Meeting Mr. Snip

I learned a long time ago that minor surgery is when they do the operation on someone else, not you. ~Bill Walton, American former basketball player

Monkey here.

Been missing me??

Well, I’d have rather been anywhere than where I’ve been for the past few days.

Mama took me to the dogtur, who promised to introduce me to somebody named Mr. Snip.

Trust me when I say, You don’t want to meet him.

I won’t go into the details — you can look it up if you’re curious — but a half-hour later and I’m without a few of my (ahem) parts.

Parts that I’d grown rather fond of over the past 11 months.

The first indignity was having to forego breakfast. I’m a pup who needs his nourishment, doggone it, and having to fast wasn’t any fun.

Then Mama drove me to the dogtur’s. I’m still not fond of riding in a car, so I protested — loudly — despite her efforts to comfort me by talking, playing music, and stroking my back.

When we got to the dogtur’s, Mama left me there. Alone. Just reminded me to be good and turned away.


I was there all day while they did all sorts of awful things to me — shaving me down there, sticking an IV into my arm, slicing into me, removing my parts, and so forth.

Kinda makes you cringe, doesn’t it?

After a long while, Mama came back, but I couldn’t focus on her. You see, they’d tied this plastic lampshade to my neck, and I couldn’t shake the thing off. I did, however, run it into walls and furniture, making as much noise as I could.

Mama says I was in La-La-Land for much of the evening. I kept looking at her with the saddest expression I could muster, hoping she’d relent and take that horrid “necklace” off me, but no. So when opportunity presented itself, I gave it a mighty shake, and off it flew!

Mama wasn’t happy, and she tried putting little boy shorts on me. She said my predecessor, Mr. Practically Perfect in Every Way Dallas, wore them without complaint, but I’ll be the first to admit I’m not perfect, and I refused. Slipped right out of them two nights in a row while she was sleeping, hee-hee!

Then she tried putting a T-shirt on me — backwards — but that also failed. Gee, Mama, I’m not licking or bothering my wound, so stop hovering already.

Now I’m having to go outside on a leash to do my business. In my nice big fenced backyard. With Mama in tow.

I can hear the squirrels laughing.

Mama says this “procedure” is going to make me a better dog. That I’ll no longer have “objectionable” behaviors, and I’ll be protected against certain cancers.

Maybe, but if that Mr. Snip Guy had anything to do with the removal of my parts, I’m gonna find him and take a chunk out of his leg!

32 thoughts on “Meeting Mr. Snip

    • I’m trying, Miss Dawn, but Mama says “the neuters” (whatever that is) change a pup’s metabolism, and she doesn’t want me to get FAT. Huh! Personally, I’m gonna milk this for all it’s worth!

  1. OMG Monkey, I laughed all through this. You are a very witty writer-doggie!!!

    ” but a half-hour later and I’m without a few of my (ahem) parts.”…”You see, they’d tied this plastic lampshade to my neck, and I couldn’t shake the thing off.”…”Slipped right out of them two nights in a row while she was sleeping, hee-hee!”

    CRACKED. ME. UP.!!

    Hope you’re healing well, dear Monkey. And thanks so much for the morning laughs while having my coffee. You’re a RIOT!

    Oh, and tell Mama I said, “Hello and have a great weekend.”

    X to you both!

    • I’m glad you enjoyed my tale of woe, Mr. Ron. Tis all true, I’m sad to say. I’m feeling much better than the dogtur thinks I ought to be feeling though — she thinks I ought to be cooped up in my crate sleeping all day and all night. No fun in THAT!! Mama says to tell you to have a great weekend. xx

  2. Sounds like a perfectly horrible experience, Monkey! But we know Mama has your best interests at heart. 💙 And some day, I promise you this whole ordeal will become a very dim memory if it remains at all, and you will enjoy your freedom from pesky hormones, trust me!

    • What are pesky hormones, Miss Barbara? Mine weren’t pesky! Maybe to Mama, but not to me. What’s wrong with marking everywhere I walk so the other doggies know I’ve been there? And you’d think by now those dogturs would’ve come up with a better way of doing this whole procedure — lampshade, huh.

    • Mr. Frank, I do believe you’re right — I’ll never be Dallas, and that saddens Mama. Didn’t she realize you don’t get a dog to take the place of a former dog?? I’m my very own person, and I won’t be held to Dallas’s standards. Take that, Mama. Gee!

  3. Down here in Texas, we have all the sympathy for you in the world, and we have a little suggestion. How about this for a collar? It might not be any more comfortable, but at least it’s danged stylish!

    • That’s awesome, Miss Linda! I’m going to show it to Mama and see if she can find one for me. I’ve seen a cowboy hat tucked away in her closet, but something tells me she’s not willing to part with that. I’d rather have a new one anyway — thanks for the chuckle!

  4. Hahaha, poor Monkey! The cone of shame is the worst and I’m not surprised you shook it off! Never mind, you’ll soon forget you ever even had… ahem… parts and Mama will stop trying to humiliate you in front of the local wildlife… 😀

    • I’m going to forget I had parts?!? Hmm, not sure about that, Miss FF, but you strike me as an intelligent woman, so I’ll have to trust your knowledge. Yes, somebody surely by now should have devised something more civil than a cone of shame!

  5. Squirrels laughing–indeed! The indignity! I hope you will soon forget about your terrible ordeal and be off chasing those creatures. (Maybe instead of Mr. Snip!)

    • I have a LOT of scores to even up, Miss Kathy … starting with those chuckling squirrels. Nobody would try to remove their parts! And after I’ve warmed up on them, I’ll take after Mr. Snip. Seems like he’s due for a whooping too after all the poor dogs he’s altered.

  6. Oh, I can sympathize, Monkey! My mom did the same thing to me. I feel asleep, and when I woke up, a part of me was gone! I was afraid to go to sleep for weeks afterwards, because there was no telling what they were going to take next…… As for the “cone of shame,” you did the right things by getting rid of it. I ruined five of them before my family gave up on trying to make we wear on. Love, Finn

    • GOOD for you, Finn — we pups need to stick together! I haven’t had problems sleeping at night, but I don’t want to snooze much in the day (probably because they took my parts in the daytime). As for that cone of shame, shame on them for even thinking we’d acquiesce to something that ridiculous-looking, right?!?

  7. Oh, Debbie, this is absolutely genius the way you wrote this post coming from your pup’s point of view. You should be seriously proud of yourself for this one. The humor in it, and the reality of the situation allows the viewer to be Monkey. Profoundly well written and I so totally enjoyed this. Oh these poor animals and what they go through. I wish there was another way, don’t you?

    • Miss Amy, I Monkey wish there was another way for sure!! Mama says the healing and recuperating period is almost as difficult as the surgery, but what does she know? It’s not like they stole *her* parts, right?! Anyway, thanks for reading my post, and I’m glad you enjoyed it.

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