Tongue-In-Cheek … Foot-In-Mouth

I have been thinking a lot lately about how animals scratch themselves.  And with that said, I welcome you to “Veterinarian Corner” where today I, who’s not an actual veterinarian in real life, but who plays a very convincing one in my newspaper column, will answer a nagging animal medical question: if a dog has an itch on its behind, an itch which is clearly located in an anatomical area outside a dog’s normal hind-leg-scratching radius, then how does said dog scratch said itch located on said backside?

It’s not that difficult of a question to tackle, well, that is if you are a trained professional newspaper veterinarian like I am.  Listen, dogs are nothing if not versatile and highly motivated when it comes to scratching a butt itch, and therefore dogs, who do not come factory-equipped with arms, hands, and fingers, will improvise for their anatomical shortcomings by sitting on the floor, spreading their hind legs REAL wide, placing their front legs in-between their hind legs, hunching over, and begin vigorously scooting back and forth across your expensive rugs with a BIG grin of relief on their faces.

Luckily, K-9s do not embarrass easily, as evidenced by the fact that, and let’s face it, they regularly poop in public.  Lemme tell ya, you have to be really secure with yourself to pull of this public pottie practice.

And to be honest with you, and let this be our little secret, I’m uneasy going to the bathroom if my wife is in the same time zone as I am, let alone pooping in public.  But since dogs are not self-conscious, for them to violently scoot around in a public forum in an attempt to rub away an itch on their rump is really no big deal.  They actually get a kick out of it.

I remember back when I was in my middle teens.  We had a dog named “JD.”  JD loved to scoot around the house at every conceivable opportunity, but especially when someone was visiting.  This dog lived for scooting; she was a professional at it, and it made for some uncomfortable moments.  Not for her, of course, but for us, me in particular.

Anyway, my mother’s friend came over to visit, and she brought along her hot daughter, Karen.  Karen and I sat on the sofa.  I was throwing out my best most smoothest most wittiest most magnificant material trying to impress Karen with my giant brain.

EXAMPLE

“Karen, you are so hot I could bake bread on your buttocks.”

See, I told ya I was smooth.

So, anyway, suddently, right in the middle of my magnificant move, out of the corner of my eye I’d see JD aggressively scoot by with a grin in her face.  I really hated that dog.

Now I knew Karen saw this.  She knew that I saw this.  Everybody knew that everybody saw this.  But we both just sat there and pretended like some exhabishionist dog didn’t just scoot by.  And after a few uncomfortable moments, I’d pick back up the conversation, and sure enough, here came JD again, energetically scooting by us with even a BIGGER grin on her face.  And once again we’d pretend like nobody knew nothing about nothing.

Oh, sure, we both knew what the dog was doing.  But how do you broach the subject, especially to a hot chick that you are hitting on?  That’s right, you don’t.  You fake like nothing out of the ordinary like, for example, a crazy dog aggressively scooting past you, is going on.  And you look straight ahead, and continue your full-court-flirting-press hoping the dog will eventually ignite from the friction and burst into flames.

But, sometimes when a dog is frantically scooting, it’s not always because of a poorly positioned itch, but rather the result of something slightly more medically sensitive like an anal gland infection, which according to the vet, was exactly what our current 25-pound poodle/cocker spaniel mix dog, Bella, had.

Sadly, as horrible as an infected anal gland sounds, what’s even worse is that we, her owners, Theresa and my reluctant squeemish self, had to apply medicine to her rectum (eeuuuuwwwww) and then cover her butt in a diaper so she would not lick at herself, get sick from the medication, and throw up all over the furniture. (double eeuuuu).

But here lays the rub (no pun intended, okay, a pun was intended): my wife and I, who have long since forgotten how to attach a diaper to a derriere, now had to relearn this poopy procedure on a pooch; a dog that did not want a diaper attached.

It was a struggle to say the least.  But fortunately, thanks to flashbacks of the diapering of our children tag-team days, we decided to apply this tender method on the dog, which is a tender technique that basically goes something like this:

1. I’d nonchalantly approach the dog, who was currently hiding under the table, as if we had no intention of diaper her.

2. The dog, knowing exactly what we were up to, would nonchalantly raise the hair on her back, snarl, and bite the air.

3. I would then tenderly dive under the table, gently wrestle her to the ground, and softly hold her in a tender head lock.

4. Theresa would softly grab her hind legs and lightly sit on her chest.

5. And while the dog was violently wiggling, swearing at me in dog language, and threatening to bite my face off if I did not let her go, Theresa would somehow manage to attach the diaper.

Unfortunately, the first time we attempted this we ended up diapering the dog’s head.  But by the 8,000th time we were successful in diapering the correct end.

Well, okay, that’s it for this version of “Veterinarian Corner.”  Join me again next time where we will discuss the proper method for disinfecting your “scooted” rugs using a flamethrower.