I checked the schedule this morning and was very pleased to see Rocco on the docket for a neuter. A sweet and allergy prone pup, he had been scheduled and re-scheduled for this neuter about three times.
My pleasure quickly turned to disappointment when our drop-off time came and went, with no Rocco.
I called the owner. “We missed you guys today,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Oh….” said the wife, somewhat sheepishly. “I couldn’t find him this morning.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Is he lost? Did you call the shelter?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “I called my husband.”
Apparently Rocco’s dad has been a tough sell on this whole neuter thing since day one, and was the reason his appointment had been canceled several times already. Every time we tried to broach the subject with this guy, his hands would fold protectively in his lap as he shook his head. Mom had made the appointment without his knowledge, but we blew her cover with our standard confirmation call the night before. So dad dog-napped the dog and took him to work.
It would be funny if it weren’t so frustrating. The dog is an allergy machine! He’s a terrible specimen of a breed that is already extremely over-represented in our area, and in the shelters. There is NO need to breed this dog.
While we were talking, Rocco’s mom suddenly said “SHHHHHH!!” and I heard a bunch of static. Then, in a hushed whisper, “I’m in the closet. They just walked in the door. I want to re-schedule for next week.”
At least she’s on board, I suppose. See you next week, Rocco. I hope.