Before we were married, before we had kids, we had Corki -- our beautiful, buff Cocker Spaniel. That little girl was our baby.
Neither of us could have imagined the shock we were in for after her first visit to the vet.
Connie had taken Corki in for shots and some routine blood work, and scheduled her to be groomed at the same visit. As new "parents," we were a little concerned that Corki wasn't acting herself after the vet visit. We'd throw her favorite ball into the air, waiting for her to leap and catch it like she always did. Instead, she just sat there, watching the ball go up, and then bounce down right beside her. No reaction. Her chew-bones didn't interest her. She wouldn't come when we called her, and she wouldn't even jump up on the couch to watch TV with us. Something was definitely not right. We called the vet, and they told us that she could be having a reaction to the shots or the blood work. The wanted us to keep an eye on her, and call them back in the morning.
So, we thought we'd take her outside for some fresh air. She didn't want to play, run around, or do anything. Frustrated, I picked her up under her front legs and held her outstretched to Connie, and said, "I really don't know what's wrong with her!" But in an instant, Connie knew. The look on Connie's face turned to total shock as she screamed," OH MY GOD -- she's got a penis!
I quickly set the dog down (OK, Connie says I dropped her), and backed up, paused, and the picked "her" up, turned "her" over, and declared, "Yep. It's a penis."
We called the vet back and quickly discovered there was a "mix-up," as they called it. Apparently, we had "Desert," a male, buff Cocker Spaniel, who was apparently a trained show-dog. And apparently Desert's owners had been given Corki. But instead of letting us swap dogs that evening, we had to wait until the next morning. So, we "tucked" little Desert in for bed, and made our way to the vet's office in the morning. We learned that when Desert's owners were called and informed they had the wrong dog, they didn't believe it. "No way, we have Desert," they replied. They insisted they had the right dog. It wasn't until they were told to check for the right "parts" that they believed it. Their response was almost exactly the same as ours, "Oh my God, he's missing his penis!"
What kind of parents were we? We couldn't even tell that we had the wrong baby!
So, a few years later, when our son Austin was born, let's just say a thorough inspection took place before we left the hospital. With all parts accounted for, we took Austin home to meet his big sis, Corki, who became his best friend for life!
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2 comments:
Love it!
Yup. We've had those types of scares... where you wonder why God ever gave you ANY responsibilities at all... let alone the responsibility of being a parent!
Keep up the good work as a parent... pet owner... and writer!
Yup... love it!
Several years ago, my husband took our 2 boys ice skating for a Cub Scout activity. I stayed home with our daughter, thinking what a great dad he is spending quality time with his sons.
Two hours later, I heard the car pull up. I was looking forward to hearing all about their fun afternoon. Instead, I'm greeted with, "Mom!! Dad fainted at the hospital!!" WHAT?!?!
I ran to the door to see Andy (our 6 yr old) with several blue stitches in his chin, and my husband with a hospital ice pack tied around his head (much like an Easter bonnet).
Then I hear the story. Andy, being Andy, tripped (or more likely dove) onto the ice cutting his chin. My husband realizes that a band-aid won't do, and takes him (and Brian, our 8 yr old) to the hospital. Andy was a trooper and survived the stitches just fine. Just as the doctor was cleaning up, my husband said he looked up at the clock and suddenly felt very hungry. Then he dropped like a ton of bricks. First he hit the silver tray holding the medical equipment, then he hit the floor hard. When he hit the tray, he sent all those sharp objects flying across the room. We think that's what sent Brian (our older son) running for cover. Luckily, as he ran out of the hospital room, he ran right into a police officer who calmed him down and stayed with him until his dad was attended to.
To this day, my husband blames it on skipping breakfast. But, the nurses in the ER (who asked how Dad was doing when I took Andy back in to get his stitches removed) say it happens more than you know.
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