Dr. Parks

I went to the vet today.  I took my boy Trouble in for his cortisone shot, which helps relieve his asthmatic symptoms.  I was relieved when we arrived and there wasn't the usual cramped waiting room.  I was having a good day.  I knew my boy would be feeling better in a short while.  I had my work day planned out, and I was humming along Christmas tunes that played only in my head. 

As I waited to be called I saw a couple come in cradling a tiny puppy.  He was wrapped in a baby blanket and he was dry heaving.  They explained to the receptionist he was a a dog they had bred and he was unable to keep his food down.  Looking at the puppy's tiny brown face in all its agony was heart-wrenching.  But this was Dr. Park.  The vet I visit and trust.  Like a baby brought into the hospital with all its medical professionals, I had faith this pup would be fixed.  VOILA!

I didn't mind that they rushed him right back.  I was happy to wait.  Trouble and I sat on the hard chairs enjoying one anothers casual company.  Just us two in a lobby that generally has 20 people waiting.  A short while later I was brought back and we were attended to by another visiting vet.  Through the thin walls, I could still hear the dog gasping for air.  I could hear the murmured conversations among staff and nurses.

I was tensing up with frustration.  Frustration with people who breed animals.  It's a supply and demand thing I guess.  I don't know that I have a problem with people buying pure-breds, although paying for an animal when so many are put to sleep each day is quite sad.  And what most people don't know is the host of health problems pure-breds that come from a backyard breeder have.  Those that don't come from the licensed folks. 

A short while later Trouble and I were ready to get on the road.  His lungs were open and he was pleading with me for a nap with his mutt-siamese eyes.  I went to pay the receptionist who was on the phone.  I overheard her telling the couple who had now left that their puppy was being put to sleep.  This puppy I had seen only 30 minutes before with its dark brown eyes and tan face.  He was being gassed.  That's literally what she said.  I mean, she wasn't intending to hurt their feelings, just being honest. 

I felt my throat swell as I peered past her into that back room.  This office is quite small, and knowing the puppy was just beyond her empathatic voice made me feel.... sad.  Had I been able to swipe my atm card a minute sooner I would have left feeling that all was just and right in the world, or at least at Dr. Park's on that day.

Is it anyone's fault?  No, of course not.  I left wondering if this couple would breed their dogs again- was this devastating to them?  Or was this just an odds game?  They had, after all, left the offices just after dropping the puppy off and had to be notified via phone.  Had they waited, they could have known the moment it became too late to save the poor little guy.  But those curiosities aren't mine to have, they are theirs.