Smile
About five years ago, just before Ryan and I started dating, he took Lilly in for a teeth cleaning. The tech took her back and then brought out the paperwork for Ryan to go over and sign before he left. As with any surgery, you are required to quite literally sign your/her life away and then promise not to sue the doctor if something goes wrong and you, or your dog, you know like DIES.
Ryan was so caught of guard and so in love with his dog that he declined, had Lilly brought back out and promptly left the vet office. In the years following, he has commented no less than a dozen times on Lilly needing her teeth cleaned. "The vet is having a special, we really should look into getting Lilly's teeth cleaned." "Hey babe, what do you think about having Lilly's teeth cleaned?" "WOW, Lilly has some horrid shit breath, let's have her teeth cleaned." But nothing ever comes of it.
And since there was NO way I was going to pressure him into it, the years have passed and the breath would nearly make you pass out. Of course each time Ryan would bring up the subject of Lilly's teeth he would just as quickly change the subject or "forget" about it, so five years later when he mentioned it I figured I'd humor him and call for a price quote. And then listen to him rationalize his way out of it and the shit breath would remain.
But he surprised me. "Book it," he said, and once I had picked my jaw up off of the floor I did.
Today was the big day, but the past three weeks leading up to today have been a little touchy. You see, Ryan and Lilly are kind a big deal. They were made for each other. They are so in love with one another that it could make you either cry or gag depending on what kind of person you are or how dramatic one or both of them are being. NOTHING would EVER be OK again if that dog died while having her teeth cleaned. NOTHING!! And so the past few weeks, particularly the past few days have been a little tense around here.
This morning I, the bad guy, dropped her off and signed the dreaded paper that put the risk of death right there in black and white. I sighed it and as my pen scratched the paper I felt tears welling up inside. I left wishing I had given her just one more kiss, one more pat of reassurance, been able to see her just one more second before her graceful silhouette disappeared around the corner. I bussied myself all day frequently checking my phone for word from the vet.
Finally the call came and I held my breath as the tech informed me that everything was OK. I could BREATHE AGAIN and the color slowly started pooling into Ryan's concerned face. He, the good guy, went to pick her up and she is now home safe and sound. She is walking around like the ol' towne drunk and searching for food as if she hasn't eaten in weeks, you know, her normal self.
So with a happy heart we made it through, a success! But I'm going on record right now that this is not happening again, EVER. Even if she lives to be 30 and her teeth are rotting out of her skull. I'll chew up her food for her before I sign that paper again.
Ryan was so caught of guard and so in love with his dog that he declined, had Lilly brought back out and promptly left the vet office. In the years following, he has commented no less than a dozen times on Lilly needing her teeth cleaned. "The vet is having a special, we really should look into getting Lilly's teeth cleaned." "Hey babe, what do you think about having Lilly's teeth cleaned?" "WOW, Lilly has some horrid shit breath, let's have her teeth cleaned." But nothing ever comes of it.
And since there was NO way I was going to pressure him into it, the years have passed and the breath would nearly make you pass out. Of course each time Ryan would bring up the subject of Lilly's teeth he would just as quickly change the subject or "forget" about it, so five years later when he mentioned it I figured I'd humor him and call for a price quote. And then listen to him rationalize his way out of it and the shit breath would remain.
But he surprised me. "Book it," he said, and once I had picked my jaw up off of the floor I did.
Today was the big day, but the past three weeks leading up to today have been a little touchy. You see, Ryan and Lilly are kind a big deal. They were made for each other. They are so in love with one another that it could make you either cry or gag depending on what kind of person you are or how dramatic one or both of them are being. NOTHING would EVER be OK again if that dog died while having her teeth cleaned. NOTHING!! And so the past few weeks, particularly the past few days have been a little tense around here.
This morning I, the bad guy, dropped her off and signed the dreaded paper that put the risk of death right there in black and white. I sighed it and as my pen scratched the paper I felt tears welling up inside. I left wishing I had given her just one more kiss, one more pat of reassurance, been able to see her just one more second before her graceful silhouette disappeared around the corner. I bussied myself all day frequently checking my phone for word from the vet.
Finally the call came and I held my breath as the tech informed me that everything was OK. I could BREATHE AGAIN and the color slowly started pooling into Ryan's concerned face. He, the good guy, went to pick her up and she is now home safe and sound. She is walking around like the ol' towne drunk and searching for food as if she hasn't eaten in weeks, you know, her normal self.
So with a happy heart we made it through, a success! But I'm going on record right now that this is not happening again, EVER. Even if she lives to be 30 and her teeth are rotting out of her skull. I'll chew up her food for her before I sign that paper again.
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