To discuss Grey's Anatomy: Vet Edition

First off, look at these photos (before and after), and shed a small tear. This is a dog who has been emasculated, and he's already been neutered.

To get up to date on the Chiweenie, read yesterday's post. To get up to date on me, read every single one of my posts and interview any mentioned ex-girlfriends.
I came home around noon today to take Bailey to the vet for the first time since I moved to Pa.
The vet required what is delicately referred to as a "stool sample," which makes it sound like they want furniture floor models, when what they really want is for me to Ziploc the same crap that every other day I throw away. It does, however, make me feel like a scientist, like on Jurassic Park when the archaeologists discover the Triceratops dung... the only difference is I don't get eaten by Bailey later.

I gave Bailey a pep talk, drove to the vet, and was glad to see no other animals were in the waiting room. That's usually the bad part, when somebody's Doberman-- "who is usually so nice. I don't know what came over him today"-- tries to bite my face off.
It's just Bailey, me and Stool Sample waiting near four or five attractive vet assistants, who all looked like they could audition if Grey's Anatomy does a vet spin-off.
You could tell they were trying to figure out what type of dog he is, or perhaps, if he was just an overgrown squirrel that I had managed to tame and put a leash on.
We get taken to the back, where Izzie takes the sample off my hands. How many times a day does she handle dog feces? That's got to be a terrible job.
She and Meredith immediately begin fawning over Bailey, who looks scared shitless on the metal table. Meredith says "She looks so cute." I immediately worry that Meredith is a professional vet and doesn't know how to identify a female dog from a male dog. I briefly consider demonstrating, but then back off.
I run out to grab some forms, while the Grey's interns rape Bailey's sphincter with a thermometer. It's a good thing humans don't use rectal thermometers. That could lead to a whole new set of mommy issues.
After the sphincter raping, they take Bailey back to get a heartworm test, i.e. stick him with a needle- he eventually gets prodded enough during the afternoon to qualify as cattle.
The head vet barges in, wearing a retro haircut and sleeveless scrubs. I didn't know they made them sleeveless. Evidently, she wants to intimidate the dogs into submission with her East Germany arms.
She quickly rattles off a variety of possible causes for Bailey's incessant paw licking, including allergies, parasites, chemical exposure and others- I lost count and they all probably are tied to al Quaeda, anyway. The Grey's team (which makes head vet Dr. Bailey in this contrived metaphor) whisks Bailey away again as he looks sadder and sadder that I'd let Izzie molest him so much with sharp objects.
Dr. Bailey performs a "skin scrape," which is exactly as painful as it sounds, to test for parasites (came out negative... they didn't let me take home the skin for a keepsake).
The final determination came down to allergies or something related, so they gave me some pills and medicated wipes and an E-Collar, which now makes Bailey's head look a bowl of cereal. It may very well be a low point in his life. I mean, a male dog should be able to lick his genitals whenever and however he wants- it's what separates him from humans. Now, he can't lick anywhere.
He also has a yeast infection in between his paws, which either means he's been hiding the fact he's a woman, or he works at a bakery during the day while I'm gone.
Oh, the final bill, including heartworm prevention meds, paw infection meds, booster shots, rectal raping and the Queen Elizabeth fall fashion show, totaled $295.
I'd say that's a horrendous amount, except it's always that much and nothing surprises me anymore.
At least it's fun to watch Bailey try to maneuver around with his new accessory. It's the small things in life, you know?