As You Like It: Captains Courageous

My dog Snoopy is many things, but brave is not one of them. That may surprise the neighbors who have walked their dogs past our house to the accompaniment of an animal’s loud roar. They must think that we have some huge beast in here until they look up and spot the vicious 30-pound beagle barking hysterically — then they laugh. Snoopy just can’t carry off intimidating. Handsome, yes; adorable, always; but courageous — not really.

I’ve seen my marshmallow mutt jump back ten feet when a blade of grass blows the wrong way or a dandelion puff brushes past his nose. But the places that truly terrify him are the groomers and the vet.

It begins when he excitedly leaps into the car. Now, most of the times that Snoopy rides in the car are when he’s off to an unpleasant experience. Once in a while we drive to Houghton’s Pond for a walk or out to Amherst to visit Mariel, but usually he’s going to get his nails trimmed or his yearly shots. So you would think that he wouldn’t be exactly anxious to get into the car. But, as Steve pointed out, our pooch is an eternal optimist.

 In the seven years that he has lived with us a piece of food has dropped from our kitchen counter maybe ten times. And yet he is ever vigilant when anyone is preparing a meal. So I suppose his doggie brain figures that his chances are good that a car ride will lead to a walk or a visit to Mariel. That being said, his optimism usually lasts about two minutes.

I speak as soothingly as I can to calm him down, but he’s a suspicious mutt. He paces back and forth in the front seat, sits down, gets up, pokes his nose in my face, places a paw on the wheel. I put him in the back seat or attempt to tether him but to no avail. Once panic sets into his doggie head, there’s no placating him. I know it’s not simply being in the car that sets him off because on the way home he’s always perfectly calm. He knows that the torture, whatever it was, is over and he’s going home.

Luckily for us, Mariel worked for a kennel for a while so the head groomer there, Sue, knows our crazy dog. She calls him “the monster” since clipping his nails is harder than doing the creature from the lagoon, and he’s just as slippery. A surgeon once told us rather gently that Snoopy doesn’t like being restrained. Yeah, we get that. But if the groomer is no picnic, a visit to the vet is noon at the OK Corral.

This morning it was time for his yearly physical, so I prepared myself with two espressos and some Excedrin. He was so excited to be going with me that I almost wanted to cry, but I told myself that it was for his own good. So we began our usual routine of him jumping into the car, then the heavy panting, nervous yawning, head out the window, pace, pace, sit, stand, scream — oh no wait, the screaming was me. Luckily it’s just a ten-minute ride.

When we approached the vet’s door he turned to look at me with that, “Et tu Brutus?” expression that he does so well.

I shoved him into the office announcing that Snoopy the brave was here. Immediately two young vet technicians were there cooing over the adorable puppy and making little dove sounds that I knew wouldn’t last long. They would learn. We went into the large back waiting area where he paced like a caged savannah beast, whimpered and then jumped onto the large window trying to make a break for it. I knew there was no way that I was going to calm him down short of taking him out, so I just sighed and paced with him.

The poor guy needed not only his shots but also several blood tests, so he was going to be a pin cushion before the visit was over. In came the two vet techs, still cooing and exclaiming over his incredible cuteness, but Snoopy wasn’t buying it. He knew they were packing needles. I tried holding him, but despite their small size beagles can be incredibly strong and he kept slipping out of my grip.

“Would you like me to hold him?” one of the techs asked.

“Absolutely!” I replied. “I think mommy is going to leave the room.”

And I did. Fifteen minutes later they emerged looking mussed and a lot less enamored of my pup. Snoopy gave me a look that would wither daffodils — and we hadn’t even seen the vet yet. The vets at Windhover Veterinary Center are incredibly gentle. Dr. Holmes didn’t even make him go into an exam room; she simply got down on the floor with him right there. It almost looked liked she was massaging Snoopy as she carried out her examination while talking softly to him the entire time. He did calm down a bit and stopped looking at me as if I were Benedict Arnold.

 But still I had to leave when it was time for his shots. It seems that when my pup is in pain, I’m no hero either. I guess neither of us will ever win a Purple Heart.

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Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Apr 29 2010. Filed under As You Like It, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.