Robbie is the only critter we have who came with us when we moved from Plano. He's over nine years old and wrestles with a few harmless neuroses. But he's our faithful house dog, and we love his low-rider, wide-body self. Looking in his eyes, I'm only just beginning to see his age creeping up on him.
For the past couple of years, he's kept his head down and helped me forget that he needed to go visit Dr. Abraham for his usual pokes and prods and sprays up the nose. But today, his luck ran out. He had to skip breakfast and hop in the car. He immediately shed three seasons of fur on the front seat of my car, anticipating some heinous trauma ahead. I was ready for that, and had put down a sheet to protect my upholstery.
We got to visit the new offices today after the practice spent about a year remodeling after a fire. It's all fancy now, let me tell you. I felt under dressed. But Deb greeted us as usual, and showed only mild surprise when I handed her three zip lock bags of poo for fecal testing. (I'm known as the Poo Lady with Deb, because very few other people bring her Beans in a Bag. Hey, why waste a trip? It was time to check on the parasite loads in the sheep and alpacas.)
Only a couple of other patients waited with us in the lobby... cute pups and one really gorgeous, vocal kitty.
The kitty was headed for spaying, but I'm not sure what the puppies were in for. They didn't look nearly as nervous as our Rob. He drooled a small lake on the shiny tile floor while the minutes ticked past.
Finally the vet techs called us into an exam room, and Dr. Abraham gave Robbie a thorough going-over. Aside from some slightly grungy teeth, Robbie came through with flying colors. Not bad for an old man with a bit of middle-age spread. There are four other dogs here at the farm who also need one kind of attention or another, so Robbie's dental visit will have to wait just a little while. As Dr. Abraham profoundly observed, he's not getting any younger.
And neither, Dr. Abraham, are we. Just sayin...