Yesterday we took our new puppy, Roosevelt, to be neutered.  (Now, with both a Carter and a Roosevelt for pets, we have a truly bipartisan household.)

Our five-year-old son, after hearing our attempt at an explanation for why Roosevelt had to be neutered, said, “Mommy, why do only the dogs who don’t get their balls chopped off get to be married?”

Awkward.

When we arrived at the vet, we soon discovered that Roosevelt was showing some signs of premonition.  His instincts were probably telling him that this would be his last chance to sire a brood of pups. He began to bare his teeth and growl viciously whenever one of the veterinary staff came around to open his cage- (how can you blame him, really?)- so much so that I was asked to stay around a bit longer to help the tech administer a tranquilizing injection.

As I coaxed an over-anxious dog out of his cage and negotiated a muzzle over his mouth, the tech and I struck up a conversation.

“I work with both animals and people,” he said.

“Really?,” I asked.  “Which category do you find harder to work with?”

“Animals are pretty par for the course.  Humans are…harder.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“They lie a lot.”

“Like how?”

“When I have to get information about their medical history, they’ll often not fess up and tell the truth about the medicines or drugs they’re taking.”