A Cut Blog Has No Pups

I’m frightened. My puppy gets his lively hood  whacked off in two days. I don’t know how to tell him that soon he will be heading to the Vet to get gassed and wake up with missing body parts and he will blame me for all this.

I vacillate on this subject daily on whether its the right thing to do or not. One EDO tells me it is necessary:”dogs need to be neutered, the only reason they are not is for breeding purposes only”.What if we treated humans with that theory? It might be an answer to the population problem.

I have been given pre-operative instructions for this procedure for my puppy:

1) no food or water after midnight,

2) drop off is between 8-8:30am with pick up at 4 & 6p.m. and,

 3) bring his rabies certificate.

Why the rabies certificate, are they afraid that when he wakes up from the anesthetic he’ll instinctively go to lick his balls and find them absent and go rabid on the staff?  I would.

I am having difficulty with this decision to pursue this procedure. I have listened to the pros and cons and they come out evenly and all I have left to make the final cut is to flip a coin. Heads he stays intact, and well ,tails.. he…er….wags less??

 I guess what really has me concern is rather selfish in nature, I am more concerned about how my dog is going to react to me after all is well and done. Is he going to greet me in the morning with those big puppy eyes staring at me in wonderment as to where his marbles went, and hopefully think we are amidst a game of hide and seek?

Or Is he going to turn on me and hate me for removing his man hood without his permission. Will he sink into a deep post sedation depression and never fetch another ball for me because the reminder is too traumatic?

I did not experience any aberrant behavior when my reproductive organs were removed. I may  have smirked a little at the intolerable complaints from my daughter about her monthly cramps. I could have expounded on the eleven hours of labor I endured before she emerged onto the family scene, but pay back’s a bitch.

I took my puppy to the  IN-humane society and pulled him over to the check in desk where he instinctively decided to take a monstrous poop on the linoleum. After the swat team came to clean it up the receptionist(?) aka Vet Tech,jumped out from behind the counter with a small hypo containing Chaniel Sedation and administered it into his chi-hua-hua hiney  with the artistry of a Ninja.

This medication had absolutely no effect on my puppy, he has the metabolism of a hummingbird.  Because of Charly’s incessant barking the Vet decided to take him before the other five Cats that have been waiting for hours. I was Grateful.

The receptionist /Tech came from behind and opened a large grey door with the paint peeling off the front and ushered us through the hallways of trapped animals. I was half expecting an operating room scenario with the aseptic arena of Grey’s Anatomy featuring Dr. McSteamy, but I was guided through a laundry room with a back exit to a small RV parked in the lot. I Had a very big notion to grab my dog like a foot ball and plow through the place mowing down non English speaking service attendants, while throwing the keys to my daughter and yelling “start the engine”. But in that moment of imagination my dog was already limp in my arms with a grin as wide as Montana. I left him there amongst the old coffee cup in the drivers seat and an unfinished Tasty Cake on the console.

Sometimes  you just have to close the trailer latch behind you and not look back at the over stuffed garbage can leaning against the aluminum siding. Sometimes some things are just out of your hands and you have to trust who ever or whatever is thrust upon you in a back alley parking lot.

Or sometimes you have to just get in your car and wait  nine hours right outside their entrance.

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