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We Don’t Talk About Cujo

, , , , | Healthy | March 25, 2022

At the veterinary hospital we frequent, you are addressed by your pet name; e.g., my husband and I are Mr./Mrs. Cherry, after our cat. When the vet is ready for you, the receptionist will call out “Mr./Mrs. [Pet]!” and you can go in for a consult.

One day, we have a fellow pet parent who enjoys making fun of people’s choice of pet names as he waits for his own, particularly of small pets with tough-guy names – Terminator, Darth Vader, etc.

The first pet is called and it’s a miniature Doberman Pinscher called Killer. The wannabe comedian does his whole schtick of making fun of Killer for having a tough name and being tiny. Nobody is amused.

The second pet is Thor, a grey toy poodle. Cue the dude and his comedy routine. By now, the whole waiting room is dreading the next client.

The next pet called is Cujo. The dude turns around and right in his face is the largest Newfoundland Shepherd I have ever seen. It’s easily the size of a young bear, for those who have never seen the breed.

Now, normally, they are super gentle, but there is something wrong with the dog’s leg because it’s bandaged. When the dude turns around in his chair to make fun of Cujo, he is greeted with a deep, warning WOOF. He turns white as a sheet and just sits there, staring at the dog and possibly hoping he won’t get eaten.

There is light laughter from the rest of the pet parents waiting in the room. We never hear a peep out of the guy again until his own dog is brought out of the grooming section of the hospital. Serves him right.

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