worst dog owner ever

anonymous asked:

"So I can take him home?" You ask, your red eyes looking down at your little dog, who lay on the metal table looking forlorn. "Yes." answers the vet, with a smile. "And he'll be ok? You're sure?" You ask. The vet smiles again. "The swelling should go down overnight, there is no sign of an allergic reaction, the chances of him going into anaphylactic shock at this stage are practically nonexistent.." he reassures you. (1/5)

“Ok,” you reply and let out a shaky breath, more tears threatening the corner of your eyes. “God, I’m such a mess! I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing..” you say. The vet gives you another gorgeous smile and hands you a tissue. “Don’t be embarrassed, you love your pet. I love when people love their pets, it makes my job even more worth it.” He tells you, as he gently pets your poorly puppy. (2/5)

“I’m the worst dog owner ever..” you say, shaking your head. “No you’re not!” He says with a laugh, picking up your little dog. “Your puppy ate a bee! It happens more often than you’d think..” he tells you as he hands your dog to you. Your puppy snuggles into you. “See, he loves you..”. You can’t help but smile. (3/5)

“Well, thank you so much..” you trail off. “Chris..” he tells you. “Chris. Thank you.” You say sincerely. “It’s my pleasure Y/N, it’s been lovely meeting you. And Rocky.” He says, smiling. He goes and opens the consultation room door for you, on account of your arms full of puppy. “Oh” he says as you’re about to leave the room. (4/5)

“Give me a call tomorrow around 5, I wanna know how he’s doing. And you.” He says, his face going red. “Both of you. I want to know how both of you are doing.” He says, his face completely red. You try to hide the huge grin breaking out on your face, with little success. “I will. Thank you Chris.” You say as you walk out of the room. (5/5)

I LOVE THIS - Gen 

Spinoff Saturday

  • My dad: hey you like writing about animal rights and stuff right? On your glass blog thing?
  • Me: yeaaaaa... you mean on my tumblr.
  • My dad: right. Glass, tumbler. Whatever. I got something for you.
  • Me: okay what?
  • My dad: you know that song "you ain't nothing but a hound dog"?
  • Me: *in my head* "oh man..." Yea what about it?
  • My dad: it perpetuates a negative stereotype about hound dogs. It's not his dog's job to catch the rabbit. It's the hunter's job to get the rabbit and for him to retrieve it. That poor dog. Has the worst owner ever. And they hail Elvis as a legend. He's a terrible dog owner.
  • Me: ...I. Um. Okay dad.
  • My dad: you'll tell them, right? Tell them the song should be changed. It's not the dog's fault.
  • Me: yes. Dad. I'll tell them.