Clippy Clop
Today my dad and I took Cleopatra (Looks stunning in this picture, doesn't she? The true archetype of a labrador) to the vet for her much needed annual check-up that you can't really call annual because this is the first one in years. So that's that. She is not going blind (chelsea) and she doesn't have cataract or glaucoma...well they didn't test for that; but probably not. She has edema which if you spell wrong could make you think she:
a) has a stool stimulating product of sort
b) has the 4th Tool album
c) the crappy band
My dad thought the guy said she had "demons" in her eye. He was like "put some voodoo in that shit, man!" What she really has is excessive fluid in her glazzies which make her all teary and sad looking all of the time. It also makes your friends say things to you like "Hey! You know she's going blind?" (chelseaaa). So we got drops for like a million bucks a teaspoon for her to take every 8 hours for 2 weeks. She's due for her next drops in about 3h15m.
The vet also threw out the word "fatty tumor" like it waddin nuttin. He felt her back and he's like "yeah...the dog's got a fatty tumor". I said "TUMOR?" But he said it wouldn't hurt "the dog" unless it got bigger and then we'd have to get it removed. This guy was so callus. He was literally leaning on my shoulder to steady his arms when he was putting the drops in her eyes. And the drops look like something the Ninja Turtle's would've swam in. That shit is flourecent and green and glowy. Makes Cleo look ca-razy. Oh, and learn my dog's sex & name, please. He kept referring to her as "the dog". I mean c'mon, we're not in Harlem. And I don't know if thats even still cool there anymore to just refer to people and things as "dawg". Maybe he thinks he's being hip. I think he's an imbecile.