They don’t smell so good

When the Vet’s tech tells you “Um, not those ones, they don’t smell so good.” Take her word for it.

It turns out that while Squirt was ‘busting a move’ in the snow a few weeks ago, she pulled her iliopsoas – a teeny tiny muscle in the inner thigh that stabilizes the hip. When pulled, the pain is breath-takingly bad, is easily re-injured and generally takes forever to heal. As a result, we need to give her meds for the course of her healing.

The only problem is that Squirt doesn’t ‘do’ meds.

Hide them in whatever edible you wish, she will gingerly nibble away each bit of the treat and spit the pill across the room, with the same level of interest as an old man spitting chaw into a spittoon.

On a whim, and not looking forward to the battle of the meds, I asked about the Greenies Pill Pockets that were on display, opting to try them since we’d tried everything else. They had three flavors available; chicken, beef and duck with pea.

Asking which was the most popular, the Cheryl, the tech replied that “Dogs really seem to enjoy the duck, but they don’t smell so good.”

Heck, if the dog gobbles them down and takes her meds, how bad could the duck really be?

I should have paid more attention to the look on the Cheryl’s face when I checked out.

We tried them with Squirt when we got home, expecting her to once again spit out her meds, but she didn’t. Drooling, she sat, raised her paw to shake, and tried every trick in the book, begged for another.

Charles and I were too amazed to notice anything but what the dog was doing.

JB and BW came into the kitchen asking what we were giving Squirt. Showing them the bag, we asked why.

“It smells,” they said, “and not in a good way.”

“Well, the Tech said they don’t smell so good.”

“Mama,” JB said “When the Tech says they don’t smell so good, I think that is polite for ‘they smell like… well, like…”

“Ass” contributed BW.

“Yes, ass.” confirmed the girl.

Indeed. We’ve discovered over the last few weeks that Squirt goes crazy for them; with the slightest rustle of the bag and she’s awake and running to the kitchen, ribbons of slobber forming at her mouth.

But the smell.

Oh my god the smell. It just won’t leave, no matter how many times you wash your hands, or the air freshener that you use. It is only a matter of time before the smell discipates, or you become numb to it.

It’s not the dog who dreads med time anymore.  I’m just hoping the beef one’s aren’t so ‘memorable’.

 

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