I have to go to the vet this morning. Well, it’s actually my dog that has to go, but he needs a ride. Fortunately, it isn’t because he’s sick or injured – mostly he just needs his rabies shot before his doggy license expires a week from today. And while we’re at it, he’ll be getting him Lyme vaccine booster. I’m ordinarily not one for all this vaccination stuff, but given the vast number of these goddamn ticks we have around here and the fact that all three of the varmints have tested positive (despite the money I shell out for Frontline Plus® and my diligent tick inspections), I decided to go for the Lyme vaccine last year. The first year’s a pain, too, because you have to get a booster a couple months after the initial vaccine.

Two of the dogs I can take by myself, but today it’s Bud’s turn, and there’s no way to trust Bud to stay put in the car and not climb all over (and into my lap – and it’s tough to drive with a 85 pound dog in your lap). So today my wife gets to go along for the ride (I’ll even let her stick her head out the window if she wants).

The first obstacle will of course be trying to separate him from the pack. No matter how much I tell the other two that they really don’t wanna go where Bud’s going (a month ago, I took Peggy and she cried the whole way there and the whole way back – and half the time we were there), they’re going to insist on coming along. So that’s always a struggle.

Then there’s the mysterious aversion to the scale when they try to weigh him. I really don’t understand the problem, but the one place in all universe they don’t wanna stand is on that damn scale. I don’t know if they think it’s a giant hole in the floor or what. I should probably try telling them, “look, you’re not allowed on that scale so don’t even think about it!” Invariably, I’ll have to pick him up and put him on there – and I’m starting to get a little to old for that.

After that, it’s usually smooth sailing. Last month, they didn’t even take Peggy’s temperature, which I was happy about (not as happy as she probably was). Siggy used to absolutely hate that – to the point where I advised the vet we went to at the time that “he really doesn’t like that.” Since Siggy was a pretty big boy with pretty big teeth, the vet said “OK, we won’t do that then.”

Wise decision.

I really used to hate taking the dogs to the vet, and I’m still not that crazy about it. But since I’ve gone to a doctor a couple of times now, I have a lot less sympathy. At least they don’t have to spend a sleepless night just thinking about it the way I do. Plus there are enough critters out here in the sticks (found Peggy playing with a nice juicy dead skunk not that long ago) that makes getting the rabies shot seem pretty worthwhile (not to mention the rabid raccoon story I heard on Snap Judgement a while back that scared the shit out of me).

After we get this whole vet thing over with, I’ll have to see if I’m up for brewing a batch of beer. I’d prefer to get an earlier start on it, so I might defer that until tomorrow – though that means I’d have to do the Costco thing today – and I really hate getting there much after opening time, because there’s just too goddamn many people out there.

And, statistically speaking, a lot of them are gonna be voting for Trump.