A happy, albeit indignant, ending
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there is someone for every dog. Even if you could not possibly understand how someone could live with the snorting pug/the yelping chihuahua/the loud Dobie, someone else not only understands, but adores it.
Skippy came in for one last visit today.
I had offered to get him caught up on his boosters for his new owners, one last time to see him before he headed off into the great wide yonder. When last I saw him, he was a vaguely Yoda-like creature (or maybe Salacious Crumb would be a better descriptor?) heading out the door with nary a glance over his shoulder.
He arrived today looking like this:
He’s cute! He looks like a real Maltipoo now! Not sure why he looks so scared. Maybe he thinks he is about to be strangled?
I went in to greet him and his owners, who are so cute and sweet. Skippy was sitting in his mom’s arms. I gushed, “Hey Skippy! Remember me?” and reached my arms out for a hug.
He turned around and buried his head in his mom’s elbow.
His mom gasped in embarrassment, and I admit to being a bit nonplussed- I mean, come on kid, you have no idea what I went through for you- but truth be told I was also very happy. Happy that he had so thoroughly bonded with his family, and they to him.
I could see in the way they spoke to him that the adoration was mutual. He was to them was Emmett was and I hope Brody will be to me, a perfect fit. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Except a teeny bit of gratitude, I suppose.
In retaliation I gave him a Bordetella vaccine and cleaned his ears. No wonder he doesn’t like me. Don’t worry Skippy, you’ll be transferring to their regular vet from now on and I will be but a vague bad memory. 
