Howdy Friends,
And so the day had come. After a good few weeks of speculation and pondering over whether or not to get my baby castrated I had finally made the decisions and the day was here. As I bundled my little bundle of joy into the front passengers seat and sat my packed lunch on the floor next to him I looked into his deep black eyes as he wondered where the fuck I was taking him so early in the day.
As we pulled off the drive way I couldn't help but think that our older pooch would be glad of the peace and quiet, a restful day for her no doubt. A thought crossed my mind as I drove out of the village that maybe my little fur-baby thought I was bringing him to work with me, another Momma and Pupper day out. No this was not the case I am afraid little one. We are off to the Vets to get you snipped.
As I had queried before, ever since I knew I wanted a puppy I have always wanted a boy. I suppose as that is what most people revert back to with the whole "whose a good boy" thing, even with our female pooch. I had considered studding him out like some sort of doggo pimpess however on closer consideration I decided to protect his innocence and get him castrated. The surgical way of neutering a male meant that ultimately I would be preventing him from reproducing and since I had no real breeding or stud plan and would only really doing it ad-hoc and when we needed money on a cash-cow basis I thought it unfair to give him a taste and then to take it away from him, leaving him hungry for more with no real idea whether it ill be next month, next year or ever.
Arriving at the Veterinary Practice in good time we needed a nit of a clean up operation in the car as there was a little pukey accident. Nevertheless we carried on and I attended his Pre-Op check over to confirm his vitals and that he was healthy to undergo the procedure.
"Now dont expect any phone call before about 2pm, he probably will be sleepy until about then anyway from the anaesthesia" the Nurse said as I left my baby in her arms.
Heading out the door of the clinic I rushed to work and made it there just in time.
Worrying all morning I thought of the horror stories I had heard about it all going wrong and how my Aunties dog had nearly died as the Vet's didn't know he was allergic to anaesthetic. Just as I had thought what would happen if I lost my little Franker-doodles the phone rang. It was the Vets. It was also 11am - Much before the 2pm expected time of the call! Answering I must have sounded panicked as the lovely receptionist put my mind at easy and said he was out from theatre and that the surgery had been a success. After explaining how the rest of the day would go she hung up and I looked forward to being able to see my little floof later on, all in the knowledge that he was in the absolute best capable hands and being very well looked after with plenty of fuss and cuddles.
Getting back to work it was less than twenty-minutes before I received another call. Again, I answered worried for what had happened in the mean time.
"So everything is fine but .. " the receptionist began as she continued to tell me how much my pup hated being in the kennels. I explained (as if they didn't already know) that he has just woken up from major surgery where he is in a tiny cold cage and doesn't know anyone's faces that are coming to him. Of course he is going t be freaked out. The receptionist pushed further and asked if I could come and collect him as he just wasn't settling. After explaining that I worked over forty-minutes away in Bedford and that I couldn't collect him she pushed further and asked if there was any way I could collect him on my lunch break. Feeling like a cold-ass bitch I stated that I only have a half-hour lunch break and I could not make it to the practice and back in that time, nor that it would be practical as I would then have to drop him back home to be alone and by himself which simply wasn't fair. I explained that whilst I appreciated he was a bit noisy and needy and unsettled that I would try and leave work earlier but that it wasn't set in stone.
Finishing at my normal time I hurried over to the Veterinary practice to pick up my little lump with no bumps. No sooner had I walked through the door and I heard him, crying in a back room somewhere. I wanted to just rush straight through, but I knew I couldn't. But if I thought that was annoying and grating I hadn't had the full force of the Franken-toad yet. Checking myself in I heard him silence as he listened for my voice. As soon as he had confirmed it was me there was no stopping the little fella. Howling and crying and barking and screaming and woofing and all the carrying on as if he was being murdered.
"He is sooo cute ... " the nurses and the receptionist began.
"But he has been doing this all day" they said with a slight grimace across their smiles. Embarrassed I hung my head and hoped no one else with all their well behaved pets would ask any questions. They did. And I had no choice but to own up. Yes that noisy little monster was mine. My Frankenstein. Bringing him out I think the staff were glad to see the back of me, and walking out I booked in our follow up Post-Op visit for a few days time.
That evening we had a very sleepy puppy, and when he wasn't sleeping he was either staring off into space as he was so fucking high or bumbling around in a drunken like stooper. A bit of tea and an early night for him Mr Warehouse and I put our little Frankle-puff to bed and headed off ourselves. Since then he has been right as rain. Still fucking manic and non-stop, but I suppose that is what you get with a toy poodle cross jack russell.
Even for Warehouse's surprise birthday party on Saturday I thought that he would have calmed down a bit but nope. Just chased his sister (Momma Warehouse bought his sister, a smooth coated version of him, almost Dachshund in appearance so they can still be in touch) round the garden and playing with the kids. I was able to steal away a moment for myself (after ushering Mr Warehouse out to the pub to watch footie and rushing around like a blue arse fly all morning trying to get everything ready) I stood by the back door, watching the pups play, in fact watching all our family and friends drink and chat, laughing away with each other. It was then that I realised that I was probably at the peak of happiness, at least since last year anyway. Oh what a difference a year makes - Engaged, Homeowner and has her own puppy. I mean all bar earning over £23k a year I have ticked off all my New Years Resolutions, well, that and slimming down to a size 14 as usual.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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