Our dog Jezebel has been waking up every morning with goo leaching from her eyes. Cal and I have been dutifully cleaning them every morning. But then she got a small sore just below her eyelid. Maybe she had an infection in her eyes. We decided she needed to see the vet, Dr. Walker.
Dr. Walker is a semi-retired, good ole Georgia boy. So everything is straight forward and no nonsense. We like that in people. He’s also cheap. We really like that. So, Cal took Jezzie in. Dr. Walker’s office hasn’t been redecorated since the ‘60s, but it’s clean. Jez strains at the leash in the office not because she’s eager to get out the door, but because there are so many amazing smells and she might not get to sniff them all.
Jez isn’t afraid of Dr. Walker, unlike our previous dog Jill—who was tough, but terrified of vets. Jez’s biggest fear is that Dr. Walker might not stroke her head or scratch her tummy enough before it’s time to go home. Jez got a stroke or two while Dr. Walker checked out her eyes.
Dr. Walker turned to Calvin: “Your dog’s got allergies.”
Dr.: “She’s got allergies—the pollen count’s real high.”
Dr.: “Just wash her eyes every morning.”
Dr.: “Oh, and that leash you have’s no good. Here take this one.”
Cal: “How much do I owe you?”
Dr.: “The leash and visit are free. There wasn’t anything wrong with the dog.”
Thanks Dr. Walker! My only complaint is that if anyone comes over and asks what’s wrong with Jez’s eyes, I have to say, “She has allergies.” That sounds wimpy. I’d rather say, “She has uber-gross-dog-eye-disease.” That sounds much cooler. Or not.