I have a mutt with an expensive butt.
I don't know how it happened. At the end of September I rescued a dog from a shelter and by the end of January I've spent over a thousand dollars on her already. What is wrong here? Huston, we have idiot lift off and Captain Alyson is at the helm.
In the short span of four months we transformed a socially backwards and scared out of her wits puppy into a semi-obedient diva who stalks my house like she owns it. Britt is not a pretty dog and her pedigree is a blend of every kind of dog you can think off. This mix created an odd jumble of sweetness and PMS. The worst side effect of her questionable origins is over-active anal glands. Yum.
So, like any good doggie owner would do, I took her to the vet. According to the doc, the act of squirting skunk-like fluids on me is not vital to the dogs health and can be removed. Thank heavens. I got a quote and made a date.
As I waited, the anticipation of extracting this vile section of my dog was a killer. I thought the end of January would never come. Hell, I lost sleep over it. The day came, I passed her off with a scratch behind the ear and went home. I admit, I am a weird pet owner and I fret over my animals like I fret over my boys. I called enough times to get on the wrong side of the receptionist's good graces. Finally she was done and fit enough to come home.
I usually enjoy going to the vet. They are nice folks. However, the doc dropped a few words that made me sweat. Cankered. Swollen. Took an hour longer than planned. Massively infected. All of those words are bad. Why? Because it means CHA CHING! That's why. I got an account summary and what I read made me cough up a little bile.
Four months, numerous visits, six shots, one blood work lab and a butt surgery later and suddenly I'm out a cool grand.
Congratulations to me. I own an expensive dog butt.