I'll say this first: today had a great beginning & ending! :)
ACT I: great food & great friends
I had plans to meet Britten (my Yogini, which sounds like a drink but simply means my yoga instructor), Nicole (from class) & Stacy (Britten's friend) for brunch at Bluestem, and I was excited to try it because I had heard such good things. We had a great time together & it was a fun way to spend a relaxing Sunday morning. Just what I needed. The special, a breakfast burrito with homemade pico de gallo, was delicious, and the Mimosa hit the spot!
ACT 2: testing my nerves
Then I returned home & realized that Aki still wasn't feeling good; she has had 2 accidents in the house overnight this week, which NEVER happens, so I knew something was wrong. She seemed more frantic to get outside this weekend, constantly whining at the door to get out. Clearly something was wrong, and I suspected a urinary infection. I weighed the options of running her to the emergency vet today or trying to get her into her regular vet tomorrow morning, & decided that since the condition was potentially very painful it couldn't wait. Mistake #1: I should have waited for MY vet.
We got to the clinic, which was nearly empty. "Great! We'll be in & out," I thought. "Then we can run around the dog park for a bit." I filled out a form & was immediately taken back to a small exam room. A vet tech came in, asked me questions, then said she needed to take Aki in the back to be examined. I was not comfortable with them taking her to the back. All the equipment was in the room. Why wouldn't the vet examine her here? But I didn't speak up. Mistake #2: if your gut tells you something is wrong, listen.
After 15 minutes, a vet came in & asked me if they could take a urine sample. "That's the whole reason I'm here. What were you doing for the first 15 minutes?" I thought. She said she'd check the urine under a microscope & would be back. She left. I sat there & read a magazine. Taylor was with me, and was uncharacteristically upset. He wouldn't settle down.
The room backed right up to the "employees only" area, and there was a lot of commotion. Every minute or so, I would hear loud, bloodcurdling shrieking, followed by horrific snarling & barking. Whatever they had back there sounded vicious. I went back to the magazine. Taylor paced & whined, staring at the door. The screaming heightened. I couldn't help but be bothered by it: that dog sounded like it was in a terrible amount of pain! Then the snarling again. And all the while, the sounds of several employees talking... and LAUGHING. WHAT is going ON back there? Why weren't they helping that dog?
I tried to be patient, but the sounds were frightening & persistent. When I checked my watch I realized I had been trying to tune it out for an hour. Where was the vet? Where was Aki? Then I heard a loose dog scuttling past our door with an agitated man yelling, "Catch it!" Taylor went crazy, as did all the dogs in the back. I wanted to open the door to see if Aki was loose, but I waited until the chaos died down. I had been waiting one and a half HOURS, and my nerves were shot—I was completely on edge from what sounded like animals being tortured. My hands were shaking.
I opened the employee door & stuck my head in. Suddenly everything was quiet. I called, "Hello?" No answer. You could hear a pin drop. "HELLO?!" Nothing. That was it. I wanted my dog back & I wanted to get the hell out of this place. Mistake #3: don't wait until you're seriously upset before speaking up.
I went to the front desk, & said that I wanted my dog right now & that we were leaving. The bewildered receptionist took me back to the room again & brought in the vet, Aki in tow. She said she was just examining the sample. I said that I thought it was horrible that they'd leave me for an hour & a half in a room listening to what sounded like dogs being tortured, without checking in with me. She didn't say much, just lowered her eyes & said that the urine contained some bacteria & yeast, that they were giving me an antibiotic & a steroid, and I should follow up with my own vet. I barely heard her.
Furious, I stopped at the counter to check out, expecting a bill of about $100, or twice what my vet would charge. It was over $200. I nearly lost it. I said that given what I had just been through & their failure to communicate about my dog or the charges, I wasn't willing to pay the full amount. She kindly went to get the manager.
The manager met me & took me back to a room to avoid making a scene in the now-full lobby. To my surprise she responded just how I would have wanted her to: she asked me what happened. She agreed that the communication breakdown was their fault. She listened attentively & with empathy & concern. She said she'd address everything with the full staff after I left. She explained that the screaming & snarling was from a dog with a traumatic brain injury, who slipped in & out of a coma. Every time he came to, he went crazy. The only way they could control it was through medicating him to make him comatose again. That bothered me in that it sounded like the dog was being kept alive to suffer, rather than being mercifully laid to rest. But I'm not a vet. So I suggested that no one should be left sitting in an adjacent room, forced to listen to that, particularly with no explanation. I couldn't tell for sure whether or not the sounds were coming from MY dog!
She apologized & said that the staff worked hard, but sometimes they got too "clinical" & forgot that they were dealing with people's babies. I said that NO ONE in this profession should EVER forget that their patients are beloved. She nodded.
She waived the exam fee ($75), I paid up & we were on our way to the dog park. I won't soon forget this event, but I hoped the dogs would. I hope the manager will use this as a learning opportunity for her staff. It also reinforced my feelings of how I want to treat others, and to be treated.
ACT 3: bring it on home
I got home exhausted but looking forward to heading out to Lee's Summit to pick up Lisa at the airport, a young red shiba from Wisconsin. She was 1 of 2 shibas that had been rescued from a 1000+ count puppy mill in Mexico, MO. I got to the airport & sat in the lobby, chatting with a guy named Kelly. Soon the Piper Cherokee arrived & John stepped out & unloaded Lisa. She was a happy, energetic, gorgeous young shiba, tiny at only 14 pounds. She didn't walk: she pranced. She acted like she was in a dog show. Not the attitude you'd expect from a dog who grew up in deplorable conditions. A dog's resilience is something we can all learn from. I thanked the guys & drove to pick up Kathy.
Kathy & I delivered Sookie (her new name, from "True Blood") to Ryan, which was about the best ending a day could ever have. The dog was happy, Ryan & his mom were happy, and Kathy & I left feeling that we helped make a perfect match. I was so grateful to be involved & for a great finale to a tough day. FIN
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