Jersey had her annual check-up last night.
The dialogue went something like this:
Vet: Does Jersey ever scratch? Amy: Yah, sometimes she rubs her butt on the grass Vet: That’s called scooting
Exhibit A: Scooting
Jersey hates the vet. My docile golden retriever turns into an uber-bitch, and has to be muzzled and restrained by 2 people just to give her the annual shots.
You can only imagine how she reacted when the vet expressed her anal glands. I’ll let you follow the link to find out more about that.
She hated the vet before, but I’m pretty sure she’ll never want to go back. Ever.
To add insult to injury, I got stuck in the. worst. traffic. ever.
I spent 1.5 hours, driving about 30 km/h with a dog that smelled like hot garbage. Awesome.
I arrived home with cheeeeeeeeeeeese on my mind. Specifically the leftover baked sweet onion jam brie from the weekend.
Served with a beef batty, some zucchini goat boats, and a few slices of ciabatta baguette.
It was a beautiful night and I didn’t feel like venturing to the gym, so in an attempt to shake Jersey’s vet depression, we went for a 40 min walk in the sunshine.
I think she was still feeling slightly violated, because she walked with a slight waddle with her tail tucked tightly between her legs.
Side note: I was slightly obsessed with Boot Scootin’ Boogie during my university days at the UofG. Best two stepping song ever.