Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Ban? Feeled.

Thank you, know it all lady who used to write printer drivers for Windows 95 (according to her statement to the customer ahead of me in line) at the second ubiquitous, yet feckless branch of a drive-thru veterinary office I attempted to go to today. 

Your simple assessment of the situation: peering at my dog's bothersome ass and stating "this will take more time than we have" saved me from returning to the closer outpost of the nonhelpful drive-thru vet branch office and unleashing a Basil Fawlty-caliber explosion of sarcasm and screeching on the bint who, on the phone, and then in person, when I shambled forward with a clearly very nervous animal in my arms, demanded "proof of rabies," which I could not produce.

Let's lay aside the fact that what you were actually demanding, in correct English, was a demonstrable case of frothy mouth and erratic possible lycanthropy. What you meant was, did I have a metal tag proving the dog had been inoculated against such. I did not. It has been lost to time and the woefully unkempt back yard of my hovel. 

My anger at this demand is many-hissing-headed. First, in a long history of animal ownership and various veterinary providers, I can't recall ever being asked for this before. Second, when I went to the other incarnation of the same place, they didn't mention a rabies diploma at all. Third, if you wanted to deal with sheer mathematics, the likelihood that this particular dog was rabid is so near to zero as to be, well, it's zero. Fourth, I'm certain this was a mere stalling tactic because you had only an hour and a half before closing and wanted to be certain you did as little as possible within that time. Fifth, it had nothing to do with the complaint I was presenting. Sixth, you have posted policies, both in cyberspace and in the harsh beast-laden realm of reality stating that sick and injured animals are seen first, and that you are "always accepting walk-ins," without any addendum of "unless you can't answer our irrelevant entry questions" or "invalid in case it's too close to closing and I'm unwilling to deal with you." I and my ailing animal walked in, and out again, without getting any assistance. Seventh, and perhaps most importantly, you, lady, aren't standing there with a tag around your neck, and yet we all accept as given the fact that you aren't rabid. Yet WHERE'S THE PROOF?

The dog wasn't rabid. She was uncomfortable, she did need medical attention, that still isn't solved. You know who's feeling rabid now? Me.  

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"You'd better stay away from him. He'll rip your lungs out, Jim."  - W. Zevon
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