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Fun times at the vet’s with the Tornado Twins

Heidi Rice
Post Independent
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
Fried Rice
ALL |

“Who wants to go to the VET?” Husband-Head asked excitedly, looking at our two big yellow Labrador Retrievers the other morning.

The dogs clearly had no clue as to what he was saying, but responded by furiously wagging their tails, thinking that something really good was about to happen.

Actually, one of the dogs – Wyatt – has no problem going to the vet and will bolt straight from the truck to the front door of the clinic, but not before peeing on the entire front lawn.



Weber, on the other hand, is completely paranoid and must be dragged by his collar to the front door as he shakes uncontrollably.

“What in the world do you think he’s scared of?” I asked Husband-Head with concern. “They’ve never hurt him.”



“I dunno,” Husband-Head shrugged. “Maybe he thinks we’re going to have him euthanized or something. He has no idea whether that shot is a simple rabies vaccine or if he’s about to take a dirt nap.”

On this particular morning, we were just doing some routine follow-up exams on both dogs, but I was very happy that Husband-Head was coming with me. Usually, I’m the one stuck taking them in, but I can only do one dog at a time as they are not very well behaved and I have absolutely no control over them.

The nice people at the vet clinic, in fact, still chuckle about the time when an uncontrollable Wyatt dragged me on my butt all over the front lawn before one of the staff members came out to rescue me … while an elderly man who happened to be sitting out in a lawn chair looked on in amazement.

“That guy still laughs about it,” one of the vet techs told me a couple years later.

Ha-ha.

And it hasn’t changed. So on this trip Husband-Head was coming with me so we could each handle a dog and hopefully not create a big scene, which is why I always ask for one of the first appointments of the day, in order to avoid other clients and their pets.

“Please don’t let anyone else be there … please don’t let there be any other dogs in the waiting room,” I silently prayed on the way to the vet.

My prayers were answered as I’m sure those of the vet’s staff were when they saw us coming.

“Oh LOOK!” the nice vet tech cried out as we came barreling through the front door – each dog bouncing off the walls and wreaking havoc. “It’s the Tornado Twins! How fun!”

Somehow I knew that’s not what she said when went into the back room to inform the doctor of our arrival…

And, as usual, our precious pooches weren’t very cooperative when it came time to be weighed before being quickly ushered into the small examining room.

Once inside, Wyatt got so excited he began repeatedly jumping on my lap and licking my face while I alternately laughed and screamed.

Sensing the excitement in the room, Weber chimed in and began barking furiously.

“Good God, are they ALWAYS this bad?” Husband-Head hissed. “How embarrassing!”

“YES!” I hissed back. “In fact, I think we have a reputation for having the worst-behaved canines in the county!”

The doctor finally came in – with a big smile on her face.

“Sorry, but we couldn’t help standing outside the door listening and laughing at you guys,” she admitted honestly.

At least she had a sense of humor about the chaos we were creating.

Our very patient vet finished examining our unruly little bundles of joy and we got ready to leave.

“NO! Not yet!” the vet tech said as she came flying into the room. “There’s a huge110-pound Bull Mastiff coming up the walkway right now!”

The vet quickly ushered us through the back room and out a side door so we wouldn’t be detected and I felt like we were in a spy movie.

“Secret … AGENT man! Secret … AGENT man!”

We got the dogs into the bed of the truck and then scrambled into the cab ourselves.

“Wow,” Husband-Head said with a sigh of relief that it was over. “That was, like, a huge fiasco. I thought going to the dentist was a big deal, but it’s nothing compared to that.”

We headed home and I turned around to make sure our little darlings were staying in the truck.

A 1970s Gilbert O’Sullivan song then came to mind.

“You’re a BAD DOG, baby! But I still want you around!”

Heidi Rice is a columnist for the Citizen Telegram and the Post Independent. Her column runs every Thursday in the CT and every Friday in the PI. Visit her website at http://www.heidirice.com to see more columns or her buy her book collection of columns.


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