Tag: canine

Man Or Beast Both Have Nipples: A Tale Of The Stupidity Of Humanity

There Countless times a Day I wonder How the fuck some People can/are so fucking Stupid that They’re the reason the Saying “Too Stupid to Live” exists in the First fucking Place. This particular Saying Pertains to People so Horribly fucking Stupid it’s Amazing They haven’t inadvertently Done Themselves in by Simple Being so fucking Stupid. This is a Story about One of these Monumentally Moronic People and Sad to Say it’s Not only True, But the Client Depicted in the Story is an  Actual fucking Person.

Allow Me to Set the fucking Stage. I had been working as a Vet Tech (a Vet Tech is to a Veterinarian as a Nurse is to a Human Doctor) for 16 Years before I started working for a Notoriously Unconventional Vet. I should have known what the fuck I was getting into Since My Wife had worked for this Vet Previously. After Several Years along with some a SERIOUSLY Insane Situation (which is a Whole Different Story for another Day) My Wife Ended up Quitting, and taking a Job at a Local Animal Shelter’s Veterinary Clinic. Now being an Unconventional Person Myself I got along quite well with this Veterinarian Who We will call Dr. Rich for all intents and purposes. Basically I don’t want the Guy to find out about this Post and taking Legal Action Against Me. Trust Me Stranger shit has Happened in Life, and He is a Strange Guy.

    

Lastly the Shittiest Part of being a Vet Tech isn’t Dealing with Patients which is rather Complicated from the Get Go. What I mean is Animal Patients obviously Can’t Talk (Parrots Excluded of Course for Vets who Treat Exotic Animals as Most Don’t) so They can’t Explain What Hurst or Where it Hurts or Any Symptoms Period. In All Honesty the Worst fucking Part of Working in a Veterinary Clinic/Hospital like I said isn’t the 4 Legged Patients it’s Their 2 Legged Owners. In General Not only are Owners various Levels of Problematic They can also be Outright Assholes. Here is a Quick Example for You. A Man came in and Signed Off on His Dog’s Neutering as well as all the Bells and Whistles.

It’s Important to Point Out that Dr. Rich being Unconventional didn’t Require such things as Pre Surgical X-rays for Dentals for Example though He stated His Opinion that it could never Hurt to do Pre Surgical Shit such as Pre Surgical Bloodwork. After that He left it up to the Owner’s Digression Especially since Money is a Major Factor as is Anything fucking Medical. Now when the Time came for this Dumb Son of a Bitch to Pick Up His Dog and Pay His Bill He proceeded to have a Full Blown Shit Fit about it. The thing is the Client had NO REASON to Complain because the Dumbfuck never ASKED how Much it would Cost before He went ahead and Authorized  Everything. On Top of the Shithead arguing Over His goddamn Bill Dr. Rick worked in a VERY Wealthy Area which made things Even More Aggravating as fuck.

You see 90% of the Clients were Empty Headed, Day Drinking, Plastic Surgery Enhanced, Botox Junkie Trophy Wives Devoid of Intelligence and Personality alike.  I’m not fucking Joking when I say there was a Neighborhood where if You bought a House for $750,000 Your Neighbors would think/say shit like “Poor You, You can only afford to buy a House for $750,000.” behind Your back. That and I’ll NEVER forget this Bratty Wealth Flaunting for Clout Stupid Bitch Who came in to Pick Up Flea and Tick shit for Her Dog. After Paying She lingered around like a fucking Stank Ass Fart so She could Talk about How Rich She Was (which is a fucking Joke since Eery last goddamn Dollar She Spent wasn’t Earned by Her but Her Husband again These are Trophy Wives or Eye Candy for Cash). Anyway She’s Bitching that Her Husband wanted the Credit Card Company American Express to give Her one of Their Elitest of the Elite Black AmEx. If You Don’t know about the Mysterious AmEx Black Card You’re Not the Only one by Far. Simply put You can’t Apply for One AmEx has to give You One since to get One You have to Spend a MINIMUM of $250,000 a Year using it.

Lastly on the Subject of Exceptional Assholes was a Woman who was buying Dog Food who was standing behind another woman who was paying Her Bill. The Entire Time the Woman in front is Paying the Lady standing behind Her started gawking at the Woman’s Obscene Wedding Ring sporting a Grotesque Diamond. Long Story short the Two Women started a Heated Clout Debate over Who’s Ring was Better and what Their Rings were Worth. This was an utterly Pointless Situation started by One Rich Asshole just to Talk shit to Another Rich Asshole. Finally it’s worth Noting that the Sickeningly Extravagant Diamonds in those (and Other) Rings are Worth so Much that Rich Assholes have Them removed and Store Them in a Bank Safety Deposit Box. The Actual Real Diamonds are Replaced with Usually High End Crystal.

I think its Safe to Say that We all Know Wealthy People are Monumental Motherfuckers.They think because They have Money Everyone Else should give Them whatever the fuck They Want Whenever They want it. Money may be the Root of All Evil, but it Also the Great Stupefier of Humanity since as Soon as Someone gets Rich Their IQ’s Lower and They increasingly Act like Total Entitled Asshole that We have All come to Hate. These are the Kind of Assholes that Recoil at the word “No” because They’re so used to People kissing Their Asses enabling Them to act like They have No Idea that No is an Actual Word. Lastly I’ll add that when it comes to Difficult Clients the Veterinary Clinics/Hospitals have a Code  for them which is PIA. PIA is Reserved for Habitual Crappy Clients, and Stands for “Pain In The Ass” so if You happen to see this written on the inside of Your Pet’s File best to Reevaluate Your fucking Life.

     

On this Particular Day one of Our PIA Clients called Frantic about Her Dog. She wasn’t an Outright Asshole She was just so God Awful Stupid that it made Dealing with Her feel like Pulling fucking Teeth. I will simply Refer to Her as Moronic Mary for the Rest of this Post. I asked Her what the Problem with Her Dog was and She said the Following. “I was watching Talkshows while I was Petting My Dog. I rubbed His Belly and I felt a Bunch of Little Lumps, and I Don’t Know if Their Insect Bites or Tumors Do You think My Dog has Cancer?” At this Point I had to Remind Her that I wasn’t the Actual Vet and even if I was I can’t Diagnosis Her Dog over the fucking Phone. This only served to get Her more fucking manic then She already was. I informed Her that luckily We had a Cancelation for an Afternoon Appointment and I would gladly Pencil Her In. She then damn well Demanded to have Her Dog seen IMMEDIATELY! She Fully Expected Us to Drop whatever We were Doing, and Clear the Vet’s Schedule for the Day to Dedicate 100% of Everyone’s Attention on Her Dog and Her Dog Alone. Moronic Mary Tried Again and Again Futilely to Force Me Somehow giving Her what She wanted. It was just Another Rich Asshole Preaching from the The Billionaire’s Big Book of Bullshit.

Well Finally the Time came for Moronic Mary’s Afternoon Appointment which She was around 20-25 minutes late for. Now I’m going to take a Moment to Vent here so Hold On. You see I don’t fucking Understand how a Pet Owner can be SO Concerned about Their Pet that They Demand to be Seen IMMEDIATELY (in a Non Emergency Situations), and After the Nonsensical Drama They then Show the fuck Up Late. You just want to get in Their fucking Face and and Scream “SERIOUSLY YOU ASSHOLE I THOUGHT YOU WERE SO FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT YOUR PET EARLIER THAT YOU PITCHED A FULL ON FIT, AND NOW YOU STROLE IN HERE LATE LIKE IT’S NO BIG DEAL? FUCK YOU BUDDY.” Talk about being a Self Centered Self Serving Piece of Shit with Absolutely No regard for Anyone Else but Now I will Digress.

I escorted Moronic Mary and Her Dog into an Exam Room and let the Dr. Rick everything was Set. Dr. Rick entered the Exam room Dressed in in a Ugly Cliche Hawaiian Themed Scrub Top (without a Shirt underneath mind You as is the Practice) Worn Jeans, and clunky old brown Work Boots, and Trade Mark Sunglasses. He came in with a Smirk which was an Indicator He wasn’t looking forward to Dealing with this Particular Client, and 10 to 1 He was going to Talk a Little Shit/Malevolently Fuck with Them  to make it worth His While. Also in All Honestly  it was always Extremely Entertaining when He opted to fuck with Difficult or Dumbass Clients making the Whole Ordeal somewhat Tolerable.

I lifted the Dog which by the Way was a King Charles Spaniel which was one of the More Popular Breeds in the Area. I guess Someone/Something has to Keep the Drunken Trophy Wives Company since the Husbands were Workaholics and 99% of Them sure as Hell didn’t have Kids Either. So I do the Whole Restraining or Preemptive Restraining to be More Exact. The Preemptive Restraining is like a Hug where You Place one Arm Under the Dogs Belly in front of the Back Legs like a Seatbelt. Your Other Arm you put Around the Dogs Neck like a Canine Version of a Headlock, and the Reason for this is if the Dog Acts Out be it due to Pain/Discomfort or Aggression You again Act like a Seat Belt and Tighten Your Grip Accordingly (Just in case Anyone was fucking Wondering). Moronic Mary was all Flustered and was acting as if She was on the fucking Brink of a fucking Panic Attack, or in My Personal Opinion She was Acting like a Tweeked Out Meth Addict. Dr. Rich started His Physical Exam where He ran His hands Over the Dog from Head to Tail feeling For Injuries/Pain/Abnormalities/Joint and Spine Issues etc.

After letting Moronic Mary simmer in Her own Insanity for a minute or two Dr. Rich at last asked Her what the Reason was that She had brought Her Dog in. Well being fucking True to Form Moronic Mary starts to Retell the Story She Told Me Only this Version was Longer, More Detailed, More Dramatic than the Previous Telling. The Entire time Moronic Mary is ranting away like a Possessed Woman Dr. Rich just Stood There Examining the Dog with a Shit Eating Grim plastered across His Face. Once Moronic Mary literally ran out of Breath Dr. Rich informed Her that during His Cursory Exam had Not Felt any Abnormal Lumps. He then Asked Moronic Mary to Please Show Him exactly what the fuck She was Talking About.

We then Proceeded t get the Dog to Lay Down on its Side so Dr. Rich could Checkout these Mysteriously Non Present Lumps when Moronic Mary located Them to Show Him. This is when the STUPID SHIT HIT THE FUCKING FAN. Moronic Mary proceeded to Show Dr. Rich the Unknown Lumps which in Reality were the Dog’s Nipples, BUT That’s Not All! Dr. Rich with a look of Disbelief informs Moronic Mary that the Lumps She was concerned with are in fact just regular old Nipples. What Moronic Mary Said Next I will remember to the fucking Day I Die “But…He’s a Boy Dog???” at which Point Dr. Rich looking a little Unsure of How to Handle Someone so Painfully Ignorant. Lucky for Him Dr. Rich was Quick on His Feet and Calmly and as Politely as Possible all things Considered that Yes Her Boy Dog has Nipples just like Her Husband is a Boy and He Too has Nipples.

So in Summation an Adult Woman felt Lumps on Her Dog’s Belly, Freaked Out, Called The Vet in a Panic, Acts Demanding and Belligerent. She then precedes to Show the fuck Up around 20-25 Minutes Late Only to Diagnosis Her Boy Dog with Nipples. This Dumbfounded the Moronic Client Who for some fucking reason Though Men of the 2 or 4 Legged Didn’t have Nipples since They Don’t Nurse Babies. Then a Highly Educated Veterinarian had o Explain the whole fucking “Men have Nipples Too” impromptu Anatomy Lesson pertaining to Humans and Animals. Now after Reading this when I say the VAST MAJORITY of People Today are fucking Fucktarded Idiots I dare Someone to Argue with Me (Only Partially Joking).

It is What it Is,

  By les Sober

How Is That Dog Not Dead?!

Back when I was a Kid about once a Year or So My Family would load up in the Car and Head to Maine for a Week Long Get a Way. My Parents would rent a House along with Their Friends The Higgins (who had Two Kids yet They were Much Older than Me so They weren’t around A lot), and We would all meet up at the Rental House on the designated Date of Arrival. We wouldn’t do any type of Touristy Cliche Family Oriented bullshit We just enjoyed Nature and Each others Company. It was a Simpler Time for Sure.

This was back in the Day before Dog Boarding became a Trend so My Family would take Our Golden Retriever Tasha along for the Trip with Us. The only issue with having the Tasha with Us on these Trips was She suffered from Extreme Separation Anxiety. Again this was back when People didn’t know what Separation Anxiety even was and, People were Baffled to why They’re Dog’s were being so Neurotic and Destructive. The problem at hand caused Tasha to flip the fuck out when We left the House without Her and She’d bolt around the House knocking over furniture, Breaking Shit, and Chewing the Front Door Frame like a Starving Piranha.

           

Thats wasn’t all it didn’t end with just the Typical Separation Anxiety Behavior like I said earlier Tasha was afflicted with a Extreme Case of Separation Anxiety which caused Her insane Behavior to Escalate beyond belief. Once Tasha had gotten Her self completely Frantic She would actually JUMP THROUGH A WINDOW like some sort of Action Movie. Thus during one of Our later Trips to Maine My Parents and Their Friends went around the Entire House Barricading the Windows like something out of a fucking Zombie Movie. They Blocked Windows with Bookcases and Over Turned Tables among other things until the House felt more like fucking Fort Knox. Satisfied the Dog and House were Safe and Secure We all went out for Dinner at a Local Restaurant without a second thought.

After having Stuffed Ourselves on Lobster and Other types of Maine’s wonderfully Fresh Seafood We headed directly back to the Rental House. When We arrived My Parents were thrilled to see the House hadn’t been Trashed (just minority discombobulated), and there was No Sign of Damage to the Door due to Frenzied Chewing. Everyone was so elated by the fact the House and all its windows were in Tact No One Noticed that Tasha who normally would bum rush Us upon Our return was No Where to be Found. Slowly the Our Group spread Out to investigate, and as the search continued there still was not a single sign of the Dog. My Father then speculated that Tasha being unable to escape by jumping through a fucking Window as Per Usual had retreated Upstairs to hide under a Bed or in a Closet instead.

         

My Father promptly went up stairs to see if His Hypothesis was indeed correct, but the Dog still remained Illusive as Ever. In a matter of no time at all Everyone was upstairs searching under beds, in Closets, under/in piles of discarded Clothes, Bath Tube, and anywhere They could think of that the Dog possibly could be. Again the Search turned up nothing at all and now Everyone felt as if They were losing Their fucking Minds. Everyone split up after the Upstairs Search Party to continue to Search for the Missing Dog. It wasn’t soon before everyone was strolling around the House utterly Befuddled by it all. Everyone of Us ended up pacing around asking questions out loud like “Did We Lock the Back Door?”, “Where could Tasha Be?”, “Where did the Dog disappear to?”, “This doesn’t make sense!” and other such questions.

We were so Confused We unofficially ended Our Search to stand around to staring at one another in a Haze Dumbfounded as Fuck. Now Unfortunately it was son many Moons ago I don’t remember exactly Who Discovered what had Happened to the Mysteriously Missing Canine. All I remember is some one Shouting that they had found out what Happened so the rest of Us once again ran up stairs to see what was going on. The second story of the House had a pretty Basic You went up a stare case and once at the top of the Stairs if You looked directly in front of You there was a Long Narrow Hallway with a Natural Wood Floor that reminded Me of looking down a Bowling Ally Lane. On each side of the Hallway there were Two Bedrooms, and if You looked behind You when You were standing in said Hallway You’d see the Bathroom at one End and a Single Window at the Other.

       

When We all clamored upstairs We were informed that the Dog Tasha had in fact Jumped out of the SECOND STORY Hallway Window. We all instantly looked in the Direction of the Window, and it was indeed Broken like a motherfucker. To make things even more Grim below the Hallway Window was the Front Door where the Owner had installed a rather Large Cement Slab to serve as a Rudimentary Porch/Sitting Area. At that point We had to come to grips with the Sad Fact that Tasha had Jumped out of the Second Story Window (with No Way of Clearing the Cement Slab), and Limped or Crawled Off into the Woods to Die as Dogs are apt to do. The rest of the Night We all sat around forlorn as fuck, and in total disbelief at the situation We had returned to after a Nice Dinner Out. Finally We all concluded it was a freak accident, We were all upset by the series of Events that occurred, and that tomorrow would be a New Day and so We went to Sleep.

My Father had a Life Long Habit of waking up Before the Crack of Dawn Typically around 4:30am while the Rest of Us continued to Slumber for Several more Hours. Once My Father had made His mandatory Cup of Coffee He went to retrieve the Morning Paper, and when He opened the Door the Dog was Sitting there waiting. Not only was Tasha Alive and waiting for My Father to get the Paper She didn’t have a single scratch, Bruise, Not even a Limp after Jumping out the Second Story Window onto a Concrete fucking Slab. When the Rest of Us arose at Last We were treated to this splendid tale of Tasha’s miraculous (and equally unreal) Return.

          

Tasha lived out the Rest of Her life without issue and passed at the Ripe Old Age of 14, and until the Day I Die I will never forget Tasha the Luckiest Dog to have Lived in My mind. A Few Years after this volatile vacation We had phased out Our Periodic Trips to Maine but not due to this Incident. It was more than likely due to My Parents Dear Friend Don (who had Moved to Maine with His Wife after He retired from Teaching), and previous Colleeg Pasted of Natural Causes aka Old Age. Thus Maine has a Special place in My Fondest Memories because Alls Well That Ends Well as They Say.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

The Backyard Beasts Big Break

It was just one of those mundane and utterly uneventful night a few days back that was until 4:07am. And then all fucking Hell broke loose. My Wife had passed out in her favorite Lazy Boy Recliner around midnight or so, and I dozed off around a little before 3 am.

The Backyard Beasts had been more vocal than usual that evening which now that I think about it was some serious foreshadowing. It was the wailing, Whining, loud, and virtual nonstop barking of the Backyard Beasts that woke my very unamused Wife who then yelled about being woke up due to the son of a bitch beasts. This in turn immediately woke me up and I glanced at the clock which read 4:07 am.

My Wife was shuffling like mad around looking for a flashlight and her shoes. My shoes where near by under the coffee table so I snatched them up, put them on, turned off the alarm system, found my keys, unlocked the door, and bounded out to the front porch.

I start scanning the yard squinting like a motherfucker because we don’t have street lights being so far out in the woods. I cursed out loud for not getting a hold of a flashlight myself as I stared into the night. The I saw it. It was big solid black silhouette standing at the edge of the yard between two trees. The only reason I could see that much was thank to the aid of our neighbors rather promenade out door lights. Their lights backlit the street just enough to see the contrast between the black of night and the black of the beasts.

I yelled to my Wife that there was another Beast out here and that was exciting ours evidently though I was completely wrong. This is not uncommon here in the Woods where people let there dogs roam like free range chickens out and about at all hours doing whatever they please.

I then had a odd feeling and then it clicked. This wasn’t a neighbor’s Beast, it was one of ours, the Brother Beast. I ran down into the yard words the Beast shouting his name, and He came right over. I took hold of his collar with an steely grip of a fucking Bear trap.

My Wife had ran directly to the back gate (instead of entering from the house where the Beasts are forbidden to go) and opened it to go see what she could find the fuck out. In opening the back gate she inadvertently let out the 2nd of our pair of Beasts (their a Brother-Sister Team who are the absolutely inseparable. The Girl won’t follow her Brother so she stayed put in the yard and lamented loudly pleading with her Brother to come the fuck back already.)  The Girl then decided to go rejoin her Brother and tore off like a fucking rocket into the dead of night.

My Wife ran passed me to corral the Sister Beast as I passed her with the Brother Beast in tow. I put the Boy Beast back into the confines of the backyard, and went to help my Wife. All of a sudden I hear her proclaim allowed that she has BOTH Beasts now. I holler back that I’m going to get some leashes to tie up the Beasts while I go inspect the backyard to see where the Beast escaped from.

I searched relentlessly checking the fence, the yard, and looked for any clues such as did he go under or over the Fence? Was the back gate to the yard eft unlocked? That kind of shit. Well after inspecting the backyard I was stumped. So I did the only thing I could and that was to take the gamble. The gamble being that if I had my Wife return the Beasts to the backyard that instead of waiting for me to leave and then escaping again, but rather the Boy would be stupid enough to just go for it right in front of me. Luckily it was the latter.

The dumb bastard trotted around to the opposing side of the house, walked over to the far side of the Air Conditioner, crouched down to the ground by the section of the fence that meets the Home Office, and started to crawl under it like some solider at boot camp running a obstacle course. I hurried over, bent down, and grabbed the Beast at the base of his large tail. As I retrieved the Boy Beast from out under the fence I informed my Wife I found his way out.

I then set to work fixing the issue the best I could with what I had available at 4 fucking AM. First I used some small fence stakes to secure the bottom of the fence like doctor Frankenstein stitching up his Monster. I the placed to long and rather weighty spare wooden beams at the base to help block the dig site/zone. My Wife and I went inside to catch our breath. Then the Mournful Howling started up again. I ran out front and again spotted our Boy bouncing around gleefully in the front yard without a care in the world. I managed once again to catch hold of his collar and wrangled him back into the backyard.

I immediately went to inspect the escape site and saw he had maneuvered the beams out of the way and tore up/out damn near every fence stake. So this time we decided it be best to just section off that small 5 foot long and 3 foot wide area until morning (when I could go to Home Depot and load up on cinder blocks to line the bottom of the fence with. Dig under that you big bitch is the motto) We had a massive and heavy piece of Ply Wood left over from the construction of my Art Studio I had held onto. This was perfect for the job of blockade. It was Long enough to block the space,  tall enough neither Beast could jump or climb over or under it, and it was pretty damn heavy.

My Wife and I were on the porch winding down off our adrenaline fueled frustration when we heard deliberate scratching of claws against wood. We both ran out back again and saw that the leaning Ply Wood wasn’t going to cut it by itself as the Boy Beast was creeping through the space behind it. I went and got the previously used beams and wedged them up against the Ply Wood, but we still need more. I found some old, solid wood barn type doors left over from the previous owner and I knew they had some serious weight to them so I leaned both of them up against the ply Wood, andante again my Wife and I retired to the House.

Yet again We heard the Boy Beast testing the viability of the Ply Wood wall and for what seemed like the 5,000th time went to go evaluate the escape situation. We came to the conclusion the Ply Wood needed yet MORE securing so I went and fetched some of the mock rout iron gates that came in sections down at the Home Depot’s gardening center. I used the pieces of gate the pin the Ply Wood to the Air Conditioner, and it held fast.

Finally my Wife and I got a few more hours of sleep before waking for work. My Wife went off to work as per usual, and I fired up my Lap Top. Then after about an hour or two I heard the Girl Beast’s cry of desperation. I ran to a back window and peered out only to see that fucking son of a bitch Boy Beast standing on the dirt road behind our home office happier than a Prize Pig in shit. I went out and pretended I was giving his Sister a treat (I always give the Beasts a treat before heading out anywhere.), and just like a sucker at a used car dealer he bought it.

I then called my Wife in a foul fit of anger (and exasperation) and told her what happened, and that outside of killing them or myself had come to the end of my rope. She instructed me to house the Beasts on the front porch until she got off work. She said right after she got off she’d head over to Home Depot and pick up the cinderblocks.

I followed her lead and stashed the Beasts on the front porch for the day. I couldn’t help it though I had to see how the hell the Boy had pulled off yet another escape. I was truly surprised at what I found. The Ply Wall was perfectly still intact. After further inspection I realized the Boy Beast I climbed up and over the Air Conditioner Unit to circumvent the Ply Wood, and then simple jumped down the other side into the separated section to dig under the fence.

That evening my Wife returned home with the cinderblocks, and I went about building a Fence Bottom Cinderblock Barrier. Before I laid the cinder blocks down I used a couple sections of the mock fence as anchors. I simply slid the legs of the section of mock fence between sections of the chain link thus pinning it to the ground. The Boy Beast did try and escape again to no vail, but not due to a lack of trying. All I had to due to secure that bottom section of the fence was to tweak the cinderblock’s formation. And all is quite on the Western Front as some would be apt to say.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Our Animal Farm

I’m definitely what people would call an Animal Lover, and yes the cliche is true I love Animals and Despise People. I started to think about all the different pets I have had the pleasure of sharing my chaotic life with over the years, and for prosperity (Mine) decided to do what I do and make a list. I decided to use a timeline format to help grouping and increase clarity. First is the species followed by the pets name.

Growing Up Age: 3 Days Old to 18

A Golden Retriever: Tasha (My Dad’s 1st Dog)

DSH Cat: Little Bit (My Mom’s Cat)

Lhasa Apso: Chuzzle (Suffered chronic ear infections that led to an aggressive and undesirable behavioral problems, but we stuck by him just the same until his natural demise.)

Age 19 years old to 27 years old:

Maincoon Mix: Al (Alize) (was a 5 week old kitten rescued from a dumpster and deflated by hand by a neighbor of mine)

PitBull: VooDoo (Was the last puppy of a litter my co-worker was selling, but her landlord found out and demanded she rid the residence of all Puppies)

Lhasa Apso Mix: Jimbo (I became Jimbo’s Owner abandoned him at the kennel I was working at.)

Iguana: Tribe (A rescue, his previous owner was some kid who ended up going to collage and stuck the unwilling parents with the Iguana)

Bearded Dragon: Drivil (was re-homed to me again due to the fact the child wanted it and the parents ended up taking care of it though they obviously didn’t want to>)

 

Ages 27 years old to Current Age:

Iguana: Gizmo (was captured in the wild by a co-worker who asked me to iguana sit and then ditched him with me)

Pug/Boston Terrier Mix: Rascal (Adopted from Animal Shelter)

Maine Coon (cat): Big Kitty (Was a rescue from an Animal Shelter)

African Chameleon: Not Sure if he/she came with a name. (It was a re-homing as the previous owner bought it as an impulse buy and had decided perhaps that wasn’t the best idea he had ever had.)

Blue Tongue Skink (Lizard): Hook (Hook got his name due to a previous owners neglect that led Hook to self cannibalize, he ate all 4 of his legs, which over the following years became to regenerate. He was re-homed because his owner was suffered a severe head injury while serving in the Military)

Rat: Snafoo (Snafoo spelled this way is short for Snake Food which is what it was intended to be yet the snake gave it a get out of jail card if you will.)

Adabeece: Colombian Rainbow Boa Constrictor (Re-Homed because the owner had to move back home and her parents wouldn’t allow the snake sanctuary)

Monty: Ball Python (Again Re-Homed to me when I worked in a Veterinarians Office because the owner couldn’t treat the snakes chronic dry skin issue. Monty had made a full and significant recovery and if currently fat and happy.)

Love Birds (2): Frick and Frack (I received the love birds from an owner who had accumulated too many to handle appropriately.)

Mollies (fish): Too Many Too Name Individually (Were given to me when a friend of mines shitty girlfriend made him get rid of them.)

Ferrets: Judas (found wondering the streets by a dumpster by some kid who brought him into the Vet’s office I was working at.)

Kabuki: My Wife Bought Him for Me and to give Judas a playmate.

Frankenstien: Came from a co-worker at the Vets office My wife worked at

BooBoo: Re-homed by a friend/co-worker at the Vet office my wife worked in.

Scarlet: Re-homed when her companion died.

English Bulldog:Bubba (We got Bubba when his owner decided he didn’t give a flying fuck about the Dog because he was old and had old man issues, and the Vet I worked for took custody of Bubba from the owner to prevent further neglect, and I ended up bring him home the end.)

DSH Cat: Inky (Was my Wife’s Cat, a package deal who was a stray from the mean streets of NJ)

DSH Cat: Bradshaw (we ended up re-homing Bradshaw to a dear friend because he and Inky actually tried to kill one another, proof animals are capable of hate.)

Hermit Crabs: Various Absurd Names like “The Monster Clint”(I got obsessed with hermit crabs and had a 300 gallon tank that was empty so I decided to convert it into a Hermit Crab “City”)

2 Snapping Turtles: Mrs. Snaps and Mr. Chomps (I ended up rehoming the turtles to a neighborhood acquaintance who had vast experience and love working with wild animals. Last I heard she was feeding them raw Chicken.)

French Bulldog: Dozy (was re-homed to us by a breeder and dogs how pro who decided that she wanted to back to breeding and showing Boxers so she retired all her French Bulldogs, Dozy was a prolific champion who I heard many other dog show people were happy to see go.)

English BullDog: Wally (Re-homed to us when his owner realized he was working more and more which left less and less time for Wally who was stuck in his crate too much for too long.)

DLH Cat: KiKi (Was re-homed to use by an owner who could no longer keep her)

DSH Cat: Mouse (We got Mouse when a dear friend died, Mouse had both her eyes removed at 6 weeks of age due to brutal ulcers that were destroying her eyes.)

DSH Cat: Scooter (Belonged to the same dear friend, BUT was snuck into our house while we were away by our friend. Scooter spent the first part of his life with us holed up in a bedroom closet. He since has broken out of his shell to the point I wish sometimes I could put him back in.)

Miniature Dachshund: Lolly (Lolly came to us from a breeder, see Lolly is white which is synonymous with birth defects. Lolly is completely Deaf and 1/2 blind, but the happiest little fucker I have ever seen.)

DSH Cat: Schmoo (Named for the constant meow meets scream that she made as a kitten. My wife found Schmoo crying under a bush outside our house while hanging Christmas Lights.)

2 Lab/Rottweiler Mixes: Dingus (Gus for Short) and Nymh (Dingus and Nymh are brother and sister puppies we found sitting on the side of a dirt road notorious for illegal Dog Dumping. After we drove past them my Wife called my attention to the review mirror where I saw the Pups chasing after our car for all it was worth.)

 

Thats That for now until another Misfit falls into our laps.

Thanks for the Read as Always,

Les Sober

 

Canine Carnage: Looks Can Be Deceiving

About 12 years ago I was working as a Veterinary Technician (Vet Tech for short) at Eccentric Animal Hospital run by Dr. Eccentric. It was business as usual as Dr. E saw routine morning appointments. The 11:30 appointment was for a dog who had been excessively dragging its ass across the owners pricy carpet and was increasing obsessed with it’s butt. When the dog showed up for its appointment it turned out to be a very friendly and affectionate ( I’m talking Disney cartoon level cute till you puke here) 5 year old,67 pound male Golden Retriever named Tucker who was not neutered. Tucker’s owner was a rather pleasant middle aged woman named Ditsy who was a bit mentally out to lunch.

I escorted Mrs. Ditsy along with Tucker into one of the exam room where Ditsy filled out the new client paperwork, and I took Tucker to get weighed. Now the layout of the exam room is key. There was the first door leading from the waiting room into the exam rom, and a second located at the back that lead to the Lab, Surgical prep, Xray,Surgery room etc. The room’s measurements are approximately 8 feet long and 5 feet wide I know that sounds more like prison cell then an exam room, but checkout your veterinarian’s exam rooms for comparison purposes. The middle of the room had a 3 1/2 foot examination table protruding from wall that was around 4 feet in height. This made a for very close quarters when with a dog that size the owners’s sitting on the exam room bench, and the Doctor,dog, and I are on the small floor space in front of the owner (to say wiggle room was scarce would be a humungous understatement.)

After a basic once over Dr.E stated his primary diagnosis was a impacted anal gland. For those who aren’t in the know when it comes to anal glands they are 2 glands located just inside a dog’s rectum. The anal glands express the most foully vile smelling fluid (like the farts of SATAN)  If you have ever had the displeasure of not only smelling, but never forgetting that pungent oder you know what I mean. The reason for this is when your dog takes a crap and the feces is excreted past the anal glands it causes them to express( the putrid smelling) fluid that serves as a personal calling card. Now if the anal glands are impacted they can’t express the anal gland fluid which then build up like water behind a dam. If untreated the anal gland becomes extremely infected and will then rupture like a giant shit filled blister. In Tucker’s case it was so early in the game that if it was a impacted anal gland was the problem then it could be solved right away by manually expressing the blocked gland. Granted this is not a the most pleasant of problems to solve, and to the animal it feels like the equivalent of your Proctologist trying to pop a pimple inside your butt during a prostate exam if you will.

So with that said Dr.E and I got ready do to the deed. Dr.E put proceeded to put on the classic latex gloves, grabbed the tube of lube (because animals don’t need to be treated by animals.) and a couple sheets of paper towel to catch the expressed anal gland fluid. Tucker was facing towards the wall with his rear facing the exam table directly behind him so I squatted down on the balls of my feet and placed my left arm around his neck and my right arm around his waist to properly restraint him. I’m well aware that this restraint technique looks like a combo of a wrestling move and an MMA choke out hold, but I assure you it all serves a purpose. If you control the head you control the body and to help control the body you have one arm secured around the animals waist. As soon as Dr. E took a knee behind Tucker I felt Tucker tense up and then become absolutely rigged as if he was flexing ever muscle in his body simultaneously. I knew things were getting off to a potential dangerous start then Dr. E touched Tucker’s rectum, and Tucker royally up and lost his shit as fast as a starter’s pistol and the clash of carnage was on. I knew I couldn’t escape out the 1st door into the waiting room because it was behind me, and even if I did reach it I’d have to open and close it allowing more time to get injured. When I knew I couldn’t restrain Tucker any longer I announced that I had to let go, waited for Dr.E to back off to safety, eyed the owner and let go. At this point Tucker was growling loudly and aggressively while showing his teeth all which means a high risk of attack.

As I was releasing my hold on Tucker I shifted my weight so I had a strait shot out the 2nd door into the Lab/Surgical area, and not only that the 2nd door was a sliding pocket door which as even open at the time. Now as I started to stand up Tucker swung his head wildly to his left in a violent U-turn type motion just in time to severely bite at my left ear. Now I say “Bite at” because Tucker didn’t move quite as fast as me he couldn’t bite down directly on my ear. What did happen was his Canines caught my outter ear. TO CLARIFY what you think is your ear is actually called THE AURICLE and the VESTIBULE (depressed part of you outer ear directly outside the ear canal. As Tucker was closing his mouth his aforementioned canines (upper and lower) tore the top of my inner and ripped it down so it looked like a theater curtain that had fallen to expose the bare cartilage wall behind it. Once I was upright I strode out the 2nd door slamming it behind me. I remember just standing there while stating in a raised voice just under a yell “My fucking ear, he bit my fucking ear now I’m bleeding all over myself.” As you can imagine my heart was POUNDING as the adrenaline surged through my veins like 100,000 volts of electricity being that head wound in general bleed like a son of a bitch my ear was no exception. I could hear the owner Mrs. Ditsy asking repeatedly if I was alright and was extremely concerned I’l give her that, but I was aggravated as all get out and tuned her out.

Well the receptionist got a photocopy of her driver’s license before Mrs. Ditsy took Tucker home. Since that had been the last appointment of the morning there was time to figure out what the hell to do next.  I hate hospital’s and I hate emergency rooms even more as I think they both are essentially EXPLOIT PATIENTS FOR PROFIT institutions. So in spite of having rather good health insurance I wasn’t going to an ER hell or high water. Dr.E volunteered his services as he could do exactly the same thing the ER would do, but Dr. E would do it absolutely free where its a $900 ER bill for literally walking in the door (which automatically starts your bill at $900. ) I agreed and Dr.E numbed up my ear with Lidocaine and simply stitched my ear back into one singular piece. I then called my mother because it occurred to me I hadn’t a clue when I had my last Tetanus shot, and good thing I called because it turned out my last Tetanus shot was 10 years in the past so I went with my Wife to the local MD Now walk in medical clinic and told them I had been bitten by a dog while at work, and I would thus be needing a well over due Tetanus shot. I noticed that after the informing them I was first and foremost bitten on the ear by a dog (I  explained I worked as a Vet Tech and it was an owned animal code for rabies shot is current) the front desk personel where staring intently at my ear until realizing I wasn’t bleeding because I had stitches in my ear. So of course out of curiosity and a bit of concern they repeatedly and excessively asked who in fact had stitched up my ear for me. I was aware that in Canada if a Veterinarian works on a human they lose their vet license, are heavily fined and possibly could face some jail time. If I’m anything I’m insanely loyal (I say insane because even loyalty can be too much of a good thing if shit gets out of hand) I finally answered them and all I said was “a friend” helped me out. Several other staff members asked me the same question over and over again (sometimes they would just reword the question before asking it for the thousandth time) and all I would say every single time without fail was a friend helped me out and stitched me up.

NOTE TO READER: If your thinking how in a (fully staffed )professional medical clinic no one there could piece it together? I told them I got bitten at work. I also told them I’m a veterinary technician.  I told them I work for a Veterinarian in his Animal Hospital. Yet NO ONE could figure out the blatantly obvious that the Veterinarian was the one who did the stitched me up. CONGRATULATIONS YOUR NOT INSANE. Its just the god’s honest truth, no one there could put it all together. Its like the most fucked up game of Clue ever.