Oh is there anything more fun than taking your dogs to the vet? Most of you probably have well-behaved dogs that enjoy public outings and act like civilized members of society.

I do not.

I had to take the worst behaving one this morning. And as always it was a nightmare.

Where do I begin? She whines constantly, the whole car ride there she whines. She drools, everywhere. She is 85 pounds of solid muscle (that’s what I keep telling myself–in reality she’s probably 65 pounds of fat and 20 pounds of muscle) and is awful on a leash.

And the topper…she poops on the scale almost every. single. time. It’s like she has no control over that bottom of hers. I get it, she’s nervous, but I can only apologize for the humongous pile of doody that she expels so many times.

Then when we’re waiting for the doctor it’s more whining, panting, drooling, climbing on me, expelling of hair. Luckily she didn’t drop anything else on the floor.

Also, please don’t steal my Faux Uggs [Fuggs]/Sweatpants style. It’s MINE!

Too sum up my visit, which was for what I thought was a deadly skin disease and a horribly hurt back leg, the vet basically said, “Ehh, I think it’s dry skin and she may have the beginning stages of arthritis. But her poop is immaculate and she’s a giant fat lard-o.” Ok, the vet didn’t say the last part, but I could tell she was thinking it.

Needless to say the pain and agony of taking a big, giant baby to the vet was all for naught.

I won’t even go into the story about the guy there with a Chihuahua that was not on a leash…ugh.