Rachel pulled in front of a small brown building. As soon as she opened the back door, I smelled dog feces. Where had she brought me? I'd figured vet meant doctor but this had to be wrong.
"Come, boy. I bet you get treats inside."
Unless it was a medium rare burger, they could keep their treats. I heaved a sigh and hopped out of the back.
We walked to the door, which she opened to let me in. Inside, a man sat with his pit-bull. The thing took one look at me and started to whine. Good. The woman with the Chihuahua was another story. That little chew toy started yapping at me fiercely. The woman looked at me with distain.
Go ahead...set the yapper down.
She held it close as she spoke to the woman behind the counter.
"Come on, Clay," Rachel said, tugging the leash to the bench opposite the pit-bull.
I followed and sat beside her once she positioned herself on the bench. Then, I watched. Once the yapper left, the woman came from behind the counter. She offered the pit-bull a treat to coax it onto the scale. It got another treat so it held still. And yet another treat to go into an exam room. I stared at the plaque on the door. Exam Room 1. I looked at the other door. Exam Room 2. I looked at the scale, the woman approaching with the treat, then Rachel as I realized what she'd done. She'd brought me to an animal doctor. How degrading.
I stood before the woman reached us and went to the scale. There, I stood still hoping she wouldn't try to feed me one of those dried cakes. It didn't smell bad. But I wasn't a dog and wasn't about to eat something humans fed to a dog.
"Wow. This is Clay, right? He's very well trained," the woman said, watching me.
She read the scale and made a note on a piece of paper.
"Yeah, we haven't had him for long. We don't know much about him, actually. Shots, age...it's all a mystery."
Shots? What the hell was she talking about?
"Well, we'll take a look and see what we can tell you. Let's go in here."
She opened the door to Exam Room 2. I ignored her treat and walked in.
"Hmm..." she said, watching me. "What does he eat at home?"
"Well, we bought him dog food, but he doesn't seem to like it. I've given him some cooked steak and other meat," Rachel said, her voice laced with guilt.
"Perhaps we can recommend a different dog food. Though dog foods do contain meat, they also contain other essential vitamins and minerals dogs need that they won't get from just eating steak."
This new woman needed to stop talking. I moved closer to Rachel, defending my sole food source.
The door, opposite the one we'd entered, opened. Another woman walked in.
"Good morning," she said, looking down at me. "My, you're a big one." She looked up at Rachel. "Shelly mentioned there are no records. Can you get him to jump up on the table?"
"Yeah, no records," Rachel said, standing. "I'm not sure he'll listen." Rachel looked at me and patted the low metal table.
"Come on, Clay. Up here."
The sooner I did what they wanted, the sooner we went back to Gabby, I reminded myself. I hopped up on the table and fought not to roll my eyes at the new woman's praise. She held out her hand. Did she really expect me to sniff her? I looked at Rachel. She smiled at me and nodded.
"It's okay, Clay. She's just going to look you over to make sure you're healthy."
I'm healthy.
Still, I turned back to the woman and pretended to sniff her. She praised me and offered me a biscuit. I turned away, but she kept trying until I took it in my mouth. Then I set it on the table between my feet.
"Has he been eating well?"
I'm eating fine, I thought as I listened to Rachel repeat her explanation. As she spoke, the woman ran a hand along my side, down my legs, then cupped my unmentionables. The move shocked me so much I froze in panic as she groped me.
"He's not neutered. Let's see if he'll let me look at his teeth."
Yes. Anything. Just please let go.
I endured a thorough exam of my mouth and ears. They talked shots, and I put up with a few pokes. Human medicine I might have to worry about, but I doubted animal medicine would cause any issues.
When the woman put on a rubber glove and asked Rachel to hold my head, I grew suspicious. The words "anal glands" sent a shock of panic through me. I jumped off the table and backed toward the door. What did they do to dogs here? That yappy Chihuahua made more sense. It had probably been screaming for help.
"Um, I think he's done cooperating for today," Rachel said slowly as she watched me.
The woman tried coaxing me with a variety of treats, even the lunchmeat from her sandwich, for the next several minutes before agreeing that I'd had enough. There was no bribe on the planet that would get me back up on that table.
"If you notice him scooting on the carpet, you should bring him back."