Pine Word Works

View Original

#20 PUPPY -- SURGERY

Wednesday, June 24, 2020 - A Birthday

 

“We like to wait as close to a year as possible,” said our much-trusted Vet. Better for bones, and growth, and even disposition, we’ve been told. We nearly knocked-off waiting at our baby’s 8th month, what with an awakening awareness of his body’s urges suddenly expressing itself, even to his own surprise. We’ve finished waiting. By the middle of his ninth month of life, the appointment was made, and not intentionally, it falls on today, on the occasion of Scooter’s 10th month birthday. Not a day too soon, I wish to add. 

 

The bane of the ancient Saint Jerome has become Scooter’s preoccupation. The 22.8 pound boy has become aware of a hard desire from his nether region stronger than any command either from his owners or from the mushy cortex inside his head suggesting, “better not grab hold your master’s arm, the sofa pillow, in that way, with that overwhelming intention. “Scooter, NO!” Not a day too soon. Does “neuter” rightly rhyme with “Scooter”?

 

 However. This overly-protective mistress, a willing worrier, dreads the deal. This will be the fifth of things we have done to suggest to Scooter that being a baby can last only so long. We have taken away all stuffed toys since his major delight in his second teething stage is to eviscerate (we have a fourth Lamb Chop hidden, waiting for the phase of destruction to pass). We have punctured the squeaker device in the soft purple ball since not a thing can be heard over its wail, and Scooter LOVES keeping the wail alive; but when the squeezing caused by his relentless chomping occurs, his little ears are very near, and who knows how quickly deafness might follow? We subjected him to his first professional grooming (and the groomer will accept him back – whew), pictured below, and we’ve asked him, repeatedly to wear for a while a blue, inflated donut ring around his neck. He has no idea that this is designed to keep his nose from searching for missing body parts.

 

Today, on this his 10th month birthday for heaven’s sake, his well-emerged symbols of manhood will be removed. Scooter sleeps on this morning in ordinary security. I’m a mess.