Yesterday morning my assigned task was to get Snickers to the Veterinarian's Office by 7:30 a.m. Of course, it didn't help when I received notification the day before that I needed to arrive five minutes early and that if I was over ten minutes late, I would forfeit Snicker's appointment time and would need to reschedule.
Sunday night the General wanted to know what time I planned to leave? I answered her question, and she responded that I didn't need to leave that early. It probably would have been logical for me to ask what time she thought I should leave? I didn't ask the question. I suspect that my guesswork regarding the flow of traffic on a weekday morning is as good as hers.
Of course, before I could get out the door yesterday morning, she put Snicker's insulin in an ice pack and gave me strict instructions on what to communicate to the person at the desk once I got to the clinic. There was also dog food for me to take, along with other medicine Snickers usually takes.
Snickers is diabetic, and annually we go through the retesting process to ascertain how much insulin he needs. The downside to bringing a rescue dog into your home is that the Veterinarian's Office becomes the site of routine-costly visits.
In addition to his diabetes and blindness, Snickers has other health issues. Of course, they are all offset by his playful and loving disposition. He is really a sweet dog.
Twice daily, before he will relax and allow the General to hold him close while I administer his insulin injections, I have to rub his head at least three different times. It is almost as if he is playing a game with me.
I made it to the Vet's office on Tuesday morning with fifteen minutes to spare. Maybe the General was right. I hurriedly scrambled to retrieve the dog, the container of used syringes and the baggie containing the medication, food and medication.
When I got to the door of the building, the signage clearly read, "All dogs must be on a leash." I didn't have a leash. That was an element the General had overlooked. I guardedly held Snickers tightly next to me while I apologized to the lady at the counter that I didn't have a leash. I put the container filled with previously used syringes, insulin, dog food and medication on the counter.
I repeated all of the information the General wanted shared exactly as she had instructed. I didn't get the sense that the person hearing the information was carefully following everything I said. I called to her attention again that the insulin needed to be refrigerated. I even asked if she wanted me to take it out of the bag? She didn't.
She was more interested in the container of syringes, asking: "Why did I bring them?" I explained that they were all used and I wanted them to dispose of them. She countered, "You didn't buy these syringes from us. They aren't the kind that we sell." I replied I routinely bring in a container of used syringes for disposal and that it has never been a problem. "
She picked up the container of syringes and walked away. I turned to walk away and stopped in my tracks when she said: "Don't forget to leave Snickers."
I wasn't sure I was completely comfortable leaving Snickers, but I also knew I'd be in big trouble if I brought him back home without leaving him for a day of testing. So, would I have walked out the door with him had the lady not said anything?
I don't know the answer the the question.
All My Best!
Don