Dog trains man

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

The Vet Crasher

Before I could reach for the entrance door of the vet's office, Tilde already jumped up in an attempt to reach the door knob and open it for me. She was looking forward to say hello to everybody inside. Not that we have been with Tilde to the vet very often, only three times before if I remember correctly, but the vet and her staff clearly left a positive impression behind with Tilde.

We had an early 8 am appointment for her annual health-check and I could feel how she was a little anxious too when she recognized where we were driving to. Excitement on top of excitement. With not enough sleep for me, it felt like I sleep-walked into the vet's office. We made a bad cocktail.

The waiting room was empty and the modest sound of the automatic doorbell went unnoticed in Tilde's mix of high-pitched barks and peculiar howling sounds. The vet-tech sitting behind the reception desk, invisible for Tilde, was on the phone and she nodded with a smile to acknowledge our arrival.

Tilde started bouncing and turned up the volume, disappointed nobody came out to greet her, and it didn't take long before the other vet-tech entered the waiting room, alarmed by the sounds of a dog who obviously was being tortured. Tilde stood on her hind-legs while I held on to the leash, her front legs peddling in the air to come closer to the vet-tech.

While they greeted, the vet-tech behind the desk asked me to look at a piece of paper while she held her hand on the phone. Her voice didn't went unnoticed for Tilde, who didn't wanted to be rude, and jumped from the arms of the vet-tech she was cuddling right onto the reception desk with her front legs, making small jumps in an attempt to pull herself up. She startled the vet-tech in the process, who quickly returned to her phone call.

The vet came in now too, and after saying hello, offered her help and said "Give her to me, then you can fill out the paper". It was just a form where I had too confirm some of our address information. The vet tried to weigh Tilde, and out of the corner of my eye I could see how Tilde thought she should walk over the scale through the legs of the vet, which she did with great enthusiasm several times.

While I filled out the paper at the reception desk, I suddenly noticed Tilde's face appear under the armpit of the vet-tech on the phone, who finally surrendered and greeted Tilde with the phone on hold. The vet, still on the other end of the leash busy weighing Tilde, lured her back to the scale, and while she sat on the scale for a split-second, the vet started laughing, realizing the chaos in her office and Tilde's ability to keep four people occupied. "I am so happy we have Tilde as our first appointment, now we are all awake and ready for the day," she said, and we all laughed. She was right, my feeling of sleep-walking inside had vaporized and I was awfully awake.

Into the examination room, Tilde jumped on the examination table right away and the vet activated the table lift. Tilde's tail started to wag with new excitement when she noticed the table was bringing her closer and closer to the vet's face. She resisted the urge to jump and waited frantically - patiently would not be the right word to describe it - to reach kissing height. The vet happily accepted her sloppy kiss.

Fifteen minutes later we stepped back into the waiting room again with a clean bill of health. The next patient had already arrived and Tilde's original excitement returned in a split second when she noticed the dog and his owner, and she tried to reach them using my arm and the leash as a bungee rope. The lady looked appalled at Tilde and clearly tried to make sense of her intentions. "We have a little wild animal over here!", the vet joked, and the lady smiled uneasy.

I tried to reach for the receipt laying ready on the reception desk when Tilde made a new bungee attempt, and the receipt flew out of my hand back over the desk, "I got it!" the vet said, while her and the vet-tech tried to intercept the flying piece of paper. The vet handed the paper over to me again, and I looked at Tilde, if this time she would let me have it.

"Sit," I asked, and Tilde threw her butt on the floor immediately and sat down. Her tail kept wagging, as an ominous warning sign for a new explosion. The silence returning to the waiting room was ear-deafening. Five people were all looking at Tilde now, and it was if we all were holding our breath. The transformation from wild animal into obedient pet seemed surreal. Tilde remained seated.

Back outside I wondered why I didn't think of it earlier to ask her to sit. I thought she would be totally out of reach, but I guess she was not. While we walked back to the car, Tilde started a happy dance and had already returned to her antics. She might love the vet. She definitely also loved to leave again.

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