Dog Days

Yes, I am a post-grad living at home, which I like to tell myself is normal considering the abysmal job market and large number of my peers under the same circumstances.  However, as is customary for post-grads living with their parents, I am often called upon to do chores around the house, which really makes me connect with my inner eighth grade self.

The chores though, have substantially increased in their intensity since my middle school days, where taking the trash out seemed as treacherous as climbing Everest.  Now I have a car, so the opportunities are endless...

Last week, my mother asked me to take our yellow lab, Murphy, to the animal welfare center to get a rabies shot.  He did not contract rabies, rather the outing served as a preventative measure.  Now, let me just give some background about Murph; he is an enormous, high energy pooch, who becomes so excited when you say his name that he starts wagging his tail so vigorously, it hits the walls and starts bleeding.  Before long, the kitchen looks like a crime scene from all the blood splatters.  It really is charming.  If not for a special metallic collar, he would be one of those dogs who "walks his owners" when out for a walk because he is so strong.

So, I strapped on his leash, sans his usual collar, because I did not want the overly-empathetic animal welfare people to think I was a cruel owner who uses the "metal collar" (which does not cause any harm whatsoever, but you never know what these people will think).  He hopped in the car, and before long, we were off.

Murph and I arrived at the location and pulled into the parking lot, which thanks to mother nature, was one large sheet of pure ice.  I managed to drive into a nearby spot and park.  I let Murphy out of the back seat to head to the front door, but because the entire parking lot was so slippery, HE took ME to the front door.  I held onto his leash with both hands and he literally pulled me to the building.  It was like I was water-skiing across the carpark.

We entered the 10x10 lobby and there was an audible gasp from the 10 or so customers already waiting.  Then I heard someone exclaim, "He's ennormous!"  I smiled weakly and checked in with the lady at the front desk.  She handed me a clipboard and told me to fill it out.  So picture this: there are zero empty seats in the waiting room, and Murphy wants to sniff every puny chiauhua and poodle in the place, so he's pulling his hardest on the leash while I have it tied around my wrist, trying to write on the clipboard.  It was a real comedy of errors.  Then a large, kindly man with a dog resembling a squirrel offered to hold Murphy while I filled out his charts.  Sure the man was big, but having such a miniscule puppy, I was convinced he would be unfit to handle a kanine of Murphy's size.  I hesitated at first, then forefitted the reins because I knew it was going to be impossible to control my dog and write at the same time.

Eventually, everyone's number in the place was called except for mine, natuarally, and I discovered during the hour I had to wait that Murphy has a variety of 8 different barks I never knew about.  There was a high pitched cry, a squeal, a booming "WOOF", a howl, some type of low gurgling sound...it was great.  Some woman even asked me if my pooch was going to be alright.  I told her he was just a big baby.

Finally, our number was called and I was led into a tiny room with a small desk and a scale.  There were two women behind the desk and I wanted to beg them to inject him with some type of relaxant for the ride home.  No sooner did I say hello, did Murphy rush over to the scale, lift his leg, and release a steady stream of banana-yellow urine onto it.  Apparently his pee weighed 1.4 pounds.  I looked over at the girls, to see if they had noticed his little stunt (because if they didn't, I contemplated keeping it a secret), and they had, so I just apologized.

A woman came out to give Murphy his shot, and two seconds later, we were free to go.  The ladies waved me goodbye as they mopped up his puddle, most likely silently scorning me and my dog.  As soon as we exited the building through the large glass doors, Murph found a spot, popped a squat, and defecated right in the front yard.  I was sure everyone in the waiting room behind me could see this event, but I honestly just wanted to go home, so I gripped his leash, and Murphy pulled me back across the ice slab and back to my car.

I just live for precious moments like these and cannot wait to see what my next assignment is going to be.  If you are a post-grad living at home as well, feel free to share similar anecdotes; I'm sure we all have them!