Sasha Goes To The Vet

On my calendar it said, 'Sasha, Vet, 9:30, bring poop'.  One of my favorite things is to walk into the veterinarian's office with my bag of dog poop, and ask, "Who ordered a bag of shit?".  They all politely smile, and a few of the employees even chuckle. I've been going to the same vet for over twenty one years, and I'd hope they would at least pretend my joke is funny. I know it's not.

Unfortunately for Sasha, this time I forgot the poop. Earlier I had thrown her morning dump into the garbage can, thinking at the time how convenient it was that today is garbage day, and that the can is right out front. For Sasha it meant that they'd have to dig for it. It was a procedure that the vet techs had done over and over, but I got the distinct impression they didn't like it. 

One tech lifted Sasha up onto the table, while the other tech took a long slender spoon out of a wrapper.
"What is that for?", Mark asked.
"They have to dig some poop out of her butt."
Mark is a very squeamish man. He gags at the sight of any bodily fluid, so just as the tech started digging, Mark gasped and ran out of the room. This was followed by a loud yelp from Sasha, and a equally loud yelp from the tech. Sasha had bitten her.

I felt really bad. It was after all, my fault. If I had remembered the bag of dog shit, Mark wouldn't be out in the waiting room wretching up a lung, Sasha wouldn't be standing there with a spoon up her butt, and the vet tech wouldn't be bawling me out for consoling Sasha.
"By doing that you are just rewarding her for biting me .", she scolded.
At least with all this ruckus, it's been burned into my memory. The next time I will definitely remember to bring the poo bag. And when I do walk in with it, I expect that vet tech to at least pretend my 'Who ordered the bag of shit' joke is funny.