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In celebration of his 11th birthday, Typhoon had his exam with a new doctor, so Hu-Dad is telling vet tales on the Little Prince.
We have been fortunate to work with some great veterinary practices over the years, but never reached the same level of happiness when we moved to Asheville. Hu-Dad made the decision to switch to a new practice just in time for His Royal Highness Little Prince Typhoon Phooey’s scheduled exam.
Now if Hu-Dad had thought about this a little, allowing Typhoon to represent us as an initial impression may not have been the wisest move. Let’s just say the Little Curmudgeon has earned his nicknames. He is gifted with his Siberian Death Scream, a high-pitched shriek of indignity that many Siberian Husky owners are familiar with.
Hu-Dad once had to explain to a nervous lady in a waiting room that he was sure the screaming dog was fine because, well, he know who it was. Minutes later, the door opened and a vet tech escorted a prancing Typhoon out from the back. The Little Prince was proud of his antics that day.
Things went well when we initially arrived at the new vet. Typhoon weighed in (44.6 pounds for those keeping score with his long-time digestive issues—a full ten pounds lighter than his “little” brother, Roscoe), preened for the staff, and headed back to the exam room. The meet and greet and patient interview process passed smoothly, but then Typhoon was invited to share some blood for tests. He threw a loud temper-tantrum and Hu-Dad apologized. Fortunately, the vet tech smiled and said, “We’re used to Siberian Huskies.”
Well, harumph. We are rough, tough sled dogs. What does she mean by that? Amusingly, though, we hear that same sentiment from many, many vet techs.
The veterinarian entered the room and introduced himself. He was impressed with the large stack of papers that documented Typhoon’s rather lengthy medical history, but also demonstrated his knowledge of the issues and appreciation for the various treatments over the years. Hu-Dad relaxed knowing he had found the right vet, but Typhoon prepared for the touching to come.
We have mentioned before that Typhoon doesn’t like being touched, right?
The vet began with the head, ears, eyes, and teeth. He then worked his way down the shoulders, spine, and rib cage. When he approached the stomach, Hu-Dad braced. Because of the digestive issues, Typhoon’s abdomen is quite sensitive. But those same issues require a thorough exam.
Sure enough, as the vet’s hands approached the midsection, Typhoon screamed.
Horrible, right? Well…
The vet looked up and smiled. “I haven’t touched his stomach yet.”
Yes, that’s right. The vet’s hands were near but not touching Typhoon when he screamed. The drama king had struck again.
The actual touching and probing was met with far less reaction, of course. In fact, the vet was pleased with the way things felt. We sent the blood out for full lab testing, but as long as nothing appears in those results, we will continue our current medication and food strategy.
Typhoon then received his rabies vaccination (didn’t even flinch—go figure) and we left the examination area. As we entered the waiting room, the Little Prince strutted and pranced to show off for the captive audience, even if they were a little shocked listening to the screams from the back.
As Hu-Dad paid the bill, he promised that whoever came next wouldn’t leave quite the same impression.
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