Sixty-five pounds of muscle, wrapped in white fur, flattened on the floor of the vet’s office like road kill and had to be dragged across the slippery floor to the exam room.  It’s a good thing they keep those floors slippery.

     Dr O couldn’t help but laugh when he walked into the exam room and Gavin, upon hearing our vet’s voice,  levitated and landed behind me to hide.  Ten years of going to the same vet and the idiot dog still hides from the man.

     Shots were given, blood taken, eye with conjunctivitis checked and Gavin was released from his torture.   Much to his joy, I took him out to the van to sit with G while I paid the bill.