Favorite Expressions
I just spent $20 to have my dog’s anal sacs squeezed because he’s been greasing the couch lately. That may seem a bit exorbitant for a little gland squeezing, but it will definitely go down as the best $20 I ever spent: I DON‘T HAVE TO SQUEEZE THEM MYSELF.
No question! For awhile, Jerry needed this done every 3-4 weeks, which meant 30-40 minutes in NJ traffic to get him there and back, plus waiting in the lobby.
Sure, I felt a little silly in the lobby.
"What's your dog in for? Heartworm? Oh, that's terrible.... My dog? Yeah, he's got stinkbutt. Yeah, it's really bad"
How bad was it? Well, apparently there are 2 of these glands. I never really checked myself, but I deduced there were two by listening to the techs. There is apparently a class in vet school where they teach you the proper order of anal gland squeezing. Like mounting a horse from whatever the proper side to mount a horse is. Whichever the proper side to begin is, that side was never particularly bad, because I'd always hear the same thing.
"So you think Jerry needs his glands expressed?" (which is the technical term for the squeezing)
"Yeah, I know it was only a few weeks ago, but they've gotten really bad again."
"Ok, well let's check."
At which point I would turn to face the opposite direction, and usually take Jerry's head and start petting him. Partly I did this so he wouldn't turn around and bite the vet, because for some reason or another Jerry didn't particularly enjoy this experience. But the other reason I did this is because I wanted there to be absolutely ZERO chance that I would see anything that happened down there.
The next part was 100% reproducible:
"Ok, well that one didn't seem too bad" (translation: "You're a lousy dog owner who is over-reacting.")_
"So let's just get the other---OH GAWD." (translation: "Oh that stain is never going to come out... I should have gone into a different line of work. I thought I had seen some nasty stuff before, but that.... UGH... I'm going to have to cancel our dinner plans. In fact, I may never eat again")
Needless to say, we didn't get a lot of techs coming back a second time. I wouldn't be surprised if they had posted a chart in the break room where people added their names after taking care of Jerry's glands so they didn't have to go back. This list was apparently kept a secret from the other techs, because no one ever came in with the proper attire (say, like a hazmat suit from Chernobyl).
Come to think of it, Jerry may have been the equivalent of New Vet Tech Hazing, a rite of passage for the new recruits. Every week the same "Oh, well that doesn't seem to bad" initial diagnosis, followed by the sound of trying not to scream and/or throw up in front of a client.
Afterwards The Actual Vet came in (being smart enough to not appear until after the glands were "expressed") she checked to make sure there wasn't an infection (How could you tell?!? Nevermind, I don't want to know). During the 4th or 5th visit, she said, "You know, if you'd like, we could show you how to do this yourself, and you wouldn't have to bring him in here."
To which I replied, "Thanks, doc, but that's just not a level of familiarity I'm interested in attaining."
What I wanted to say was, "Are you nuts? That thing can gag a vet tech do you think I'm going anywhere near it?"
$20 and an hour in traffic? A bargain at twice the price.
(By the way, we started feeding Jerry a higher-quality of dog food and his glands improved dramatically. We paid a little more for the food, but we saved time, hassle, and more than one innocent and unsuspecting vet tech.)