Yet another non-literary post from so-called Bookworm.
I took our dog to the vet yesterday morning to have a growth removed from her front leg. It was a small, benign growth; the main reason for removing it was because it itched and because if we didn’t remove it, it could, possibly, turn into something bad.
We went to a new vet this time. Though I had strong feelings of loyalty for our old vet, Dr. Testy Grumpy Socially Awkward, who once many years ago made a house call to help us with our dying kitty, I never really liked the clinic where she works. The place is huge and impersonal and they don’t take appointments. You just walk in and hope there isn’t a long line. And it ain’t cheap. So we decided to try this new vet who just started up his practice in our neighborhood earlier this year and moreover included the word “affordable” in the name of his practice.
The instant Riley and I walked into his office I knew we’d come to the right place. The vet came right out and introduced himself — “Bill” — and couldn’t have been more personable, friendly, and unassuming. Neither he nor the receptionist guilt-tripped me at all about the length of Riley’s nails or the fact that her vaccines were not up to date (not to worry: he took care of both while she was under the knife).
Now, here’s where the story gets good. When I arrived to pick her up after the surgery — which went totally smoothly, by the way, and Riley was a trouper throughout, bless her sweet doggy heart — Bill came right out to the lobby area, carrying a jar and a piece of paper towel. Full of enthusiasm, he told me that he got a great “margin” on the growth. I mean, he was really enthusiastic. He started opening the jar and went on some more about the margin. I wasn’t sure what he meant by margin, but the next thing I knew he was fishing something out of the jar with a pair of tweezers. Yep. It’s the growth. He set it on the paper towel for my viewing pleasure, pointing out the “margin” of healthy tissue surrounding it. Almost as an afterthought he asked me whether I was squeamish. “Not at all,” I lied gamely, and politely glanced in the general direction.
“I like to keep these,” he said. Swear to god, friends, those were his exact words. I like to keep these.
Oh ha ha! Can you imagine his gruesome collection of little jars? I felt like I was in the middle of a Far Side cartoon. I couldn’t help it: I burst into laughter. I would never have dared to laugh at our old vet but Bill and the receptionist were both totally cool and laughed with me.
Of course he doesn’t keep them because it’s some bizarre little hobby; he keeps them in case a biopsy should become necessary at some later date. But still! Our cats are due for shots, too, and I can hardly wait to go back.
14 Comments
Sounds like a terrific vet. And like a terrific person, too.
It all sounds a bit ‘Austin Powers; Goldmember’ to me, but sounds like a good vet all the same.
Friendly, non-guilting vets are a treasure. I’m so glad you found one.
We removed two lumps from our dalmatian a few years ago. The trauma of removing them caused two more lumps. So we left those.
Trust me, a good vet is worth his/her weight in gold. Possibly platinum. Sounds like you’ve got a keepr there :)
My ferrets’ vet has a hugs array of things she’s removed from various critters - guinea pig kidney stones, ferret hairballs, wheels from Happy Meal toys removed from the insides of lots of critters. It’s pretty neat if you’re not squeamish….
superb vet!
Well, I doubt that anything I write will surprise you anymore. I’m very into science (oh, yeah, those 2 science degrees of mine), always wanting a microscope as a kid soooooooooo when I had certain major surgery, I asked my dr. if I could keep certain parts…or at least see what they said removed parts looked like!I’m fascinated by that “stuff.” I recall the nurse telling me in recovery that she threw it out before seeing my chart, because it’s not a usual request. Poor thing, probably got reprimanded for not reading my chart… I’m so glad your dog is ok now!
Now that is funny. I’m glad it was your vet and not your dr., though.
Ha ha, I’m glad it wasn’t the doctor either!!! I don’t even like it when the mechanic gives me back the old car parts. However, I have kept my wisdom teeth. I think I was 19 when they were pulled, and I’ve kept ‘em in a little red change purse ever since. Right here in the back of my desk drawer, as a matter of fact.
I like picturing his office full of little jars, too. I’ve always wondered where that sort of thing could wind up, and know I can picture it perfectly.
‘Now I can picture it perfectly’, I mean. I think I’m past my typo-curfew again.
Ella–
Your “office full of little jars” gave me a Frankstein/mad scientist image to work with, and with my tendencies for low humor, in my version one of the jars is labeled ‘Abby Normal’ a la Young Frankenstein. But with that in mind, what if we’ve got this whole ‘bone [and tissue] collector’ thing wrong? What if Mr. Nice-vet isn’t really Mr. Nice-vet? Is there a room somewhere with those mad scientist things that have a giant electric spark/arc between them?
Hey, maybe the actual Frankenstein should be a book club selection–I’d read it too if you guys went for that. I love the story behind the book–Mary Shelley’s mom being Mary Wollstonecraft, who lived well but tragically, and Mary Shelley being part of that circle of artists and writers, and Frankstein and Dracula being the result of a competition held on a weekend get-a-way, to tell a scary story. Or something like that–if I’ve got that wrong, sorry.
Plus, seems like (based on my very limited knowledge of it) the man/science vs. God/nature themes are still kinda relevant.
Anyway.
It was really nice to have Riley’s nails clipped without having to feel guilt. A vet who’s nice to people as well as the animals is a definite plus.
You KNOW I was going to comment on this. but what to say? Bill is SO my kind of guy. Have Joey draw up a comic of Bill saying “I like to keep these” and behind him are shelves of oozy, drippy “things.”
Update: in today’s mail there was a nice hand-written card welcoming us to their practice. “You don’t know the half of it,” I thought to myself.
And yes, doule, I was absolutely expecting your comment. ;)
Ha. My bookclub did in fact do Frankenstein last year. Last October, in fact. I was the discussion leader and became totally sidetracked (but fascinated) by Mary Shelley’s life. I should do a blog post of my own on it so I can use all of the cool links I found.
The book was ok, but not half as bizarre and entertaining as Mary’s actual life. I’m surprised no one has made a movie out of that.
Our vet has a big yellow lab in the office that lays with the animals to keep them warm after they’ve had surgery. It is the absolutely sweetest thing ever.