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The Pouty Puppy - The Vet

I was taken to the Vet a little while ago. Clearly, it was traumatic and therefore I am still talking about it. The amount of animal cruelty I witnessed at this particular vet office was not for the faint of heart. They ACTUALLY made me sit on a scale, and then they DISCUSSED OUT LOUD my weight!! Like it was public knowledge!! Chloe was there, a great Husky gal, and she HEARD THEM. She snorted with laughter. I snarled at her. She’s the husky one, pun intended.

I could hear dogs barking down the hall, and I knew the torture they were experiencing. I stuck my head in the first door and there was my friend Larry, a Chihuahua, standing on the table getting *A TREAT* while they put the Cone of Shame around his head. I barked my sympathies at him. He knows all too well the mistreatment we experience behind these doors.

And then there was Bella, the cute little girl who loves me but I have no interest in her at all. She was getting treats too (I call it “fluffing” – they trick you into not paying attention to the atrocity they are doing unto you!) while they bandaged her leg up for the 4th time. Keep biting your cast off, Bella! Stick it to them!!

We finally got to the room and I could just SMELL the evil in there. The doctor came in and I barked at him. That’ll show him. Mom took me there to look at some lumps on my neck. I call them love bumps, but she doesn’t for some reason.

And here’s where the animal cruelty takes on a whole new form. The doctor told my mom that the large lumps on my back are… please excuse me while I wipe the tears from my eyes… rolls. Fat rolls, to be exact. They actually said – OUT LOUD – that I was fat. FAT!!!!!!!!!!!!

I glared at the doctor. This kind of cruelty needs to be put into the public eye. Calling a paying customer FAT. When CLEARLY I am not. Sure, my butt may have got stuck squeezing out of the doggie door once or twice, but everyone knows doggie doors contract in the cold.

And then, the most awful part of the experience: he put me on a diet. I can’t even write those words without tears pouring from my eyes. They discussed it openly, like I wasn’t standing right there. I looked at both of them, my dismay written all over my face. They were actually talking about me like I wasn’t even there.

They put me on DIET FOOD. Mom only gives me 5 TREATS A DAY now. I am withering away. I am STARVING. My life may as well be over, because it certainly isn’t worth living any more.

Send help. And steak.