Last Thursday, Tigger the Dog (TTD) had her annual shots scheduled. I made Husband promise to take her because I’m sick of being the bad guy/mean parent when it comes to her. I’m the one who has to give her a bath and attempt to cut her nails and chases her when she eats poop. He’s the one who plays ball and gives her copious treats and never comes at her with sharp objects that make her nails bleed despite my best attempts to avoid the quick. This time, with shots involved, I wanted out. Besides, Husband is fond of saying that TTD gets all Chewbacca because she’s feeding off my nervous energy so if I’m not there, all should be rainbows and unicorns, right?
And then the dang dog went and ran herself into the stairs during the big freeze and got herself four staples. And those dang staples were scheduled to be removed during the dreaded shots appointment. And the stupid snow iced up and it was determined that it would be best if we were both in the car with dog so I could calm her and Husband could concentrate on getting us there safely by not sliding off the road. ,
So we trot off to the vet’s, slip sliding through the slushy ice bits on the road, make it to the vet’s office safely. Tigger is whiney and wiggly but not nuts. She actually sits to get weighed and then, somewhat calmly, follows the vet tech and Husband into the room where the bad stuff happens. Treats and shots and staple removal happen and everything is relatively painless – except the bill. That totally hurt!
And then, while the vet is writing up her notes and the vet tech is running my credit card, Husband spots a small thing on TTD’s eyebrow. I call the vet back in and she examines it as best she can. TTD remembers her from minutes before and isn’t really playing easy.
“It’s a mole,” Vet says. “Nothing really to worry about but I can remove it if it becomes troublesome.”
Another few treats, a large hit to my bank account and we were out of there. Not too traumatic, right?
Husband has the Internet and the Internet has awful things that could happen to you, your loved ones and, in particular, the mole on your dogs eyebrow that looks like a dried booger but now he knows will kill her. He spent the night on the Internet. He spent the next few days poking the mole. He spent way too much time imagining what could go wrong and then he asked me to book an appointment to get the mole removed.
“It could be cancer.” He said. “And then what?”
I can’t argue with, “And then what?” Not me, who can worry anything into a fatal disease. So, appointments were made and pre-surgery instructions were given and Husband readied his car for transport because the appointment was at 7:30am and there was no way he’d be awake. And, dang it, because this meant I was going to be back being bad guy/mean parent again. And then, last night at almost midnight, as he was saying his good-bye to her – because “what if…” he noticed THE MOLE WAS GONE!
Gone! Like there was no longer a mole on her face BECAUSE IT FELL OFF!!! Bleah, soooooo gross!
If I weren’t so dang tired, I would have gotten video of Husband scouring the dog bed and the carpet for the missing mole. If I weren’t so over the Internet and its dang tempting doom and gloom, I would have spent the night trying to match the booger mole thing he found to some evil cancer to prove him right. But I don’t have time for that nonsense. I had to get to sleep so I could get up early to NOT take the dog to the vet to get a mole removed but instead to call them and tell them my Husband does not have a degree as a WebMD veterinarian and that whatever was cancerous is no longer on the dogs face so we won’t be coming in to have it removed but here’s my credit card to charge for the booking of the room and drugs and drama.
Life with Husband is never boring.
But, you know, sometimes, I would like boring.
And my bank account and I would really be okay with dull and uninteresting and way, way, WAY, less expensive…
UPDATE: When I called the vet's office and explained the missing mole, they were totally understanding. I would go so far as to say they were as amused as I was by the image of Husband crawling around the brown carpet with his iPhone light looking for mole bits. AND, they did not charge me a cent for not coming in to have the missing mole removed. Win, WIN! Especially for the dang dog. She doesn't know how close she came to more slicing and dicing and hating me again. Phew! Now, let's get back to being boring.
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me