Okay, I realize this is not on the level of importance of erupting volcanoes, but here's what happened today. I wanted to take Chewbacca to the vet to have it checked out and vaccinated so I could take it to the K9 beauty salon to have it cut and blow dried. But the vet, of course, didn't want to do anything to it, because, technically, it's not my dog. In fact, the state of Washington says you don't really own a stray until you've had it for 30 days. Well, I wasn't going to house the mongrel for 30 days in its current condition. The vet recommended that I take it to the shelter, where they'll vaccinate it, neuter it, etc. and THEN I can take it home if I pass the 6 month adoption home study and have 3 character references. So I took it to the shelter.
As soon as we stepped into the reception area, Chewie began to mark his territory. I, being the ignorant non-dog person that I am, didn't realize that this was a sure sign that he wasn't neutered. So the friendly young girl came around from behind the desk and asked me if Chewie was neutered. I confidently replied, "Huh?" She looked for herself, verified that he was all there, and assured me that when they neuter him, he'll be much more civilized.
Now the shelter only holds strays for three days before they deem an animal free to be adopted. (I'm not sure how they skirt the 30 day state law...) So we only have to wait until Friday before we can sign up to keep him. But that's not the only problem. The friendly young girl also looked at Chewbacca's teeth and winced after she saw (and smelled) them. She looked like she was about to tell me that he was going to need dentures. "If he only needs a few simple extractions, we can do this, but if he needs root canals, that's beyond our expertise," she said. And beyond our wallet, I thought.
I never remember our dogs being this complicated when I was growing up. Dog root canals?? What's next, invisalign and veneers? How did picking up a stray to return it to its owner on Friday morph into canine oral surgery on Tuesday?
