Woof,
Greetings… though these tidings be sad in their sentiment. I must act quickly, as my masters may soon return and I would surely be punished, if they became aware of what I was up to. I wanted, however, to alert you all to the true dark nature of your good friends, Stash and Alexis.
This bright and sunny morning began much like any other morning but that soon changed in sudden and dramatic fashion.
As we left the house. in order for me to do “my business”, Stash led to me to his snazzy Toyota Highlander. He opened its back hatch and I could see clearly that my carrier was secured inside. “Oh boy! What a lovely surprise.” I thought. “We’re going for a ride.” My tail wagged in happy anticipation. Gently, I was lifted up and placed within my cozy, yet surprisingly comfortable porta-home.
Backing out of the garage, Stash paused momentarily in order to allow his attractive and very smart wife, Alexis, to also join us. With that having been accomplished, we were off. I didn’t know where we were going but I could only imagine. Perhaps we were traveling to Petsmart, to buy some yummy treats or, even better… to purchase a new chewie or maybe even a bright, bouncy ball. There was a chance that we might be going to a dog park, to meet and play with others of my frisky bent. I didn’t know our journey’s goal but I knew that it would surely be a happy one.
I felt the vibration of our car as it rumbled over uneven, pothole riddled roads… ravaged insidiously by winter’s merciless snow and ice. I expected a long ride and settled down, to dream of what happiness might be coming my way but before I knew it, I felt our auto come to a smooth stop. Hearing the two front doors of our car open and shut, the bright light of morning poured into my eyes, as its rear hatch was suddenly lifted. My leash clicked securely, as it was carefully attached to my snug, yet stylish collar. I was then placed, paws down, onto the cold, rough pavement of a parking lot. Squinting, my eyes were finally able to focus and I was able to see to the destination to which we had travelled.
It was the Vet! Holy crap!! Why were we here? Weren’t we just here, not so long ago?
I was led into the familiar front office of this facility and, as if expected, we were greeted. Yes, there were smiles everywhere and everyone spoke in comforting tones but I sensed that a quiet evil was afoot. A uniformed woman came out and escorted me to a back room. I didn’t want to go and dragged my feet but it was pointless… she was much bigger than me and she acted with a strong sense of deliberate purpose.
In the back room, there were others waiting. I was held down and then someone rudely pricked me with a syringe. It hurt a bit and I let out a yelp… this was quickly followed by a sense of unwelcome grogginess. My eyes grew heavy and then… there was blackness. I was unconscious.
When I awoke, I knew something was different. Very different indeed!!
My first inclination was to sniff myself… to make sure that all was OK.
It was at this moment that, with great horror, I discovered what the actual purpose of our visit to the Vet was. While I was asleep and vulnerably helpless, someone had gone and snipped off my family jewels!!! In their place, there was a sticky white bandage. The wind blew freely in the void that now existed between my still woozy legs and I felt nothing in my “special place” but a terrible ache. This ache was mirrored by the hurt I felt in my torn and broken heart.
Why had they done this horrible thing to me? Were these people really cold and heartless, sadistic monsters? Was this their idea of a prank or practical joke? Did they realize the terrible implications of what they had, in such a callous manner, done? Did it matter to them that I would never… ever… be able to sire a litter of eight or ten cute little Ozzies or Oz-Ettes?
Well, I’m a fatalistic pooch. What’s done is done and cannot be undone. I suppose that I’ll eventually get over this feeling of betrayal by my “loving” owners but I did want you folks out there to know just what kind of people these “friends” of yours really are. I still can’t believe that they would… oooooh… there’s a frisky grey squirrel, hopping merrily in our backyard. Uh… gotta go.
Ozzie
