As soon as we near the vet’s office, Guinness goes into hysterics. He is way too happy to be there. After dragging me into the building, he attacks the closest people with jumps and licks, then hops on his hind legs at the counter to say “hello” to the staff on the other side. The owner of our clinic is always a riot. He used to say that Hershey didn’t seem to know he wasn’t supposed to like him. But I would tell him that Hershey adored him and was thrilled to see everyone at the vet’s office including the mean doctors. “Thrilled” does not begin to describe Guinness’s ecstasy. Overzealously euphoric is more like it. They are his long lost best friends whom he thinks are as excited to see him as he is to see them. This elder vet comes off with one-liners about Guinness which I can never remember two minutes later. The only ones that stuck with me are the ones he repeated frequently: “goofy” and “clown” plus his original term for him – “the Al Qaeda Terrorist.” He also characterized him as “a flea on a hot brick.” He told Guinness that he is nothing like his predecessor. I chimed in that Hershey was a gentleman. He totally agreed, then added, “Guinness doesn’t know when he has poo in his mouth.” That’s for sure! He managed to wrestle him to a non-jumping position in order to weigh him – 78.6 pounds. Being the most adept of the vets, he gave bouncing Guinny a shot and checked out his orifices in record time. As we left, he commented that Guinness might be slightly calmer in a year.
This pose was taken before one final leap to lick doc's face.