DOG SITTING

“Ok you need to inject the needle into her anus,” he said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You need to inject the needle into her anus.”

The owner of said anus was a german shephard named Bessie. I was dog sitting for my friend and the dog died. I know, right? First rule of dog sitting, don’t kill the dog. Before you start to hate me, let me say that this dog was old and very very sick. The owners knew the end was near, but still, it happened on my watch. Plus whenever anyone’s pet dies, it’s sad. What made it worse is that the owners are the biggest pet people I have ever met. They kiss dogs the way Richard Dawson kissed contestants on Family Feud.

I like pets, but I wouldn’t call myself a dog person or a cat person. I’m more of a “Sure-let’s-go-to-Vegas-because-I-don’t-have-a-furry-ball-and-chain-who-loves-me-becauase-I-control-their-food-supply” person.

I was at there house and everything was fine. I remember looking over and seeing Bessie, who never moved, all of a sudden violently moving her arms and legs (well just legs, dogs don’t have arms). She was having a seizure and it was scary. Really scary. I had no idea what to do, so I called the owner who said, “You need to calm her down, you need to give her a shot of valium.” I almost gave myself the shot I was freaking out so much.

“You need to give it to her in the butt.”

I had to Pulp Fiction this poor dog in the pooper. The problem with seizures is that they make everything on the inside of you try to get out. There was crap everywhere. I had to time the shot so when I went in, there wouldn’t be anything coming out. I did it, but she was still shaking. I knew I had to take her to the vet, so I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulders (which made me feel like a man) and started bounding down the driveway. Poor Bessie, she just kept shaking and pooping, it was a mess.

Now I know there’s nothing funny at all about any of this, but try and imagine their neighbor who was watering her gardenias at the time. All of a sudden she sees this man, with a shaking dog over his shoulders, running directly at her and screaming, “Open the door!”

We got her into the back seat and I drove to the vet at a speed that still freaks me out when I think about it. When I got there, I kicked open the door, which in hindsight I really didn’t have to do because no one was there, and shouted, “My dog is having a seizure!” The nurse yelled, “We need a gurney, stat” and they took it from there.

Ten minutes later, a young doctor walked out and said, “I’m sorry. We’re going to have to put her down. You did all you could do, but she’s just very sick and old and it’s her time to go.” She asked me if I wanted to be there for the final moments. I don’t know if you have ever put a pet down, but it ranks up there as one of the saddest things in the world. Not as sad as going to your grandma’s funeral, but definitely way above playing Nintendo Wii by yourself.

The owners were really cool about everything. They knew better than anyone how much Bessie had aged the past few weeks. Still, there’s a conversation you never want to have.

“Hey how’s Bessie?”

“Oh, um about that…”