Mood:
d'ohTopic: humor
Though vet school I did not attend
It would seem it's my cross to bear
The blood, the gore, the late-night calls,
The cat and llama hair --
The veterinarian life is one
I guess we're meant to share.
My fridge shares space with Ivomec,
And vials filled with red.
The laundry - it smells like heck!
We have cupboards full of meds.
All our pens and coffee mugs
And even shirts and knives
Bear the stamp of name-brand drugs,
Flea dips, Purina, Iams.
In plastic wrap in our garage
Is something marked "sample."
It's brown and from the neighbor's dog,
And we give it leeway ample.
The kids and I, we know the drill:
The vet brings home his lot
Of sights and smells that HE's used to,
But that we'd rather NOT.
My husband loves those cows and dogs,
They are his fascination.
What's curious is that narry a pet
Of OURS meets vaccination.
But oh, how Snuggles, Buddy, and Lazy
Have seen their lion's share
Of needles, pokes, and prods
And shaving of their hair!
The kids and I have seen it all,
From insides hanging out
To fractures, neuters, and declaws,
From tail to hoof to snout.
We've assisted with procedures
And even delivered pups.
(Dogs don't know it's Christmas Eve
And the clinic closes up.)
But far more irritating
Than the yick stored in our home
Or the things done to our pets
Or that midnight-ringing phone,
Is that sense I get from people
Who call when Doc's not there
And assume that I have the answers
To all their animals' care.
It never seems to fail,
Whether on vacation or on a jog,
If someone sees me coming,
Their greeting is, "I have this dog..."
happy
lyrical
accident prone