With my friend Berry Berenson’s blessing, I took Blondie to the vet for a full check up (which was free since I adopted her from the pound!). According
to my new vet, Blondie was a Spitz mix, a breed of dog I had never heard of before.
Dr. Winters came highly recommended and his
office, The Beverly Hills Small Animal Hospital was within walking distance
from my apartment.
Sitting in the waiting room with my very own dog in my lap, I conversed with all the
other caring pet owners. There was a young gay couple with a puppy that they
were training as a guide dog. Another woman with over permed hair had an
elderly cat in a carrier that was letting the entire waiting room know how
unhappy it was to be there. I peaked inside the carrier and saw that the cat’s
fur was the same color as the woman’s over processed hair.
There was a family with a young golden retriever puppy in for its first
shots. The two brothers were busy playing with their toy airplanes and cars, driving
them over the dog’s head and body. She just lay there wagging her tail,
watching their every move with adoration. The boy’s father tried to keep his
sons contained, but they were too active to sit still. They used the unoccupied
chairs that lined the walls as racetracks, making zooming sound effects and big
crash sounds when their toys would land on their dog.
Blondie sat in my lap,
shaking so much that her teeth chattered. I worried that if I didn’t get this
dog in soon to see the vet soon, she might give herself a heart attack.
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