It was Buds turn to go to the Vet to get his shots.
In the waiting room, he vacuumed the floor with his nose, sucking up every smell.
He’s stoic in the Vet’s office, doesn’t blink as they take his blood, check his teeth and stick him with needles.
He might be tired from the vaccinations the doctor tells me. But I know when he gets home he’ll be outside chasing the squirrel in the maple tree and barking at the Amish horses and wagons going by.
On the way out he sniffs some more as I wait at the counter to get his rabies tag and pay the bill. I keep an eye on him, knowing when he sniffs so intensely he has a purpose. If I catch him I can stop him, with a firm Eh-Eh, from leaving his mark.
I just glance at my wallet to get my credit card and in that moment, out of the corner of my eye, I see him expertly lift his leg and pee on the moulding around the door, before I can utter a sound.
It tell Sam, as she prints out a receipt, but she’s seen it all before.
I imagine it’s a favorite spot to for dogs to lift their leg as they leave the office. A “last laugh” good bye.
