Today we all went to check out the new veterinary clinic. Same vets, they moved to a new space. The main reason we went, though, was to see how much I weigh! But did anyone tell me this beforehand? Of course not! I was unceremoniously escorted to the car, shoved up the ramp, and off we went!

First things first: gotta mark my leash.

I don’t really like car rides much. I get very nervous and sweaty.

They drive like maniacs around here. Back off!

When we got there, I refused to get out of the car.

I’m fine right here, thank you.

It was a busy parking lot. The post office was loading packages, a noisier enterprise than you might think.

Dick is optimistically standing by the ramp, holding my leash.

Early on, everybody thought I might just casually saunter down the ramp.

No, really, I’m just fine here.

I sat in that car for over two hours.

Don’t bother me.

I had quite a few visitors, even some people I knew. But I sat in the car, anyway.

What does HE want?

I got a little bit angry and bit the passenger door.

Truthfully, it wasn’t as good as corn on the cob.

I sat and I sat and I turned around and laid down. But mostly I sat.

What it looked like from outside the car. The very essence of recalcitrance.

Going on three hours, everybody started getting pushy and I started biting that corn they kept sticking in my face, and suddenly I scuttled down the ramp and walked into the clinic!

Pre-scuttle activity.

Next thing I knew I was on the scale and everyone was gasping! 124.2 pounds!

124.2 lbs, 56.3 kgs, or 8.8 stones!

I really wanted to bite those wires. Everyone started to gather around and admire me, and for a moment, I was distracted.

I started to check out the new clinic.

And then the unthinkable happened!

I don’t know where this crud came from.

I was actually very embarrassed that I would get the blame for soiling the clinic, so I ducked into the nearest examining room and took a bite out of the seat of a stool. Suddenly I was yanked out of there, toward the waiting room.

The picture of innocence, sweaty and pouffy!

I was in a hurry to get out of there, but I managed to backtrack just long enough to take a serious bite out of one of the waiting room chairs, too! They all said not to worry, but Stacy hauled my butt out of there pretty fast after that! She didn’t even stop to take photos!

Home again.

As I finished off the corn, lettuce, and apples, Stacy noticed that the leash had been “damaged.”

Shark attack, no doubt.

I know how to make Stacy happy again. I’ll just rub her pants leg with my morrillo.

Stacy is mine, warts and all.

I can hardly wait to go to the vet again! It was really fun!

Respectfully submitted, Senhor Dobbye Winnick