Having lived with Labrador Retrievers for many years, my family has no shortage of crazy dog stories. Honestly, the list of items ingested by our labs could fill a book.
Yes, we have lots of stories, however, none of them compare to “The Sock Incident”.
One day, when he was about 9 months old, Charlie (our current lab) seemed to be more mellow than usual, just sort of moping around. As the day went on, he looked worse and worse and that night when I put his dinner out and he didn’t touch it, I knew something was really wrong. Labs NEVER refuse food. Based on his track record I figured it was quite probable that he had eaten something he shouldn’t have. Our regular vet was closed for the day but I found a vet in the next town that was still open and headed over.
When I got there I explained to the receptionist and the vet tech that I wanted x-rays done because I was pretty sure that he ingested something that was causing his malaise. There was a scale in the lobby where we were standing and the vet tech wanted to get his weight in case they needed to put him under for surgery. “Here we go again,” I thought, mentally calculating the cost of this one in my head.
The vet tech took Charlie’s leash and tried to walk him toward the scale but Charlie refused to move. With a look of panic in his eyes, he just kept pulling back on the leash over and over. I was getting frustrated so I started to push him onto the scale and he bolted back with all his strength.
Suddenly he squats his legs and assumes the position of a dog who is about to do something you do NOT want him to do indoors.
Looking absolutely crazed now, he starts pushing and straining and pushing some more. The receptionist, the vet tech, and myself are all just standing there watching the scene unfold in what seemed like slow motion. And then it happened, like a cork popping off a bottle of champagne.
An object comes absolutely FLYING out of Charlie’s ass and shoots through the air like a torpedo.
And that object had apparently been plugging up a river of liquids and solids that were now being relentlessly unleashed and spewed all over the LOBBY of the vet’s office.
The three of us are all standing in a circle around Charlie, dead silent, mouths hanging open, staring at the wreckage before us and at the object that landed across the room, which we can now see is a large sock.
The vet tech breaks the stunned silence with, “I CANNOT believe that just happened.” The receptionist chimes in, “That is the craziest thing I have ever seen in my life.” I am looking at Charlie, who is now prancing around the lobby, tail wagging, like he’s just won the lottery.
The vet tech looks at me and says, “I hope you realize your dog just shit out a $2000 sock.”
I have no idea what to do, what to say. I am completely mortified by what my dog has just done in their office. The vet tech turns to me and says, “Well, do you want to go back and see the vet now so he can check him out?” I should’ve said ok. I should’ve done anything other than what I did.
I grabbed Charlie’s leash and started walking slowly backwards, toward the front door.
“Um, well, actually….I think we’re good now! I mean, clearly, that was the problem so…uh…I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
And Charlie and I bolted out the door in utter shame, leaving our trail of destruction behind us.
When I got home and maniacally pantomimed the entire episode to my husband he was incredulous. “You mean, you didn’t do ANYTHING? You just ran? You didn’t pay them anything or even OFFER to at least clean it up?”
No. Regretfully, I didn’t.
But I did give them a hell of a story to tell at their next office party, don’t you think?