[Teresa Ford]

Rubin had a routine dental Fri. He did fine. His labs were good. Now I could end the post right here, But oh no, I am that Crazy Yorkie Lady.
7:15 am March 22, 2013 (my birthday). Arrive at Vet
I arrive early and with lack of sleep, purple shadows under eyes. With a shaky hand I sip hot tea from a McDonalds cup and scald my tongue. Ruby knows where we are and starts to whine all pitiful. I unhook him from the car seat and he jumps up front and circles on my lap. My stomach growls because I wouldn't eat breakfast, because he couldn't.
Two cars pull into the parking lot. Ruby gives a half hearted alert bark. We watch in horror as a man plops a very young puppy on the grass, where a thousand sick dogs have walked, puked and pooped. He lets her sniff around while glancing at his watch. We hate him. She poops and he doesn't pick it up, Of Course ! Rubin stands up on my leg and glares at the bad man. I stroke his back. The woman in the other car sips coffee and her Yorkie barks like a possessed squeaky toy, at the puppy outside. The well dressed lady looks my way. Our eyes don't meet because I have tinted windows, but she nods toward me anyway. Must be the words on my back window, YORKIES R THERAPY that makes her send out friendly vibes. The over night staff comes out a side door, the front waiting room lights come on. The man with the puppy tugs her to the door and goes in. It is Time.
Rubin only gets in his carry purse after I beg him to. As I open my door and swing my legs around I notice I have one black sock and one navy sock. I snort and grumble at myself and take the socks off. I slip my loafers back on, eww barefooted in a loafer feels grody gross. As my feet crunch on the stone and shell walkway, Rubin's whines are punctuated by high pitched yelps. Gosh he never acts that way, maybe he is absorbing my nervousness. The carry purse swings back and forth against my hip, good grief, Ruby is standing up inside the bag and trying to get under the bottom pad. I say softly, "Stop It Ruby " with out any expectation he will stop.
(Fake names used to protect office ladies ) Deb greets me from behind the counter and hands me the pre-op consent forms on a clip board. She smiles and says "Good Morning Ruby Boy" and taps the screen panel of the carry purse. Rubin cowers and makes himself into the smallest, shaking, fur ball possible. I plop down in a chair and sign the papers. The man with the pup, rolls his eyes at all the nice talk. Nurse Sue appears and I unzip the bag. Rubin is like a flattened bug smashed on a wind shield. No way is he climbing out. Sue has to hold the purse open, so I can use both hands to peel Rubin out. Sue chats about what a pretty boy and other comforting stuff and Rubin is having none of it. I put him in her arms and kiss his little face. She turns to go through the door and Rubin's quivering little top knot and sad eyes are my last glance of him.
I swallow this huge lump and press a hand to my rolling belly. I am vaguely aware that the lady from the parking lot is saying something to me. With tears pooled in my eyes I turn to her. She pats my arm, and says, I am so sorry, are you putting him to sleep ? I blink at her in shock, before I can reply, Deb laughs out loud, and reassures the lady," Oh no! he is just getting his teeth cleaned !" The lady looks at me and snatches her hand away like I might be crazy and dangerous and stutters, " Well I 'm sure he will be fine." Then I see her mind surfing for the reason I am so upset ? then she comes up with a logical deduction, first dental, new patient, and says, " My Yorkie has dentals every year, and Dr. B is really very good you know." Ashamed at my dramatics I nod, pick up the empty carry purse and turn to Deb, before I can say anything she chirps. " Don't worry Miss T, I'll call you as soon as Rubin is done, and again when he is awake, and again when you can pick him up , just like I always do." I fly out the door without looking back at the lady who's mouth is a big O, but I can hear her in my head, OMG that is one crazy Yorkie Lady !