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A VISIT TO THE VET

My retired brother-in-law, Bill, had Achilles tendon surgery. His left leg was in a cast from his knee to his toes. This severely impaired his mobility, so my blue-eyed, now blonde-haired, younger sister, Bonnie, asked me to accompany her and Mandy, a dachshund, to the new vet's office twenty minutes away on Forest Hill Blvd. We live in Southeast Florida. Maybe, back in the day, there was a forest. But a hill? No.

 

"Mandy dislikes riding in a car," she told me. "It would help to have you there for support."

       

"Dislikes" was a euphemism. Mandy hates riding in a car.

 

Upon my arrival at one o'clock, Bonnie took Mandy's carrier crate from the laundry room and placed it on the kitchen counter. Seeing this, Mandy flashed by us on her way to the master bedroom. Those fat, little legs could really move. She was under the bed before we could stop her.

 

Bonnie dropped to the floor. "I'll take this side; you take the other." She reached in, and I grabbed Mandy as she ran by. She squirmed and wriggled and escaped my grasp. Bonnie gave chase and tackled her in the family room. As they were on the floor, I relocated the crate next to them. A melee ensued and, for a moment, it was a toss as to who would end up in the crate. Mandy lost and I locked the door.

 

It was odd that the crate did not have a handle, but when the crate rocked from side to side as Mandy moved, we surmised that it was upside down and the handle was on the bottom.

 

"Take the dog out and right the crate," Bill said from the recliner.

 

We ignored this, and Bonnie carried Mandy to the car with the handle dangling below.

    

I sat in back with Mandy, one hand on the bottom of the cage to steady it. By the time we exited Bonnie's community near 441 and headed east, Mandy, a high soprano, was in full quadraphonic sound. It was apparent that the herbal "Calm," purchased at PetSmart, was not effective. Nothing tempered the aria, not even treats. They lay untouched at the top of the crate.

 

Bonnie spotted a vet's office on the other side of Forest Hill Blvd. We made a U-turn and  arrived with plenty of time to spare. This was good because it was the wrong vet. With Mandy reaching an operatic crescendo, Bonnie couldn't hear the GPS. Entering the wrong street number didn't help either. After much discussion, the staff member directed us back from whence we came. Following her instructions we made another U-turn. It was a new two-story building with an Emergency sign in front. I had noticed it previously, but the numbers didn't jive.

 

"This must be the place," Bonnie said. "They told me to look for the Emergency sign."

 

She parked the car, walked Mandy a bit, and then we entered the building. Bonnie spoke to one of the girls behind the high counter to our left. She couldn't find the appointment.

 

"I made it three weeks ago—Bonnie Dodson with Mandy."

 

The girl looked puzzled and went to another computer.

 

We sat in the first row of chairs opposite the counter and discussed the staff's incompetence.

 

Soon a woman in white scrubs emerged from a back room and called, "Bonnie." We stood prepared to move forward, but a balding man of lean proportions got there before us. They chatted for a while, and he returned to his seat along the back wall. This happened again but after the third call, the man approached us. "The dog is a rescue. I didn't name her."  

 

"It's okay," Bonnie said. "I don't mind, really."

 

They smiled at each other, and the man returned to his seat.

 

This seemed to break the ice because, not long after, another man approached us and sat next to me. He was tall, well-muscled, and well-tatooed, but of an older generation—a dreaded specter on a deserted street.   

 

"I found a kitten lying on the side of the road and took her home," he said.  "My wife and I want to keep her.

 

"A kitten . . . that's nice."  I smiled at the floor.

 

"Yes, we want to keep her."

 

I folded my hands in my lap and looked at him.

 

"I hope she's okay," he said. "She's awfully small."

 

"Kittens are small," I said.

 

"It's lonely without a pet. Our old dog died."

 

"I'm sorry to hear that."

 

"Thank you."

 

"It's good you brought her in," I said. "Ferrell cats usually have fleas and ear mites, maybe, worms. The sort of problems a vet can fix."

 

He stood to leave.

 

I looked up at him and said, "Don't worry; she'll be fine."

 

He nodded and returned to his seat along the back wall.

 

Soon thereafter, Bonnie's phone rang. As she was tied up in the leash, I reached into her bag and answered it.

 

"The vet called and you're twenty-five minutes late for Mandy's appointment," Bill said. "Where are you?"

 

"At the wrong vet, obviously. Did you get the name and address?"

 

"No, Bon has it."

 

"That's not helpful. Any identifying information?"

 

"I have the phone number."

 

 I took the number and informed Bonnie of our mistake. As Mandy was still leaping on and off the chairs in concert with the size of the dogs entering and leaving, and as Bonnie was still tied up in the leash, I went over to the desk to apologize and ask for help. She took the number, located the vet, and gave me directions. The vet was a few miles further east. No U-turns.

 

We rushed in to the office full of apologies, and a staff member quickly ushered us into an examining room. Mandy was a model patient, not a sound left her lips until we got back in the car and headed for home, or so I thought.

 

The weather was cool, and I opened the window and watched the scenery as we passed by. The two and three-story buildings and shopping plazas gave way to old, small, single-family dwellings. The window sign, "Psychic Readings" was particularly jarring. But it wasn't until I smelled salt air that I said, "Bon, we've been going east instead of west."

 

"I thought something was wrong. Where am I?"

 

"Route 1 is at the light ahead, take a right."

 

She did. "It was the U-turns that confused me, and with Mandy howling, I just wanted to get home as soon as possible."

 

"That's not going to happen. Let's take Hypoluxo and head west to 441."

 

"I'd rather take Lantana; it's closer"

 

"Fine."

 

We got home in time to walk Mandy before her dinner.