Day 1 of 14

Today I was lucky.  Tucker was given his pill by the vet, Dr. B., although he didn’t go down without a fight. In the past, whenever Dr. B. tries to give him a treat, Tucker responds with the doggie snub and heads for the door as if the office is on fire and it’s every man, woman, and child for himself. So, rather than offer him the “treat,” we decided that Dr. B. should just, well, shove it down his throat. What I saw next will forever traumatize me.

In the split second it took Dr. B. to grab Tucker’s mouth, he clamped it shut like he was in an alligator impersonator competition and was playing to win. He began wildly flinging his head from side to side while simultaneously attempting to flee.  Meanwhile, Dr. B. was doing her best to hang on to Tucker, pry open his mouth without getting bit and somehow shove the pill down his throat. There was much thrashing about, shouting (I think that was me), slipping, grunting (could have been me), furniture being shoved around, and swearing (definitely me).  Time stood still as I watched, mesmerized by the two of them stubbornly fighting it out.

Suddenly, as quickly as it began, the battle between the two stopped and it looked like Dr. B. was the victor.  Tucker stopped fighting, Dr. B. let go of his mouth and we all breathed a sigh of relief.  It was worth the fight, I thought, Tucker took his pill and he was one step closer to getting better.  I started to smile.

Then Tucker spit out the pill.

Never one to admit defeat, Dr. B., quickly picked up the pill, offered it to Tucker and he promptly swallowed it.  He then looked at the two of us as if we were insane.

Dr. B. and I responded the only way we saw fit.  We rolled our eyes.

Exhausted, I thanked Dr. B. for her efforts and left the office, anxious to take Tucker home.

But not before stopping at the wine store.