Sue likes to ask me each day when I get home, How were the puppies and kitties?
Yesterday at work I was serenaded my entire shift by a 20 week old French bulldog. He had on an e-collar for a scratched eye and was singing the blues, which sounded a little like an ewok with a mouth full of peanut butter.
He was a solid 20 lbs, a brick of black fur, flat face and a whole body that wiggled, we decided, because he had so little tail.
When he finally fell asleep, he snored.
Compare this with a later, petite patient. My day ended with an appointment with a sweet 13 yr old Chihua with a host of problems: teeth, knees, heart. She kindly submitted to an exam and then blood draw. Then Tiny Dog came out to say hi and everyone applauded the mirrored looks and natures, and this brought much merriment.
These two appointments fulfilled what my teenage brain thought being a vet meant. I will be the first to say it’s a tough profession on your brain, heart and nerves some days. But I have to pause when we have these cushions amongst harder hours. Viva la small dogs! Thank you.