The other day I went to the vet to get my shots, or at least that's what they told me. Turns out I got a lot more than that. He examined me thoroughly. I even got my temperature taken with a rectal thermometer. (The indignity of it.) Then I got two needles. Now being a true wire fox terrier, I didn't gripe when he took my temperature. I didn't cry when I got the needles. I didn't bark or whine. I didn't even bite anybody!
But no matter how bad all that was, it paled in comparison to ............... the scale. They tried to get me to stand on the scale. It was a metal thing on the floor with a rubber mat on it and a screen with numbers. Like any self-respecting female, I wanted no part of it. So I fought them tooth and nail, gripping in my paws on their waxed tile floor so that they could not budge me. When they finally dragged me onto it, I walked right off! Don't they have it in my file that I have an aversion to scales? Finally, they were able to hold me down on the scale long enough for the numbers to stop changing so that they could get a glimpse of whatever number it settled on for a microsecond. It wasn't pretty.
Now I am on a diet and life isn't as much fun as it used to be. Instead of eating things like this....
(I won't explain this picture.)
(I won't explain this picture either.)
I am now eating this, or I should say, not eating this. (I am on a hunger strike.)
My mom even hid my regular treats on Grandpa, so he has to give me these low cal versions.
What have I ever done to them? I love everybody, even the vet. I give kisses to everybody. And now, look at how I am being treated. I could scream.
Tell me, do I look that fat? I'm just long, or big-boned, like Jackson says. Why don't they understand that? After all, they can lose a few pounds themselves, too.
But at least I was invited to join Jackson's Substantial Wire Fox Terrier Club! There is always a bright side.