“Rupert!” exclaimed Billy Ray, the black-and-cream dachshund, to his piebald patterned brother. “I just overheard Mom and Dad. Today is the day we go to the veterinarian for our checkups.”
“Oh no!” replied Rupert, lifting his head off his comfy bed where he had parked himself after breakfast. “I do not like going to the veterinarian.”
“How come?” Billy asked.
“I don’t like the car ride. I don’t like the cats in the waiting room. I hate the slippery metal exam table, and I especially despise that tattooed assistant who talks about me as if I were an idiot.”
“I don’t mind any of that,” Billy said matter-of-factly. “In fact, I sort of enjoy all that attention.”
“Most of all,” Rupert continued, “I hate the Xanax the vet insists Dad feed me an hour before we leave the house to calm me down. I don’t like feeling drugged or out of control.”
“But Rupert," Billy said earnestly, "you are out of control whenever you visit the vet. The first time I went with you, I heard Dr. Jones told Dad that, of all the dachshunds he has treated in the last 40 years, you are the most anxious and the worst behaved. Why, you peed and pooped all over him and his assistant, and all they were doing at the time was weighing you!”
“I hate that stupid scale, too,” Rupert added. "It always adds a pound."
“You squirmed so much and screeched so loudly they had to muzzle you. I was embarrassed to be seen with you.”
Dad called from the kitchen. “Boys, I have treats for you! Come and get 'em!”
Billy scampered toward the kitchen but Rupert stayed put. Billy stopped, turned, and asked, “Aren’t you coming to get your treat?”
“It’s a trick,” Rupert replied. “Dad has wrapped mine around a Xanax.”
“Oh come on,” Billy said. “Admit you need it.”
“All right,” said Rupert reluctantly. “I’ll accept the treat. But I’m going to eat around that Xanax and, when Dad isn’t looking, am going to spit it out.”
“Suit yourself,” said Billy.
Two hours later, Billy Ray, Rupert and their Dad returned home from Dr. Jones’ office.
“Dad,” Billy called after his father who, having removed his clothes the moment he walked into the house, was running toward the bathroom. “Aren’t you going to pick up this pill on the floor?”
“Of course I will,” his father yelled from the bathroom. “As soon as I take a shower to wash off Rupert's pee and poop. God, it’s disgusting.”
Rupert plopped onto his comfy bed. A moment later he was joined by Billy.
Wrapped around each other, the two little dachshunds, worn out by their great adventure, fell fast asleep.
