To discuss my dog getting the veterinary equivalent of the Purple Heart

Yes, I know 16 and Preggers was on last night. I'll recap it soon, but since MTV reruns its shows like crazy, it's not as pressing to churn it out asap. Right? If you'd rather always get them the morning after, let me know ... I did do a Bachelor finale recap over here.
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I hate to brag, but I don't see any of your pets with a freaking
CERTIFICATE OF BRAVERY.

Here's what I didn't know as recently as a month ago. You should be brushing your dog's teeth every day or they'll get gum diseases and baby Jesus cries. At least that's what I think the vet told me. All I remember is a Charlie Brownish "Waa wa waaa wa Bailey needs dental work wa waaa wa his teeth make hobos look like Ryan Seacrest wa waa wa Lucy and Peppermint Patty were lesbian trailblazers."

So yesterday, Bailey the chiweenie went in for dental surgery, or periodontal surgery as they call it in the biz. Since dogs have to undergo general anesthesia, this is a somewhat risky proposition. Compounding that, Bailey has a heart murmur that makes his heart beat sound like Missy Elliott's "Get Ur Freak On."

That means in addition to the regular costs and procedures, he needed to get extra tests done, the vet said (i.e., the vet needs a new pair of shoes). What are you going to do, say, "No, I think we should just gamble on this one. They do it on Grey's Anatomy all the time, and the worst that happens is someone bangs Izzie."

Bailey has had a long history at the vet (there's this, and this, for starters), but this was the most extreme thing he's had done. When I picked him up that afternoon, he looked so sad and pathetic I was worried Sarah McLachlan was going to try to get him sponsored.

They pulled four or five teeth- I'd tell you exactly but I haven't been able to get a good look in his mouth, as I don't want to hurt him. I do wonder why he didn't opt to get grillz. This photo is a good a look as I'll get for now, and you can tell there are gaps. On the plus side, his teeth are now much, much whiter and don't make me think of hobgoblins and the Black Plague.

The vet gave him a Certificate of Bravery for the "courage he displayed" during surgery. And by that, they mean he was out like a light and didn't bite them afterward.

But an award is an award. I'll celebrate with Bailey just as soon as he stops dabbing mouth blood on my blanket.

Total vet bill: About$ $525. I'll add it to Bailey's tab.

To discuss a trip to the vet for the chihuahua- no, not that chihuahua

In the past when I've written about trip to the vet, it's been about my chiweenie, Bailey.

There was the time he wouldn't stop licking his paws, as if he was a college co-ed and his paws were tequila.

And there was the time when he had a mysterious back ailment that caused him to hide underneath my bed and shriek like Republicans at the mention of gay marriage.

But this time, the sick puppy is Leo. Leo is Capricorn's chihuahua, about 5 years old. He and Bailey have become best friends and possibly gay lovers, if all the butt sniffing and come hither glances are any indication.

Last week, Leo starting scratching his ear, leading Capricorn to believe he had ear mites. She tried some over the counter medication, which only made the problem worse. So there was no avoiding it. Leo had to go to the vet.

Since I had time this morning, I took him to the appointment. If I look dainty carrying in my 11-pound chiweenie, just think how I look carrying in a 5-pound chihuahua. I might as well start butt sniffing.

The veterinary center had been remodeled since I had last gone (which I surely would pay for in some manner when the bill came). On a giant flat screen TV behind the receptionist, Cesar Milan, even on mute, reminded me I'm not being a good pack leader and should lower my head in shame. You say Dog Whisperer, I say Human Humiliator.

Soon, Leo and I went into a room, where he got the ol' rectal thermometer (unlike Bailey, his eyes didn't pop out like a Troll doll). He got weighed: 4.8 pounds, smaller than most cats. All that yo-yo dieting is really getting to you, Leo.

As a vet about my age and ostensibly much better paid than I checked out Leo's ear, she said he likely had a yeast infection. How embarrassing, Leo. Now they're gonna have to give you Monistat. Oh, not that type of yeast infection? Should I put him in the oven to rise?

As it turns out, he just needs some medicated drops and antibiotics, which I could have told them without the $20 test but hey, what do I know, I got shamed by a reality television dog whisperer.

The vet and her assistant left the room. That gave me time to look at all the literature around the room, reminding me of how many tests/preventive medications I wasn't nice enough to give to my dogs. God help a paranoid pet owner. The sole purpose of all that stuff is to make sure you think your dog will become rabid at any moment and eat your flesh off unless you get him vaccinated. And once you're done with that, you better get heartworm prevention or you'll get an $800 bill for heartworm treatment, plus get shamed again. Curiously, none of the signs mentioned anything about erectile dysfunction, which I'm sure must affect millions of dogs everywhere. Except Bailey. And he's fixed.

I was also curious about the magazine selection. What are they trying to say about Gwen Stefani? And is the idea here no guys ever take their pets to the vet? Shouldn't there be a Playboy? At least we could stare at Bunnies.*

* Hey-yoooo!

After Leo tried fiercely not to get drops in his ear, what with having been ear raped minutes earlier as they cleaned everything out, we were all done.

The bill came to about $150. Having a pet is like having a kid. It's not like you can say, "You know what... I think I'll just let the little guy suffer. I'd rather not have to spend $150. There's a sale at Banana Republic" Then you're a monster, and ripe for an appearance on Maury Povich. (Show title: Shocking Pet Owners Refuse To Pay Vet; Neighbors, Family and baby Jesus appalled)

Leo's ear seems to be doing better. That's good. Because otherwise I was just going to Van Gogh that sucker.

To discuss an event one month in the making

Dear Capricorn:

Hey, what's going on? So, today is our one month anniversary. We now officially have lasted longer than:

• All of my middle school and high school relationships
• My interest in becoming a lawyer
• My interest in becoming a poet
• The fame of Sanjaya
• Rudy Giuliani's presidential hopes

If this was seventh grade, I'd write you a note with lots of hearts in it and intricate folding. I guess this post will have to do, although I'm not sure how I'll fold it into a triangle.
I must say, you've put up with a lot since we first met. You let me incessantly talk about my blog, my job and my dog, Bailey, all with a cute smile. I am wondering if you have a secret stash of Valium. If so, please share. There are reporters in need.

I remember that first date like it was yesterday. You know, cause it pretty much was. That date consisted of a trip to Wal-mart, in which you made fun of a plastic baby in a fake incubator, and a trip to see "Ghost Town," otherwise known as "Let's get that guy from the British version of The Office into a movie." I do not remember much about the movie, but I do remember you looked gorgeous and I was a little nervous. You also made me sing afterward. Like, several songs. A capella. Including a Christmas song and Michael Jackson.

Since that date, all of the people who read this blog have heard stories of us taking Bailey to PetSmart, where he defecated in the aisle, and to the vet, where he was thermometer raped, as well as our trip to the MVA with Cuts McCutterton. I'm glad I shared those times with you. We even stayed together after you got hit on by that cute boy. Sure, it would have been statutory, but that's just a word, anyway.

I'm also glad you gleefully looked after Bailey while I was in St. Louis so that I wouldn't have him slowly starve to death in my apartment. That would have been bad. On a related note, I'm sorry Bailey tried to bite you the first time you met. He's sorry.

So what's in store for us, Capricorn? I'm hoping good things, considering I already told my mom you're coming to Thanksgiving, and she'd be jacked if we broke up. She wants grandchildren. Like, yesterday. No pressure or anything, but if we could perhaps adopt a baby for the day and just let my mom "Coochie coochie coo" a time or two, that would stuff her Thanksgiving turkey. Just a thought.

At least I know what's in store for us this weekend, and I think other people will be jealous. That's right, on Saturday, it's Fall Fest 2008 for WildARS and Capricorn. There will be fall foliage viewing, pumpkin carving, pie making, corn maze walking and all types of autumness, plus a little karaoke to top it off.

I think it's a good way to kick off Month Number 2.
That, and the amazing gift I have for you that will be written about on Friday. A hint: it's not a car. Or a kitten. Or jewelry.

Or Mark Wahlberg.

To discuss making a Mix CD guaranteed to offend small children

An overview of last night. For references, see yesterday's post:

Capricorn and I took Bailey for a follow-up visit to Grey's Anatomy: Vet Edition. If you recall, Bailey has been incessantly licking his paws, so he's been wearing a E-collar for three weeks to help him stop. His paws no longer look like war wounds, but they don't look great, either.
After several of the Grey's team- I think it was Izzie and Meredith- fawned over how cute Bailey is, we went back to some dungeon of a room next to a construction area.
They once again stuck a thermometer where the sun don't shine- on Bailey, not me- and the head vet, still wearing a sleeveless shirt like German's participant in the shot put event, came in to examine Bailey's paws.
She was pleased with the progress, but wants another three weeks of antibiotics and cone wearing just to be safe.
That led to this giant cone, which I believe was last used on a St. Bernard. While Bailey had trouble not smacking the cone off of things last time, his new cone has now given the strong possibility that he'll be stuck on his head with his butt wiggling in the air. I will Youtube it. It will be amazing.

After we left the Grey's team-- let's recall that I'm Dr. McDreamy in this analogy- Capricorn decided she wanted coffee. But not just any coffee. She wanted wild pumpkin latte from some coffee place in Maryland about half an hour away. Road trip.
Capricorn was jonesing for coffee in much the same fashion a heroin addict seeks a needle, only without the drug addiction or stigma. She almost giggled with excitement when she ordered. I will say, that was a cool coffee shop (Caribou Coffee). There were the requisite people on their laptops and wearing plastic framed glasses, so I knew we were going to be fine.

While it was fun going on a random escapade in the pursuit of coffee (I hate coffee, btw. I drink hot chocolate), what was truly the most amazing portion of the trip came on the tail end.
As I drove us back, Capricorn found an old CD a then-boyfriend of hers made when they were about 18.
Yes, dear friends. It's a classic Mix CD (which used to be a mix tape... which is now a mix MP3???). Now, there's nary a boy who hasn't made a Mix CD for his Ladyfriend. I've made several.
But this one is different. Remember, we're talking about a high school boy who is a virgin.
The following are some of my favorite selections and lyrics, as each track unfolded on the car speakers like a sexual symphony to my ears.

Ludacris, "Splash Waterfalls": "Know how to mack a (bleep), she's on your (bleep) and (bleep)
You call her (Sweet God in Heaven, Bleep Bleep Bleep). (Bleep Bleep) .... I'd include more lyrics, but the FCC would have a heart attack.
JKwon "Getting Tipsy": "Everybody in the club getting tipsy"........I'm fairly certain this song is meant to say, Hey, can you get drunk so I can take advantage of you?
Twista, "Slow Jamz,": "She got a light skinned friend look like Michael Jackson/ Got a dark skinned friend look like Michael Jackson." Good call, Ex-Boyfriend. This song is funny.
NSync, "Girlfriend": Uh,dude? Dude?!? You can't put on "Splash Waterfalls" and then have NSync. Not that this is a bad song. But now she might be confused that you also have given this CD to your boyfriend.
Dashboard Confessional, Some Random Song of Theirs: You know this CD is made by a teenager when you use Dashboard to express your romantic angst.

Fortunately, Ex-Boyfriend redeemed himself with:
Ludacris, "What's Your Fantasy": Awesome, man. With all of your previous sexual conquests in hand, you want to close the deal with a song that asks the girl to do you on a football field and in the back of the club, and at one point announces "Rough sex, make it hurt."

It's amazing you two still aren't together.

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A play by play of Making the Band is coming up soon. It was crazy. One of the Danity Kane band members is on her way out! In related news, Capricorn told me I'm too involved in the show. She's silly.

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?

To discuss a dog with more issues than you

I'm taking Bailey to the vet this afternoon, which is both scary and great.

Scary, because you always get a little nervous the vet will find something wrong with your pet (last time, they discovered he has a heart murmur, which makes his heart beat like a Nelly Furtado song). And scary because it freaking costs a freaking lot of money for freaking everything.

Great, because it gives me a reasonable excuse to talk about my dog, which I try not to do often since I don't want to be one of "those" guys that talks about their pet like anyone gives a crap.
Some things you should know about Bailey:

• He's a chihuahua/dachshund mix, a.k.a. a Chiweenie, a.k.a. likeliest dog to become the neighborhood bitch of other dogs.
• I adopted him from an animal shelter, where Ex-Fiance and I were told no one else wanted him because he was weird. For some reason, no alarms went off in our head. Hmm.
• He has a small chunk missing out of his right ear, making his already gigantic ears look even stranger. I'm hoping it was because he used to get in gang fights with other dogs, with one vicious fight ending with him, sans full ear, telling other dogs, "You should see the other guy," as he smokes a cigarette and the other dog limps away with his testicles ripped off.
• He does dumb things, often involving fecal matter. Examples: When driving from Connecticut to Pennsylvania in the early days of owning him, Bailey, who usually curls up and sleeps in the passenger seat, jumped on to my lap. He looked up at me as we cruised down the highway, arched his back, and took a giant dump all over me.... Example 2: Bailey follows me everywhere, and I mean everywhere. So at one point earlier this year, I had just sat down on the porcelain throne. The bathroom door was ajar, and in walks Bailey. He has a strange look on his ugly mug. Within a second, he is tip-pawing across the bathroom floor, right in front of me, as he dispenses diarrhea everywhere like a chocolate fire hose. I gasp in horror, as I see Bailey continue his Trail of Poopy Tears back toward the door and onto the carpeted hallway. With my pants still around my ankles, I lunge after his pulsating rear end with a Kleenex to catch the remains of this running brown tragedy. Moments later, he's done and calmly walks away. I survey the scene around me-- pants down, tissue full of dog nastiness, poop all around (but not on) me-- and I decided it might just be time to call it quits on life.
• He humps things, even though he's fixed. In the first days of owning him in 2005, Ex-Fiance and I already had adopted her Pomeranian, Lucy (who, at one point, jumped into a toilet and stood there like she was in a bird bath). Lucy was spayed. Lucy did not appreciate Bailey trying to hump her like an audition for Bailey Bangs Baltimore in the days leading up to his neutering appointment. He also humped one pillow with such disdain and vigor that I'd come home from work every day with stuffing littering the floor like a fallen cloud, incriminating pieces of pillow stuffing clinging on his disproportionally large mantool.... And even now, every so often, I catch him trying to hump something. Just like dad.
• He's an awesome dog. We spoon every night.
  

His appointment today is to investigate why he's licking all of his paws incessantly, giving new meaning to the phrase "Lap dog." It may be allergies; it may be skin irritation; it may be he needs the touch of a good woman. I already mentioned how Sister and I looked at potential partners for Bailey, and how that ended in scary metal pipe images. Here's hoping today's appointment isn't as scary. I'll update you later.