Of the thousands of details I have taken on to get our move off smoothly in less than a month, number 407 was to bring Jingle to the vet. We were woefully behind on shots, and I needed to get her a prescription for happy pills for our final departure/long ass drive out of Tampa.
So while we had a showing on the house (yay!) I packed Jingle and Jess up, and we headed to the vet.
This wasn't supposed to be a big deal in the grand scheme of things--Jingle's a pretty good dog (now) and it was really just a check-up. She was doing just fine until the nurse went to take her paw to draw blood, and then Jingle turned into this ferocious beast which required 3 aides, a muzzle and then a trip to the back room where they mysteriously injected the proper medicines. It was all surprisingly upsetting.
As we were leaving, standing by to pay a very high fee for such trouble, another dog came out of another room. A miniature schnauzer started yipping and yapping annoyingly. Jessie walked over to him, but his owner kind of freaked and yelled, 'He's not used to little kids!" and Jessie backed away.
The woman and her little dog left, barking the entire time before urinating on the floor of the waiting room, and I looked down at Jessie who had an uncharacteristic frown on her sweet face. She said, "I just wanted to pet that dog."
I hugged her and explained that some dogs get too scared if they don't know people.
She just looked at me and said sadly, "But I'm Jessica."
I think she's going to have a lot of new friends in Tennessee.