Wuff with the Smooth: Committed owner

I will have mentioned this before, but our Waffle is a sensitive little bugger.

His stomach is sensitive to all but his expensive, vet-prescribed kibble. His skin is sensitive to all but the most luxurious cleansing lotions. And his feelings are the most sensitive aspect of his entire being.

Prior to welcoming Waffle into our home, I’d had to Google the breed, ‘Cockachon’ as I’ve never before suspected a cross between a Bichon Frise and a Cocker Spaniel was a thing.

But a thing, he was.

My research always threw up the same two phrases, ‘great with kids’ and ‘very sensitive’.

The ‘great with kids’ aspect was obviously going to be a plus seeing as how there are two little humans in the house and in terms of ‘sensitive’ I thought, “Sure, I’m quite sensitive – he and I will be like soul mates.”

How naïve was I?

Last month all of Waffle’s sensitivities came home to roost. His sensitive stomach resulted in an allergy flare-up which resulted in an ear infection.

His sensitive skin shtick kicked off, resulting in an ever-present itchy dryness on his tummy. And his sensitive feelings almost had me ringing my own doctor and asking for stronger blood pressure medication.

Ultimately, a trip to the vets was in order and so the Waff and I set off post-haste, determined to cure everything once and for all, as well as spending a small fortune in the process.

To give them their dues, the people at the vets are lovely.

They are unfailingly caring, spectacularly knowledgeable and they always welcome Waffle in with open arms.

The truth was, I could have been doing with a hug myself seeing as how Waffle whinged the whole way to the vets; a high-pitched keening you might imagine from a wolf who’d just stubbed his toe. Nothing I said could make Waffle shut his mouth and so by the time we landed at the vets, I was hoarse from roaring and rightly ready for the mental.

Inside the surgery, after we’d checked in and after Waffle had sniffed around, another dog arrived.

A big furry Bearnese Mountain dog cross, it was as big a pup as I’d ever seen and I was duly impressed. Waffle, not so much.

For his part, Waffle decided he didn’t like the look/smell/attitude of the big pup and so set about straining at his leash while whinging and whining like he was trying to win the world championships. In fact, the only way I was able to stop the whining was by lifting Waffle up and nursing him like a wean. Even then, he threatened to whinge from time to time but because I was holding him, I was able to apply some exacting pressure to the back of his neck with my thumb so as to break the trance. I may also have threatened to ask the vet to give him a lethal injection if he didn’t sort his ship out.

Eventually we were called into the consultancy rooms by one of the nice vets and we went through the usuals about Waffle’s allergy flare-up. Thankfully Waffle had quit the whining and thankfully the vet didn’t mention anything about me giving Waffle those digs in his spine with my thumb every time he threatened to whinge.

However, as we were going through the necessaries, the vet started to read through some notes from a previous visit.

She did this by reading the notes in a low voice as she skimmed through them.

“Itchy ears. Second course of (???). Last seen in May…”

Then she said something which made me smile.

“Very committed owner.”

I’m fairly sure she was referring to me when she said this but at the same time, I remained surprised. She obviously hadn’t heard me screaming at Waffle to ‘shut your hairy trap before I stick my boot in it’ as we were driving to the surgery. Nor did she read my mind when I thought of the lethal injection – or even noticed me giving him those digs in the spine.

Back at the house with yet another vial of ear meds and yet another bottle of special shampoo, the first thing Herself asked me was, “How did Waffle get on?”

“I don’t know – grand, I suppose,” I replied off-handily. “But guess what… I’m a very committed owner.”