Fixing my Pup Jitters

By Cal Orey


Tomorrow morning at 7:30 A.M., my one-year-old Aussie pup Skye will arrive the vet office to be de-sexed.  As a human, I've been here before but this time around I'm a bit anxious. My baby boy is going to be n-e-u-t-e-r-e-d. I didn't have the heart to tell him...

I did purchase a cool collar so he looks like a handsome canine character straight out of Titantic. And, of course, I gave it a test run and told him he looked like a bold lion. He believed me and adapted.

December 1, Sunday is his birthday, I vow to get him toys: new balls (oops, a Freudian slip), new bone, new Kong toy--whatever he wants. It's his. I'm having neutering remorse. After all, he comes from an excellent line, congenital testing has been done with parents...Skyler would be a more than doable stud but...no matter. Tomorrow, snip. Done.

Okay. Let's be practical. This operation is easy. I've been there with three Brittanys. I can do this; he can do this. It's not a big deal. We have a young, healthy, strong boy! My vet has been with us for more than a decade. No worries.


Skyler's mom anf dad would be proud of him. He's got his mother's markings; his father's smile and vibe. I sense they understand that this operation is for his health, happiness, and to ensure a long, quality life...



Meanwhile, my boy sleeps next to the fireplace. I will make him fires next week it the temps drop. He's looking at me. I wonder if he knows that I know that he knows what's happening tomorrow. No matter. It will be done. We will survive. I hope he doesn't give me the silent treatment. I realize now that I have given my heart to another dog.