The Fat Bastard & His Chubby Little Sidekick

He's a handsome lad...but he's a Fat Bastard!

I'm not talking about the one whom I adore (but if I don't lay off making butter tart muffins, he might just become a Fat Bastard)!

No, I'm talking about the other one whom I adore, my constant companion for the last 11 years, my own Maui Boy, Snickers Cameron.

Last week we went to the Atlantic Veterinary College for his annual check-up and vaccination update. We LOVE going to the AVC - their level of healthcare for animals is second to none. The AVC is a teaching hospital and as such, you are always surrounded by keen, eager to learn residents and animal lovers. Usually, you are met by two 4th year residents who do a thorough work-up, taking history, doing a preliminary physical exam, discussing any behavioral issues, identifying anything you may have missed but might be worth mentioning to the teaching vet.

This year, though, our annual visit coincided with summer reading week, so there were no 4th year residents on hand. Instead, we spent three hours - yes, three hours, with the senior teaching vet who went over every hair on both dogs heads, not to mention every lump, bump and slightly smelly ooze coming from one little dog's ears.

Three hours!

I do not joke.

Three hours! To have the dogs examined, toe-nails trimmed, and vaccinations administered. I ask you - when was the last time you went to a people doctor and spent three hours one-on-one with the doctor?

For me, the answer is - NEVER! (and I've spent a considerable amount of time in the hospital!)

I am not complaining that it took three hours - indeed, I am overwhelmingly impressed that a doctor of any sort would spend that kind of time with a patient.

You would think that it took three hours because there is something seriously wrong with one or both of them. Nope. They're both healthy as can be. Which given that Snicks has had a leaky ass, thus leaving identifying ass prints wherever he lay for the last month, I thought for sure he had anal cancer. Turns out, he just needed his anal glands expressed. And the Gidge? She's been making herself and everyone else crazy scratching at her right ear for the last month. Turns out the poor thing had an ear infection. Both of them have rotting teeth which need some follow-up surgery, but other than that - we can expect the Snick Dude & the Gidge to hang around for quite some time.

So yes...three hours to learn they're healthy. Three hours to be granted piece of mind that all the things I thought might be, could be, probably were wrong with the dogs are all fine...normal even. That was until the crucial moment when it came time for them to be weighed.

I don't know about you, but the worst part of any doctor's appointment for me is that moment when I'm asked to step on that scale to update my charts. No matter that I hold my breath, or lean this way or that, the damn scale always comes back with a number higher than I think it should be. But, when it was time for the dogs to be weighed I was confident that each would be within a few ounces of where they always are. Gidge, although large for her breed has always hovered around 10 lbs and the Snick Dude, he's been a consistent 51-lbs for over 10 years now.

So imagine my surprise when the vet came back with Snicks weight at 66 lbs! That's a 15-lb jump in one year! Gidget wasn't much better - she jumped 3 lbs in the last 12 months. I'm sorry to say, sad to report, the spreading ass disease I've had for the last 20 years has now gone viral and spread to the dogs.

Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. They are about the laziest animals I know. They spend their days following sunbeams around the house and flopping down for an endless series of naps. In between naps, they snooze. And when they're not napping or snoozing, they're catching some zzzzz's, curled up in a dog bed, of which there are no less than 3 in our 2000 sq ft house. When they're not napping, snoozing or catching zzzz's, they're lounging about, lurking around the dinner table...hoping against hope that a little something-something might magically jump off our plates and come their way. Their routine is only interrupted to go outside to chase a mouse or explore the potato fields out back. Then, in for dinner and more napping, all the better to help with digestion don'tcha know. When they're tired of napping they go upstairs to bed, where after a good 9 or 10 hours of sleep they get up and start it all over again.

I don't know why in the world they've put on weight, do you?