Doc. Friedman

I know that there are plenty of pups out there who do not like to go to the vet.  I, however, am not like other pups.  I love visiting the vet.  Sure, I'm not a fan of shots that leave my butt sore or those dreaded nose drops.  And I'm certainly not happy about going there when I'm hurt (tried moving a building with the side of my head) or sick (when I snuffed up something that upset my tummy).  But I'm more than game for a routine check-up.

I love check-up visits for the following four reasons:

1. All the receptionists "ooh" and "aah" over me as soon as I walk in (and rightly so).
2. When I'm done with my appointment, I'm given a cookie from the community cookie jar.
3. I have great fun jumping on and off of the scale/adjustable exam table.
4. The doctors all love me and give me lots of attention.

But there is one doctor that I'm particularly fond of:  my primary vet Doc. Friedman.  Every time I visit him, he goes that extra mile to make me feel as special as I truly am.  In addition, he's able to turn a blind eye toward my family's odd and often embarrassing questions such as:

"Does he have more (or bigger) teeth than most Golden Retrievers?"

and

"When he drinks, most of the water dribbles out past his jowls.  Is he getting enough water?" 

So anyway, a couple of days ago, Pa told me that I was going to have to go to the vet to get some blood work done (purely routine...I need it to get my heart worm prescription renewed).  I knew that it was not guaranteed, but I was really hoping that I'd get to say hello to my pal Doc. Friedman who I haven't seen since my last physical.

Sadly, it wasn't meant to be.

When the receptionist called my name, she directed me into a room that was not Doc. Friedman's.  Strike one.  Then, a technician came in and took my blood.  Strike two.  Finally, I overheard the technician tell Pa that Doc. Friedman retired a few months prior.  Strike three.

It goes without saying that I was completely and totally crushed by this news.  How could Doc. Friedman retire and why, at the very least, wasn't I invited to his retirement party where I'm positive there must have been cake (and I'm a big fan of cake)?

When we got home, Pa told Ma the bad news and she immediately tried to comfort me.  She reminded me that all the other doctors are really nice especially Doc. Petermann who helped me when I hurt my back and when I tried to move the house with the side of my face.  Ma, of course, was right; all the vets there are really nice.  But I'm still going to miss Doc. Friedman (and his retirement cake) a lot.