Another sleep deprived day.  Dear Hubby woke me early to say that Gavin’s face was still swollen but not quite as much as last night.  I had him call the vet while I showered and dressed.  We had the choice of going in around 11 a.m. to see a vet who hasn’t seen our dogs nor does he know us, or wait until 2:45 to see our favorite vet.  We chose the 2:45 appointment.  Gavin doesn’t care who it is he sees he doesn’t want to be there anyway.

     Gavin loves to ride in the car, but he hates going to the vet’s office.  I thank my lucky stars that he doesn’t have to go often.  When we arrive, he’ll hop out of the car, mark the porch steps, walk inside, sit on the scale long enough to give a paw and have his weight checked, and all is hunky dory until I begin to walk him to an exam room.  He puts on the brakes and drops to the floor.  You can offer him all the cookies in the world and he won’t get to his feet and walk.

     If you’ve ever wondered why a vet’s office has slippery floors, it’s for chicken dogs.  They slide along rather nicely.  Of course, one looks like a cruel person while one drags a flattened, floor hugging, 65 pound dog across the waiting room.  The only time he’ll get to his feet is when you cross the threshold of the exam room and he decides it’s time to leave.  DH has learned to close the door fast.  (Now you know why I drag DH along.) 

     While we wait for the vet to come in, Gavin tries to hide under the chair DH is sitting on.  Heck, he even tried to crawl under my purse.  When the vet came in, I was sitting on the floor with 65 pounds of shaking, shedding, white dog on my lap.  He shed enough fur to knit another dog in the few minutes we waited.  I’ve never had a vet phobic dog before so bear with me.  Gavin won’t look our vet in the face even when bribed with the tastiest of treats. 

     The vet wanted to look in Gavin’s mouth—well, let’s say he wanted to, tried to, but then broke down into the giggles and asked if we had a jack.  I suggested a crow bar.  Gavin was NOT going to open his mouth.  The scenario is that we all hope it’s a bee sting or something to that effect.  However, in case it is an infection the vet decided he had to do something.

     One antibiotic shot and a couple of prescriptions later we were out off there.  Gavin hauled ass to get out of the building, and pile into the car.  I’m to call them every day to let them know how Chicken Dog is and if the swelling doesn’t go down and Gavin isn’t back to his old self in a few days we’ll go back.  They will sedate him to take a good look in his mouth.  {Sigh}  Since the day he arrived, this dog has never been ‘easy.’