Boo and Pickle go to the dog doctor...

I was being a good little dog mommy and paying Boo's license fee for the year when I noticed this sentence "Be sure to attach rabies certificate". Did I have one of those. Indeed I did, and I even found it. It was three years old. Oops. So, I made an appointment for 9:20 AM this morning, which meant I had to set the alarm, something that doesn't happen very often at all in the little yellow house, no, not any more. Both dogs were suitably alarmed when it went off. Now, Pickle has never ever been left all alone, without Boo, so she had to go with us. I couldn't find the brace, so had to take them on separate leads, with Pickle on the short one, of course. Boo got the extendable one, which allowed him to climb into the car first, thus showing Pickle how it is done. Right. She wanted to go anywhere except into the car. Finally, I picked her up and dumped her in. On the driver's seat, where she dug herself in and refused to budge. I had to pry her off to scoop her into the passenger seat, with Boo, where she hunkered down and didn't move a muscle till we arrived. Then I pried her off again. She remembered the vet's office, and pranced right in. Then they took Boo away. She cried and fretted and worried. Okay, I am at fault, as usual. I need to take her with me more often, so she gets used to the car, and being away from Boo, who I am sure could use a break from the little brat. She climbs up onto the bed, and it is a queen-size, not small, yet she will sit right on top of poor Boo. And she still does that thing she does, sit on the bed steps to keep him from getting up. Life in the little yellow house just naturally revolves around the Pickle.