I Needed My Polka Dot Bow Tie

I had no idea it was going to be that kind of appointment.

If I had — paws down, I would have been wearing my very best blue polka dot bow tie. The one I keep for only the most special of occasions. But I was not given the opportunity to make this decision. And this was a big mistake of my Mama! Because some things can't be redone — and this was one of them. And I walked into Dr. Davis's office looking like I did on any regular Tuesday when there would be nothing regular about this Tuesday. Or this visit.

On the one paw, thank goodness!

I wouldn't have to endure the embarrassment of not only being weighed, but the nurse telling my Mama my weight in her outside voice for everyone to hear. How rude!

I wouldn't have to pretend to almost faint to avoid a different nurse attempting to use that temperature stick that in the past few visits I've refused to allow — because of where it has to go.

And I knew for certain I wouldn't be getting any shots or going home with a cone. I had no aches, pains, or allergies.

And I hadn't just eaten half a box of chocolates and would be needing that awful medicine to make me throw it all up.

So why were we here? Even my super smart brain was completely confused. Until I saw what Mama was pulling out of her bag. And immediately, I knew why we were waiting to see the amazing Dr. Davis.

And I changed my mind quicker than I can eat a treat — about all these things. And I would honestly choose every single one of them instead, if it meant we weren't there for the reason we were.

My heart went into instant emotional overload.

And I was madder than any doodle should ever be.

My prayers hadn't worked — because I'd been asking every night for this day never to come. And yet here we were. And to make matters worse, if that was even possible, this was most certainly a blue polka-dot bow-tie occasion, and I wasn't informed it was happening! I wasn’t even given a hint. So there I was, looking like I did on any regular Tuesday. But mostly, I was very, very sad. So sad, that my heart felt like it was breaking in two. And my brain, flooded all at once with reasons for how I was feeling, wasn't helping. Like remembering how the very first time I met Dr. Davis, he said my name like it was the best name he'd ever heard — and just like that, I felt like I was the most impawtant pup in the entire world. And instead of feeling scared, I felt extra special.

Or thinking about all the deep conversations we'd had nose to nose — talking all about me and what it was that I needed and making sure neither Mama nor I were overly stressed — before anything medical ever happened.

And of course, how could I ever forget how much I appreciated that Dr. Davis was never mean or judgmental about my numbers that came from that scale — instead he was always caring and supportive — never withholding treats when the scale said I was too floofy for my height, and I’d tried to convince him it was because Mama forgot about my monthly grooming.

Appointments were never rushed. Ever. Not even when Mama, in my humble opinion, asked more than one too many questions about my exercise and nutrition.

And unlike quite a few of my Mama's doctors, there were never any mistakes in the notes in my chart — and I never received a wrong diagnosis or was put on unnecessary medication. The only mistake I ever noticed when checking my chart — which I did at every vet visit — was the inaccuracy of the numbers from the scale, which had clearly been broken for too many years.

And most of all, I remember how safe and loved I always felt, certain that nothing would ever go wrong because Dr. Davis was in charge — and I knew I really mattered. Because you can't fake the love I saw in his eyes, felt in his heart, heard in his words, and felt in his gentle touch.

Can you imagine saying goodbye to someone as extraordinary as this — who had taken exceptional care of me for more than a few years? He was always there for me — whether I needed his expert diagnosis, my teeth made extra clean, or a bee sting removed. Or sometimes just a reassuring word.

These were not small things. They weren't once-in-a-while things. They were always things.

This is not nothing. It's everything.

And this is who my vet, Dr. Davis, is. And now I was losing him. And my heart was shattered. Who would love me, keep me healthy, and care about me as he had — as if I was their own — and always do everything possible to make sure I never felt scared or alone? I wasn't just losing my vet — I was losing a trusted partner and a dear friend. Kind. Pawtient. Brilliant. Honest. Not just the best vet in the world — but a rare and exceptional human that's almost impossible to find.

As I sat waiting for Dr. Davis to come in, my heart was once again in the middle of my tummy, which is one of the reasons I had no interest in any treats that day. What if the pawsonal gift I had chosen for Dr. Davis — and the note I'd written in my very best paw-writing — would not do a good enough job of telling him how I was feeling and everything I wanted him to know. Including the part about missing him already! Before he'd even left the state of Arizona. He deserved to know how unimaginably special he was.

And just like that, my heart flipped from sad to mad again! Because if Mama had told me what kind of appointment this was going to be — if she had told me it wasn't a check-up but our time to say goodbye — then I would have worn my favorite blue polka-dot bow tie — and that would have helped say what I could not. But instead, it was sitting in my cupboard at home when I needed it right here, right now.

And that's when I heard him coming. This was it. It would be the very last time I would see him walk through the door of Exam Room Number 2. And as his footsteps were getting closer and closer, the lump in my throat was getting bigger and bigger. What would I do to make sure he knew how much love and respect my heart carried for him?

There were just 3 things a floofy doodle, who was a hot mess of emotions, could possibly do.

#1. When we got down nose to nose for this one final conversation, I would make sure we were also eye to eye so he could see into the depths of my soul. #2. I would snuggle right up into his chest — so he could feel my heart and all of my love. #3. And I would give him the biggest kiss ever — right on his face, in the middle of his cheek. And then there'd be nothig more I do except hope that all of this together would say absolutely everything I wanted him to know.

And then we would have to leave.

The drive home was quiet and heavy — even though I think I achieved what I hoped to. How do I know? Because even though Dr. Davis had a big friendly smile on his face, his eyes told me a different story — which was confirmed by what I felt from his heart. And I think he's going to miss me too — and that proves I was right about how much he really did care about me, the one and only, Toffy Floof Jawno.

But even knowing this, my head still had no interest in being stuck out the window to smell all the fresh air. And my tummy still had zero appetite for treats of any kind. And — if you know me at all — that tells you everything about how badly I was feeling on that not-at-all-regular Tuesday.

And so I did the only other thing I could think of to honor someone I love, someone I already missed, and someone who meant the world to me and my Mama. That night — I wore my special occasion blue polka dot bow tie and sat at the table and ate dinner with Mama. So Dr. Davis, if you ever come across this blog — you will finally know the full and entire story of how much you mean to me and my Mama.

Toffy xoxo

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