Separation Anxiety

So, Ranger went to get his teeth cleaned a few days ago. For him it was a relatively simple and painless procedure, but not so for me - I was a wreck...

This is the first time that I have had him anesthetized in the 4 years that I have had him, and I was crazy paranoid and worried. When we got to the vet, he was fine until he realized that he was supposed to go off with the vet tech, and then he was like "Oh, HELL no". And, by the way, he weighs 105 lbs. And when he does not want to do something (i.e. get his nails cut, or go with an unfamiliar vet tech) he goes Ghandi and practices passive resistance. So, Ms. Well Meaning Vet Tech? That little shoestring of a leash you have just placed around his neck is not going to be sufficient to drag my dog's floppy, limp, flour sack of a body across the waiting area and into the back room...

Of course his reluctance to go with the vet tech broke my heart. Then when I got home, I realized that I have never been in this house without him here with me. Yeah, I was a little stressed. Gwen tried to make me feel better by being extra barky, smelly and annoying. But it wasn't the right kind of barky, smelly and annoying. So, I had perhaps just a touch of separation anxiety. (OK, OK, I got into the trash, and chewed the corner of the couch. And I pee'd a little. And Cesar Millan had to come put me into a calm-submissive state.)

Of course, Ranger came through fine. When I went to pick him up, the vet tech did tell me that Ranger still had a bandage on his leg that they had left for me to take off later tonight. Why? Apparently, Ranger wanted NOTHING to do with any of them. In addition to the floppy, flour sack passive resistance, he also does this thing where he somehow manages to pull all four legs under his body at the same time. If you pull one leg out, he immediately snaps it right back in. Since no actual growling, biting, or shooting blood from his eyes was mentioned, I got the impression there may have been some of the turtle-legs going on. Yes, my dog is a big dork. And I, being an even bigger dork than my dog is, cried when he was back with me in the car.

The icing on the top of this co-dependancy cake? While I am picking Ranger up, the vet comes out because he wants to show me a picture he took of Ranger with his cell phone. Apparently, my dog tried to climb into the vet office's laundry bin. He was scared, and he tried to cram all 105 lbs. of himself into this tiny little bin under the dirty laundry in an attempt to hide from everyone.

And that? Is simultaneously the funniest, and most heartbreaking, thing I have ever heard.