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“That’s your hair? But it looks like the hair on my kid's Barbie after they washed it in the kiddie pool.”
…
“It’s just so…frizzy.”
…
“It’s my hair,”I choke out.
“Move along, Ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you, Dolly. Let’s see how you are doing.” Taylor began a hands-on exam, feeling her spine. “We are just going to do a nose-to-tail check first.”
I liked that he explained what he was doing while working through it.
“My receptionist noted that Dolly was adopted from Newtown. I think that’s great.” He smiled. It wasn’t a question, so I just nodded back. He had a very confident aura about him. He put his hand out to Dolly and said, “Shake!” and she put her paw in his hand. “Good girl,” he kneeled to inspect her paws. I was impressed at thethoroughcare she was getting.
He had his stethoscope out and listened to her breathing, then her stomach. “Everything sounds good so far.” He locked in on me. “Weight?” I robotically answered, my mind shifting to the nurses asking me at the start of every checkup.
“147.” He burst into laughter. “Thank you.” He picked up Dolly from the metal counter and set her onto a tabletop scale. The scale read‘5.0.’
“A perfect five.” He looked pleased and wrote that down on his chart. Then, he pulled out his flashlight and held her head, but she didn’t seem to like that.
“Katie, do you mind holding her while I inspect her eyes? I think she wants her mom for this one.”
Mom. I suppose that’s me.“Sure.” I stood up and retrieved her, but with the giant counter between us and my being only 5’4”, I realized that one of us had to lean over quite a bit because he wasn’t much taller than I was. I put my elbows on the counter and dramatically pushed my upper body forward so he could comfortably check her when he simply walkedaround the counterand stood beside me.
“Oh, you can do that, huh?” I whispered, now sliding down from the metal table, flashbacks of the horrible slides in elementary school that gave you both whiplash, hearing damage from the deafening noise, and the need for tetanus shots.
He smiled and informed me that his dad was taller. “My dad is six foot seven,” waving his hands at the height of the table. “I have my suspicions I was switched at birth, but then again, my mother is four foot ten. I’ll be getting these tables lowered.” He shined his flashlight in Dolly’s eyes, teeth, and ears. He was inspecting her ears for more than a minute. “Any anxiety issues?”
“Who doesn’t?” I said, jokingly, but he turned and gave me a very concernedlook. “Is she having any trouble at home?”
“No, no. She’s a perfect angel so far. I mean, I just got her Sunday, but I work with a woman whosehusbandis a pet behavior-ologist?” I knew that wasn’t the right word but kept rambling, “And she gave me the signs to look out for.”
“The pet behaviorist?” He was half listening, but his attention was in the right place since he was still inspecting her ears.
“The wife of one.”
He clicked off his flashlight. “Oh, that's great, Katie. Keep an eye on it.
He then had Dolly walk up and down the counter, using his arms to make sure she didn’t fall off the sides. “Her gait is perfect as well. She’s a very healthy pup.” He wrote something down in his notes. “I’d estimate she’s about two or three.”
I was going to ask about teeth cleaning when I saw the thermometer pulled from a drawer. “This is the least favorite part for all of my patients, understandably.” He laughed as he took her temperature.
“Is it just you and Dolly?” His question came sideways at me, just as the thermometer turned the same direction, but he maintained eye contact during the temperature taking. I couldn’t pretenditwasn’t happening, but I was pleased by his question just as much. I decided then that hewasn’t unattractive; he was interesting to look at, in a bookish, stocky,differentway. He looked like he rode a bicycle to work with one pant leg tucked into his sock, but it didn’t tarnish his boyish charm. That’s what it was: he was sort of, in a distantly familiar way...charming.
“Yes, I am single,” I said with a smile. He pulled out the thermometer, nodding at the temperature. This was all working out so well for me, first I adopted a dog,now I met a veterinarian?
He let out a laugh. “I’m sorry, I—I meant, are there any other pets at home?”
I felt my cheeks start to redden again. “Just Dolly.” I hated getting ahead of myself.
Dear Jesus,
Please, please give me the wisdom to know the difference between flirting and veterinary medicine.
