I work in a veterinary clinic. We have a new client who’s only been coming to our office for a little over a month. However, she has been in three times already and calls almost every day, and she often calls multiple times a day on those days.

She freaks out over everything her kittens do and anything that happens to them. They get diarrhea? Apocalyptic panic. They scratch the furniture and are energetic because they’re kittens? Hysterical crying.

And if we don’t call her back with answers from the vet within twenty minutes of her calling, she calls back and gets upset that no one is responding to her. She once called the local emergency vet in the middle of the night to complain to them that we hadn’t responded to the message she left. We were closed, but that little detail didn’t matter to her. 

This past week, she was in with her kittens for a skin issue, and the vet stayed late to see her. We’ve given her a skin cleanser that needs dilution and have explained how to do so: one part cleanser to ten parts water (one tablespoon cleanser plus ten tablespoons water).

Client: “I can’t do this! I don’t understand!”

The tech explains again how to do it, making it very simple and non-technical.

Tech: “And then you put it into a spray bottle and spray the kittens.”

Client: “I can’t! There’s no [Superstore] near my house; I can’t get a spray bottle!”

Starting to get emotional, the client gestures to a bottle on the counter full of spray disinfectant.

Client: “Can I buy that one?”

Receptionist: “No, I’m sorry. That’s the clinic’s disinfectant spray; we can’t sell it to you.”

The client began to cry as if we’d told her we were going to burn down her house. The conversation was repeated multiple times, and the client insisted she had more questions for the doctor, who was in with a late emergency. We’d been closed for an hour, but she refused to leave. Eventually, the tech managed to get her out, but she stood outside for a while, not leaving the property. She did finally seem to be leaving, but we were apparently wrong.

She got in her car but just sat there, staring at the office door. We periodically peered outside, and she was still there each time. And unfortunately, the vet’s very distinct car was parked less than ten feet from the client’s. We realized quickly that she was planning to corner the vet at her car and make more of her demands.

When we finally left, nearly two hours past closing, the staff scattered to their cars quickly, hoping to not get caught by the client (she thinks we’re all basically able to do anything the vet can do), and the vet finally made a beeline for her car. In a miracle moment, the client had turned away to check on the kittens, just long enough for my boss to hop in her car, whip out of the spot, and peel out like her life depended on it.

I’ve seen some really weird stuff working here, but that was the first client I’ve seen wait outside like that to basically stalk the vet.

It was the last appointment on the Saturday before New Year’s Eve. In walks a Chihuahua breeder we had never seen before or since. She had her child and a six-week-old puppy the size of a large hamster to ask us why his eyes aren’t open yet.

My veterinarian, the kindest sweetheart of a human being you’ll ever meet is explaining through the excited face-licking from this puppy that:

Veterinarian: “He has a condition called bilateral microphthalmia, his eyelids are open, but the eyeballs never formed.”

Breeder: “Put him to sleep, I can’t sell a blind dog.”

Immediately the kid starts crying. In a tone as icy as the Michigan winter outside my vet says:

Veterinarian: “Give him to me and I won’t charge you for the visit.”

The owner agrees. I’m heavily pregnant and I need a blind teacup Chihuahua like I need a hole in my head, but I convinced my vet to let me foster him for the weekend, so she doesn’t cancel her holiday plans to care for this literal ten ounces of dog. Monday’s a holiday, Tuesday we close for a blizzard, and my husband has named him in the meantime. So that’s the story of Pip, my foster failure of a breed I swore I’d never own. He was all of two-and-a-half pounds fully grown and the friendliest little potato you’d ever meet.

Oh, and about six months down the line, a good regular client asked out of the blue if a little blind Chihuahua puppy ever came in. This was the person who gave the breeder lady our name. She was glad he was in good hands but when we told the tale, she said:

Regular Client: “I told her I’d adopt that puppy!”

Apparently, that breeder just couldn’t give anything away for free.

I am a veterinarian. I hear all sorts of different reasoning and preferences for why people elect to do or not do certain things to their pets. My job is to inform clients of the pros and cons of different options and make a medical recommendation. After that, I generally respect their decisions even if I disagree. However, this client really took to the cake for making strange decisions.

It was a new client with an adult female cat several years old who had previously received veterinary care but was just moving to a new clinic. I noticed in the records that the cat was intact (unspayed), which is unusual. I decided to investigate.

Me: “I noticed that [Cat]’s records say she is not spayed; is that correct?”

Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Is there any particular reason or concern you have for not spaying [Cat]?”

Client: “Well, I was just concerned about surgery. I just don’t want to put her through unnecessary surgeries, you know?”

Me: “Certainly. Just to check in, are you aware of the increased risk of mammary cancer in unspayed female cats? And are we keeping her away from intact males?”

The client confirms these things and doesn’t seem to want to discuss it more.

Client: “I just didn’t want any surgery…” *pause* “…but, she wasn’t being a good kitty…” *chuckles* “…so we did have her front claws removed.”

Yes, folks. She didn’t want her cat spayed to reduce risk of cancer because of the surgery aspect, but she had the cat surgically declawed. I genuinely did not know what to say. The real kicker to that weirdness? On the way out, the client said to our receptionist that she “just likes [Cat]’s personality more when she’s in heat.”

I took a call from a woman wanting to schedule a neuter for her Italian Greyhound. We had a long, rational discussion about anesthesia, pricing, pre- and post-op considerations, etc. I’d entered her and her dog’s information, scheduled the appointment, advised her regarding fasting, and was about to hang up when she just had one more question.

Woman: “Just out of curiosity, do you remove the testicles completely, or is it that new thing I’ve heard about where you just deflate them?”

I managed to answer the question and hang up before I burst out laughing, but I couldn’t get the picture out of my head of our doctor poking the dog’s scrotum with a needle and the dog flying around the room like a balloon.

A client brings their three-year-old German Shepherd to have his nails done. After they have checked in, the client takes a flea preventative out of her bag. She bought three individual pieces when she actually wanted the entire six-pack. Whether this was our error or the client’s error is unknown because she bought this two months ago and we would have deleted the voicemail request.

We aren’t allowed to return medication that has gone home. My supervisor is trying to work with her, but the lady is being unreasonable.

Supervisor: “Why did you wait two months to tell us that you got the wrong amount?”

Client: “I didn’t realize until now!”

Individual pieces come in a small clear plastic bag; six-packs come in a box. The price between the two sizes is noticeable.

Client: “This is your fault and I demand you refund me!”

Supervisor: “I’m sorry, but we are unable to refund you. Legally, we are not allowed to accept returns for medications that have been taken home, let alone medications that we were sold months ago.”

Client: “This is ridiculous! I demand a refund!”

Supervisor: “I’m sorry, but as I said, ma’am, I legally cannot refund you. I can put a note in your dog’s chart that the next time you request the flea preventative you want the six-pack, but that’s all I can do for you.”

The client and the supervisor continue to have a back and forth, with my very experienced supervisor remaining calm and polite while the client begins to get shrill and rude. The technicians have not grabbed the dog yet because they don’t want to interrupt the conversation, but it has already been at least five minutes and if we wait any longer, it might put us behind.

Finally, a technician comes up to the lady and gently interrupts.

Technician: “Hi! I’m here to take your dog back for his nail trim!”

The lady begrudgingly hands the dog off to the tech, and once the dog is behind a closed door — standard practice for nail trims; we do them in the back — she yells:

Client: “I bet that you people are going to hurt my dog and trim his nails really short to hurt him because you think I was rude to you!”

The dead silence that follows her statement is met only by the cold fury that my supervisor projects. In a clipped tone, my supervisor says:

Supervisor: “Ma’am. We are professionals. We would never do anything like that. For you to assume that we would hurt your dog in retaliation for your attitude is unbelievable. That is incredibly disrespectful, and if you ever say anything like that to us again, I will bar you from this clinic.”

The lady huffs and sits down without saying another word. The rest of the clients in the waiting room avoid her gaze. After the techs are done with the dog (with a proper and professional nail trim that results in no bleeding ends), the client pays us and walks out with a grumbled:

Client: “Sorry, thanks.”

You aren’t in the vet practice because you love money or people; you are there because you love animals! Show some kindness and understanding, especially when it comes to anyone in a clinic!