Needless to say, Louie--that little caramel bon-bon--is the center of adoration in the waiting room. He's asked to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Somebody wants to know if he's a "Doodle." but he pretends not to hear. Later, he sidles up to me and whispers "Que'st-ce que c'est La 'Doodle'?" I shrug, pretending to have no idea. Why ruin this happy puppyhood? He'll find out soon enough.
A pregnant Pug emerges from the examination room, her once trim figure distorted by her distended stomach, her seven teats milk-swollen in expectation of the litter that is to arrive on the morrow. She glances in Louie's direction and her look seems to say, we are only puppies once. Enjoy the chewing of things not meant to be chewed--tax information and Louis Vuitton leather gloves--relish the caresses of strangers, for these pleasures pass too soon what remains then? You wake one day and, your vision clouded by cataracts, mistake your leash for a small yet deadly boa constrictor. In a vain effort to protect your human owner, you grab it in your teeth and leap out the window, inadvertently impaling yourself on the picket fence that everybody thought was so God-damn charming. They rush you to the vet, but it is too little and too late; your gallbladder has been punctured. They try to sew it up. The surgeon emerges from the operating room three hours later, and raises his hands, palms upward in a gesture of futility. We did what we could, but it was not enough. Soon you are no more than a a handfull of ashes stuffed in a jiffy bag or, if your human really loved you--really, really loved you--a nice marble crematory urn, with your name and your years of service engraved in script on a little gold tag and chain.
Dr. Chris is ready for Louie. Step up on the scale, please. Eight pounds. Heart, lungs, pulse... A shadow crosses her face.
"Yes?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
"One of his testicles isn't descended," she says. "Are you going to have him neutered?"
"I was planning on it," I reply, politically correct but experiencing a knot in my stomach.
"Well then, we'll remove it at that time."
"Remove it? Can't you just tie the tubes, like a vasectomy?"
She laughed. "No, we remove them."
"Could you..." I hesitated, not wanting to give her the wrong impression, "put something in to replace them?"
"Pardon me?"
"Implants?"
"There are such things, but they're expensive because they're silicon, and sterile. They're pretty much indistinguishable from the actual testicles in touch and appearance."
I mull over the idea that people are touching their dog's testicles.
"Implants?"
"There are such things, but they're expensive because they're silicon, and sterile. They're pretty much indistinguishable from the actual testicles in touch and appearance."
I mull over the idea that people are touching their dog's testicles.
"They even make them for bulls and horses," she says.
"Could I get really big ones for Louie? The kind they make for bulls?"
"I wouldn't suggest that," Dr. Chris replies, eyeing me in a way that suggests that I have crossed a boundary. "I certainly wouldn't perform that operation."
"Of course not," I agree emphatically. "But maybe someone in Tijuana..."
She tells me it is time for her next appointment and leaves the room quite abruptly, stopping to scratch Louie's head and remind him to be a good dog.
Check out the Neuticles website for the entire range of canine, equine and bovine testicular implants.
NB: Silicone implants for animals are pretty funny, but a neglected undescended testicle in a dog or cat is no laughing matter since these animals have a higher likelihood of developing malignant cancers and other health risks. Be sure to follow your vet's advice in these matters.
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