“Doctor, Doctor” – Charlee Visits a Therapist on #ThrowbackThursday

Doctor Doctor

I Don’t Know Why I Bark

Doctor: What makes you bark at your neighbor’s Chihuahuas?

Charlee: I don’t know. It must be a reflex.

Doctor: How does it make you feel to see the Chihuahuas?

Charlee: Irritated.

Doctor: Why do you think you feel irritated?

Charlee: Well, first of all, they wear bandanas all summer and silly kilt-type jackets all winter.

Doctor: Why does this irritate you?

Charlee: Maybe because they seem so prissy. And don’t forget, they start it all – the barking, I mean. They taunt me.

Doctor: How do you think the neighbors feel when the barking wakes them up?

Charlee: Mmm, probably not exactly thrilled.

Doctor: What is your goal in barking? What is it you feel you are accomplishing by barking?

Charlee: They need to know how silly they look wearing scarves. They are male Chihuahuas after all.

Doctor: Do you think perhaps you may be suppressing feelings of attraction?

Charlee: Boys wearing girls’ accessories? Absolutely not.

Doctor: Wasn’t your sister, Bandit, (may she rest in peace) part Chihuahua?

Charlee: She was. But my neighbors are nothing like Bandit. Bandit wore a denim visor.

Doctor: Have you been spayed?

Charlee: I am 10 years old. Is this question even relevant?

Doctor: How old were you when you were spayed?

Charlee: Is this a HIPAA violation? How much is my mom paying you? I think our time is up now. I gotta go potty.

Charlee’s Two Front Christmas Teeth

 

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Ith my gap notithable?

We all have heard the song “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth.” Well, my darling Charlee (RIP), being the Scottsdale dog she was, wanted dental implants this Christmas to ensure that her new teeth would stay in place without slipping when she barked at the neighbor Chihuahuas. I sure miss that funny girl (so do the neighbor Chihuahuas).

 

A National Pet Day Message to Mom & Dad

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From Charlee with love

To Mom:

I hate it when you travel and leave me at home. I miss you. That’s why I got in your suitcase. I was expressing my love and devotion. I didn’t mean to shed voluminous amounts of white hair on your expensive black suit just out of the dry cleaners.

And Dad just doesn’t understand when you leave me home with him. (I don’t mean to tattle. But, once when you were gone, he turned me pink when he tried to bathe me after letting me step in wet red paint from the NO PARKING ZONE refresher coat.)

To Dad:

Sorry, but you just don’t understand me like Mom does.

She bathes me in organic hypoallergenic dog shampoo with a hint of lavender scent, treats me with organic salmon and buffalo treats, cooks me organic chicken with red quinoa, wakes up in the middle of the night to take me out to potty, wakes up at 4 a.m. to feed me breakfast, lets me bark at dogs on TV without scolding me, tells me how smart I am when I remind her to brush my teeth every night, lets me nap on her yoga mat, runs to pet me when I whimper, lifts me on and off the sofa, lets me sniff the baby doves and quails, lets me chase the lizards … basically anything and everything I want.

I do like to watch TV with you though, Dad. It’s just that it gets old after six hours of non-stop sports and drama shows. (Mom knows I like the dog shows.)

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So, I Got Hurt This Morning

It all happened on my second walk around 8:30 a.m. My neighbor’s nine-year-old daughter was walking her two dogs. Technically, these little dogs are called Papillons. But to me, they look like long-haired Chihuahuas. And I hate Chihuahuas.

So, I barked. I may have barked a lot. Anyway, my mother was trying to pull me back, as I may have been a tad bit aggressive and feigned an attack on them. It just seemed that way. I mean, I would never attack, especially when the nine-year-old daughter and her mom always pet me and give me presents.

Anyway, I fell off the curb and howled. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. And, it was my bum leg.

“What have I done now?” I wondered, as my mother bent down and tried to examine the damage. I, of course, would not allow her to help — at all. Remember, Chihuahuas. I have a duty to continue barking as I intermittently howl in pain.

So, Mom just picked me up and carried me home, scolding me (rather unsympathetically, I would say) along the way. I was still barking. To any observers, it probably appeared as though I was a naughty dog.

So, we get inside. The leg does not seem to be broken. However, I have a dangling, bleeding dewclaw, and it hurts every time I move. My mother Googles “dangling dewclaw.”

“In case of bleeding, call vet.” Oh no! The vet?

So, she called the vet. Closed. (Hooray!!! 4th of July; Independence Day; a holiday!) Oops. Celebrated way too soon because my mother then called the Emergency Animal Clinic and described the situation. (Why, oh why, does there have to be an Emergency Animal Clinic?) They wanted to take a look. Of course. Why not? Let them take a look. Ugh.

So, my mother (my dad is always gone in the summer, and she has to do EVERYTHING) carries me to the car and drives me way up to the Emergency Animal Clinic at Scottsdale and Williams.

Did I mention that I hate going to the vet? You know what happens, and it did. Yes, the thermometer in places it just shouldn’t be. Anyway, guess what you do with a dangling, bleeding dewclaw.

“Oh, well, we will just spray some antiseptic on it, and yank it out.”

I nearly pottied on the floor. They were going to “yank out” the nail. Oh my goodness. I started panting. My heart rate skyrocketed. “Yank?” Sounds onomatopoeic. What a terrible thing to do to a dog all because of “Papillons.” (And did I mention that they had barked first? Really, they did.)

Sigh. I am at home now … recuperating. The vet said bed rest for five to seven days. That’s like telling my mother to go on bed rest … IOW, not happening. Energetic. Can’t miss anything. I mean, there are lizards and baby quails and a baby dove even.

Yes, and those awful Chihuahua lookalikes. But, I’m not one to hold a grudge. In fact, I can hardly wait until my mid-afternoon walk. I just hope no one notices my bandage.

“Doctor, Doctor” – Charlee Visits a Therapist

Doctor: What makes you bark at your neighbor’s Chihuahuas?

Charlee: I don’t know. It must be a reflex.

I Don't Know Why I Bark

I Don’t Know Why I Bark

Doctor: How does it make you feel to see the Chihuahuas?

Charlee: Irritated.

Doctor: Why do you think you feel irritated?

Charlee: Well, first of all, they wear bandanas all summer and silly kilt-type jackets all winter.

Doctor: Why does this irritate you?

Charlee: Maybe because they seem so prissy. And don’t forget, they start it all – the barking, I mean. They taunt me.

Doctor: How do you think the neighbors feel when the barking wakes them up?

Charlee: Mmm, probably not exactly thrilled.

Doctor: What is your goal in barking? What is it you feel you are accomplishing by barking?

Charlee: They need to know how silly they look wearing scarves. They are male Chihuahuas after all.

Doctor: Do you think perhaps you may be suppressing feelings of attraction?

Charlee: Boys wearing girls’ accessories? Absolutely not.

Doctor: Wasn’t your sister, Bandit, (may she rest in peace) part Chihuahua?

Charlee: She was. But my neighbors are nothing like Bandit. Bandit wore a denim visor.

Doctor: Have you been spayed?

Charlee: I am 10 years old. Is this question even relevant?

Doctor: How old were you when you were spayed?

Charlee: Is this a HIPAA violation? How much is my mom paying you? I think our time is up now. I gotta go potty.