Zola is my soul in animal form. Seriously, it’s like my entire existence is wrapped up in chubby animal form. We have the same personality quirks, annoying habits, and various stupidities. Remember how I had a mysterious mass inside of me? Well apparently we also suffer the same health issues because some foreign object decided to take up residence on Zola’s body. I took her to the vet and they told me to “ignore it and see what happens.” Excuse me? This is my favorite medical advice ever. In fact, maybe I should be my own doctor because this is the sort of thing I tell myself all the time.
Unfortunately her mass just kept growing. The vet decided it was time to literally cut that shit out.
They warned me she’d be a little woozy afterwards and probably have a hard time keeping food down. They recommended a few days of rest and to be careful for a couple weeks until the stitches were removed. Yeah right. Zola is my patronus and we laugh in the face of medical advice. She came home hyper as hell. I kept hoping she’d develop some sort of medically induced fatigue or something to warrant a cone of shame, but no. The dog is a B E A S T. I don’t think she even realized a chunk of her body had been cut off.
The vet also gave me a bag of herbal sedatives to help Zola with her latest bout of crazy. I’m not sure where she gets it but she’s decided to develop anxiety and howl at 2AM every night. The first night she did this, I felt terrible. I went downstairs and told her how much I love her and then left a 90’s playlist going on my iPad.
The second night, I threw the covers off, stormed downstairs, and glared into her kennel with eyes of death. She looked up at me with bored eyes, like “oh hey, did you need something?” I love the shite out of that dog but in that moment I was ready to open the front door and tell her to go find a new family.
I crawled back up the stairs and made sure to wake Alex up with my groaning and thrashing.
“We can never have a baby,” I whispered. “I’ll try to give it away in the middle of the night.”
The herbal treats were supposed to fix this. They told me to give her one before bedtime, which means I gave her two, because I like abusing drugs. Later that night she howled me out of my REM cycle. Herbs were not enough for this animal so I called the vet and she wrote a prescription for Xanax. I felt like a scamming teenager when I went to pick it up at the pharmacy.
“Hi, I’m here to get some narcotics. For my dog. THEY’RE FOR MY DOG OKAY.”
That night, I gave Zola a Xanax. As I drifted to sleep I tried not to think about the dog we almost killed in China by giving it beer and NyQuil.
The next morning I woke to the glorious realization that Zola hadn’t made a peep. I floated downstairs, stretching like a well-rested Disney princess– then I saw the shredded bits of foil and filth all over my floor. That ailing beast of the night had somehow managed to get the bag of herbal tranquilizers off the countertop and eat every last one of them. It should have been enough to sedate her for a month of nights, but there she was—tail wagging, rope in mouth, ready to be chased all over the house.
“I guess she got the munchies,” Alex said.
In anticipation of explosions, I pre-emptively dosed her with Xanax on the 4th of July.
She was completely unfazed when we got home from watching fireworks. She pranced about the house, picking up stray socks in her mouth and stopping to smell our crotches every so often. The next morning I stumbled down the stairs to find ANOTHER package of treats completely destroyed. Those things are like $7 a bag—I cannot afford the cravings of her drug habit. I disciplined her with a very disappointed look but she was too busy staring intently at the wall, licking the paint. I think she has a problem, you guys. Which pretty much means I have a problem. Because whatever one of us does… the other is sure to follow.
Does your pet have a similar personality to your own? Is your dog this annoying? Have you ever drugged your pet?
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