When Riley and I moved into our last apartment, we had to switch vets. I was a little worried, mainly because I didn’t know anyone in Eagan that could recommend one and I knew I needed one close by, based solely on the fact that I was (and still am) a paranoid pet owner. Riley’s passion for eating things he’s not supposed to also was in the back of my mind, too. I ended up going to the Banfield clinic (yes, the one that’s inside PetSmart) and meeting the doctor that Riley will always always go to because she and her entire staff are so fantastic.
Riley’d been a Banfield boy from the day I got him. Another doctor had removed his manhood and everything went just fine, but the only person at this particular clinic Riley and I both enjoyed was the main doctor. At a vet’s office, you to work with more than just the main doctor, though. The bitchy receptionist and the vet techs that wouldn’t even get down on the floor and introduce themselves before shoving a thermometer up my dog’s unexpecting ass made it slightly intolerable. In other words, I didn’t really feel enough loyalty to them to drive across three suburbs once Riley and I moved in together.
Now, everyone there knows Riley, possibly because we’re there so much. Every time we’re there, though, I never feel like I’m being rushed in and rushed out so they can see as many animals as possible. Once we get into the waiting room, a vet tech usually comes in and looks him over, and we talk about why we’re there. The whole time we’re having this conversation any one of the techs will be down on the ground letting Riley climb all over them.
Riley gets pretty anxious while in the exam room. It’s small and he can’t see out, so I kind of see where he’s coming from. But as soon as he hears his doctor’s voice, his ears perk up and he sits right by the door, waiting for her to come in. The second she walks in, his tail stub starts going crazy and he can’t even contain himself. It’s all he can do to not just completely explode for she can kneel down to say hi to him.
We’ve taken multiple trips to the vet for his allergy problems and skin issues, both of which he’s extra susceptible to since he’s white and a boxer. He’s put some food into his stomach that really been dog-friendly, and we’ve had to take quick trips to make sure everything was okay. There was the time he peed the bed while he was sleeping and didn’t even wake up, and then there was the time he woke up shaking. Needless to say, we’re frequent fliers to the vet’s office and having a doctor that never loses patience with me is awesome.
This Saturday, Riley and I had to go back for an allergy check up, which resulted in some type of ointment he gets in his ears twice a day. I wanted to do something nice, because dealing me and my irrational questions? That’s more than nice.
I stopped by the grocery store earlier in the week and picked up some brownie-type things. I didn’t want to bake for them, because, well, I like them. I added a few sentences of my own sentiment inside the card that Cindi helped me pick out, and I packed them with us when we headed back down to the suburb I just moved away from.
I kind of felt like a tool bringing in treats to my vet and her staff. In fact, when my favorite front desk girl asked why I brought it, all I could really say was “I like you guys!”. But, really, that’s mainly why I did it and I felt really good after doing it.
Being a veterinarian or part of the staff that can deal with some pretty shitty things day in and day out have got to range from mind-numbing to absolute gut-wrenching, and I don’t envy them one single bit. The least I could do was show them how much I appreciate all they do for me and my rotten ol’ dog, and I kinda want to do it more often.