not enough that he can walk away) and I'm practically radiating "Look but don't touch". I have done my duty as a cranky dog owner.

Cranky applying to both me and the dog.

I think the problem is that Colonel sits there smiling his dopey underbite grin, tail wagging, looking like a good doggy who just wants pettings (which he does) and people just assume he's safe. But he's not. He's insane. He doesn't like the way some people smell, and that sets him off. He doesn't like the way some people look (little racist/sexist dog), and that sets him off. He doesn't like the way some people sound... you can see where this is going?

I've seen him sit quietly for a full ten minutes, being petted by a friend, and then suddenly snap and lunge for her face with teeth and growls, and then when he's yelled at by me, he hopped off the sofa and wagged his tail all "What? I didn't do nothin'."

And I'm completely off track.

I'm nervous.

I'm a wreck.

And this is why I'm at home and not waiting in the vet's office with my husband and the dog.

Because I'd be up, pacing the floor, waiting for results, flinching at the sight of every needle.

And now I want to throw up a little.

I hope they come home soon.

Update: Colonel Brandon is home, sans stitches. Captain said Colonel was a good boy, no one was bitten, no growling, and he (the dog) only whined a little bit when his blood was drawn.

Unfortunately, the test results won't be in until tomorrow, which means I won't hear about them until tomorrow evening because the vet seems to wait until the office is closed to call people.

I do not have the patience to wait quietly.

Captain is at the vet, waiting with the dog.

Today's visit is one part stitches removal and two parts bloodwork for the Cushing's test.

Apparently, they draw Colonel's blood (which he loves) and then give him an injection of something (which he also loves) and then Captain and Colonel sit in the lobby for an hour until they can draw Colonel's blood again.

Then... they wait for the results.

For awhile, we considered sending me along on this hellish vet visit, but we both realized that I do not have the patience to sit there, quietly and unfidgety, waiting to find out if my dog is very, very sick or just... I don't know, allergic to something.

I'd spend the entire time anxiously guarding the dog from little children who apparently do not know better than to approach strange dogs and their crappy parents who do not care/know better than to let their small bite sized children approach strange dogs that clearly have an anxious owner trying to run interference. Then the parents almost always get shirty with me when I end up shoving my hand/body between their precious little one's hand and Colonel's mouth as I (again, gently) say "Please don't touch, sweetie, he's not a friendly doggy". Because, obviously, as a pet owner, it is my job to make sure my dog is completely petable by all small children. Seriously though, I make sure Colonel is off in a corner as far away from other people/animals as I can in a crowded waiting room, usually keeping my legs on either side of him so I can curl my body protectively around his if need be, with the dog on a relatively tight leash (enough slack that he can lie down, but not enough that he can walk away) and I'm practically radiating "Look but don't touch". I have done my duty as a cranky dog owner.

Cranky applying to both me and the dog.

I think the problem is that Colonel sits there smiling his dopey underbite grin, tail wagging, looking like a good doggy who just wants pettings (which he does) and people just assume he's safe. But he's not. He's insane. He doesn't like the way some people smell, and that sets him off. He doesn't like the way some people look (little racist/sexist dog), and that sets him off. He doesn't like the way some people sound... you can see where this is going?

I've seen him sit quietly for a full ten minutes, being petted by a friend, and then suddenly snap and lunge for her face with teeth and growls, and then when he's yelled at by me, he hopped off the sofa and wagged his tail all "What? I didn't do nothin'."

And I'm completely off track.

I'm nervous.

I'm a wreck.

And this is why I'm at home and not waiting in the vet's office with my husband and the dog.

Because I'd be up, pacing the floor, waiting for results, flinching at the sight of every needle.

And now I want to throw up a little.

I hope they come home soon.

Update: Colonel Brandon is home, sans stitches. Captain said Colonel was a good boy, no one was bitten, no growling, and he (the dog) only whined a little bit when his blood was drawn.

Unfortunately, the test results won't be in until tomorrow, which means I won't hear about them until tomorrow evening because the vet seems to wait until the office is closed to call people.

Because I haven't done a meme in ages

... and also because doing this means I'm not currently paying the bills, which is boring....

Stolen from sigma7:

1. Reply to this post with "UNICORNS", and I will pick five of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never-ending cycle of icon glee.

( Icons. )

Because I haven't done a meme in ages

... and also because doing this means I'm not currently paying the bills, which is boring....

Stolen from sigma7:

1. Reply to this post with "UNICORNS", and I will pick five of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never-ending cycle of icon glee.

( Icons. )