I think that I have stated this before: I have never owned a dog who loved going to the veterinarian’s as much as Betty Zing does. I mean, she LOVES going there. This evening, we went, and she was just too excited. We waited in the car for the vet-tech to come out and get her, and every time it was another pet’s turn, she cried and cried like a little rejected and neglected puppy. However, at long last, it was her turn, and she literally dragged the vet-tech into the animal hospital. A while later, the vet called me to report and then casually said, “It’s gonna’ be a little while before she’s brought back out to you. Word has gotten out that Betty Zing is here and we all just love her, but not everyone has had a chance to greet her, and of course she has to greet EVERYONE (which we don’t mind), and, and … oh… oh! She just spied Joe coming out of surgery, so now she HAS to go greet him, too….” Never mind that she was there for a seemingly chronic ear infection and to get her nails clipped. As far as Betty Zing was concerned, she was at a party. And now she’s fast asleep: too much partying at the animal hospital, I guess.
All posts by Carol Robinson
Betty Wants to Know
BETTY ZING: So, Darling, tell me the story of your life. I really want to know, everything!
It’s Real, Sorta’
Poor Betty Zing has been suffering a false pregnancy this week.
Yes, that’s a real thing. Her mammaries are swollen, and she’s whining and nesting in various corners of the house.
Suddenly, many of her toys have turned from being “prey” (that she gnaws and tosses about) to being “babies” (that she licks and protects), such as with her rubber chicken (above). (See also Scott’s version of the matter.)