I got an early morning call from the Vet Vet around 10, which is not nearly as early as I thought it was. I answered on the seventh ring.
“Hi Vet Vet.”
“Are you sitting down?”
“If you installed that hidden web camera like I suggested you would know that already, wouldn’t you.”
“Now is not the time for joking.”
Vet Vet is a former Green Beret who served our country in two tours in Afghanistan as both a soldier and a dancer in USO shows, plus a tour in Iraq, solely as a dancer, but still, it was war time and I did no service at all. When Vet Vet returned from the war he got a degree in Veterinary medicine, thus the double Vet Vet name. Plus both Gren Berets and Veterinarians are not known for their sense of humor.
“When is the time for joking, cause you should call back then.”
“Seriously, I have some unfortunate news.”
“Please don’t tell me my dog is dead.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your dog is dead.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“She died in surgery.”
“She was in surgery?”
“Sex change surgery, you didn’t know?”
“Well, I always knew she was more butch than bitch, but I did not know of her plans for a change in positions.”
“Well, she came in yesterday.”
“She came in by herself.”
“No, she came with her lover.”
Yeah, her lover. Oh, I could tell you all about her “lover”. You know, if Rick Santorum needs a poster couple for everything wrong with gay marriage and the gay lifestyle and the gay everything, it would be my dog and her long time lover Momma Kitty. First of all, I am not sure how committed Momma Kitty is to either her long term lover or to actually the whole gay lifestyle, having birthed no less that 16 children while “committed” to her long term lover, my recently deceased dog.
I guess now is not the time to complain, plenty of time after the funeral.
“So what you are saying is, my dog came in and demanded a sex change and you did the surgery.”
“Of course not, we did some initial counseling weeks ago.”
“Counseling? You counseled my dog?”
“Well, I gave her some treats, and I showed her pictures of the various types of implants, she didn’t seem to pay much attention. She finished the treats, then she licked herself for a while. That was about it.”
“That’s my dog.”
“Well, that was your dog. She’s gone now.”
“Probably in doggy heaven right now.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. There is no such thing as doggy heaven. Trust me, if there is a heaven and hell, god does not waste space on dogs and cats, and if he has space for dogs and cats you can bet your last dollar that he does not want a sexually confused lesbian Australian Shepard prancing around with a prosthetic penis.”
“Just being honest.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
“So, what would you like me to do with the body?”
“Right. Well, certainly you should donate her organs to charity.”
“And her fur to doggy cancer patients.”
“We did that the minute the cat unplugged the respirator.”
“And I guess you could donate her collar to a dog at the Humane Society.”
“That’s very thoughtful.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something about the cat unplugging the respirator?”
“Yeah, oh, right. Yeah, the cat pulled the plug, we think it was probably an accident. You know how, when a cat gets really black out drunk they do these crazy things like unplug respirators and things like that?”
“Yeah, sure, that shit happens all the time around here.”
“Sure, same here. So, we had installed the dogs new penis and she was just recovering and the cat comes stumbling in the surgery room and is completely wrecked on vodka and high as a kite on cat nip and she’s all over the room, pissing on gear and meowing like I’ve never heard. Then she just starts unplugging everything.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, my cell phone rang, I walked outside to talk for a minute.”
“Yeah, it’s weird, the reception is, like 10 times better outside.”
“That makes sense.”
“Anyway, when I came back in, the cat was passed out and your dog was dead.”
“About the bill?”
Then my phone went dead. Bad reception goes both ways I guess.
Repost from 2013.