When readers comment Rollo is “so cute” I frequently have to go back and check the photo. Cute!? Well, yeah I guess, in a Rottie sort of way. What clearly gets lost in photos is his intimidation. No one gushes about cuteness in person. So far he’s stopped just about everyone in their tracks – which is very welcome after stupid people with their dogs have blithely approached my pitties.
But this included the vet. I mean, who wouldn’t pause when upon entering an exam room, a newly svelte-ish 90 lbs. Rottweiler lunges with a blank expression? Inscrutable. That’s the word I keep using to describe him. Rotties are notoriously hard to read, as sister Lori who’s had 17 of them reminds me.
So we figured we should sedate him for his checkup and round of shots. I wanted the vet to be comfortable and wanted to micro chip Rollo. Chip needles are pretty fat. Why take chances? Eleven days is a short time to acclimate a recalcitrant dog to a muzzle. I’d begun, but it added stress to a new relationship that was edgy to begin with. So the office woman had suggested not to bother, the vet would simply sedate Rollo, she said.
So I held reluctant Rollo as he got the sedative needle in his bum. He resisted the drug but staggered against the walls and twenty minutes later was prostrate on the floor.
The vet came in and moved to examine Rollo’s mouth. I meanwhile caressed Rollo’s ears and quietly crooned. The spirit of Rhineland resistance filled Rollo and faster then thought, he spun and bit me a generous full-mouthed chomp. This was the real deal, no warning here. I think I yelled “Hey! No!” which I suspect broke into Rollo’s sedative addled brain enough that he instantly released.
We had to use the leash and door to restrain Rollo for his extra sedative. The vet came in from the exam room’s second door, behind what looked like a Kevlar and aluminum shield. In another twenty minutes, we secured the muzzle on dozing Rollo and proceeded with the exam.
“What’s the chance Rollo will be a completely different dog, maybe psycho, when he wakes up?” I asked my vet. “Ten to twenty percent,” he said.
Yeah, he was muzzled but I was decidedly concerned when, alone and with a soundly bitten arm, I had to drag a very reluctant Rollo out of the back of the truck at home. I couldn’t get him chained to the wood stove fast enough! He intently chewed on the muzzle and that’s when, hoping for the best, I had to begin taking it off.
Most of the rest of the day was spent in the E.R. to get the vet office bite attended to.