Poor Gavin

Our poor old boy has always been a nervous wreck at the Vet’s office, in crowds, and in new situations. He’s our worrier, our “thinks too much” dog.

Yesterday he had his six month check up. He doesn’t mind riding in the van as long as when we stop we are at home. We weren’t, we were at the Vet’s office. I left the van running, the AC on, and on the radio/cd/mp3 player some Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo…

I went inside to let them know we were there.

Shortly after that I went out and got him. He did not want to get out of the car. I had to coax him with a cookie. I swear he blew enough coat to knit another dog while we waited.

“Meany moopants Momma taked me to the dogtor. I don’t likez to go dere eber. I stickz my tongue out at her.”

Numz are good