"You Think I'm Going Where??"

"To the vets?!! Guess again, sister!!"

Sure she's a cute lil' 6 pound Chihuahua, but she turns into Cujo when she goes to the vets to get her nails trimmed.

I experienced this for the very first time. Hubs usually takes her because in the past she's been (as he puts it) a "handful." But I had the honors of escorting her this time.

She started to become possessed when we pulled into the parking lot. She immediately crawled up my shoulders and literally onto my head. I tried to calm her down by talking to her and bribing her with her Nyla-Bone. She was having no part of it and continued to crawl all over me as we sat in the waiting room.

The door opens and a sweet lil' dew drop of a girl says "Gracie?" "That's us." I responded, as we proceeded to walk into the exam room.

I placed her on the exam table. She sat there petrified but was being a good girl. That was until our vet walked in the room... Then all h*ll broke loose! She must have left an impression on him since her last visit because he had a tiny lil' muzzle in his hand along with her chart.

"We just have to slip this on her face,", he says. "WE?! You got a mouse in your pocket, Doc? Sorry, but I'm not on your payroll", I thought to myself. But I knew there was no turning back and I had to get the job done.

So after using a few Greco-Roman wrestling moves on her (I learned while watching the Ultimate Fighting Championship), we finally got the muzzle on. Whew! Now he comes at her with the nail nippers. I saw the look in her eyes... She literally put her front paws up to the sides of her face and whipped it off her head! I swear Houdini couldn't have gotten out of that muzzle faster than she did. If there was a doggie world record, she would have taken the gold.

Round two... We get the muzzle back on her. This time using a double knot, staples, velcro and Gorilla glue. (Nah, I'm just pulling your leg. I didn't use the Gorilla Glue) But we made sure she couldn't get out of it.

He proceeds to try and clip her nails as all three of us "dance" around the exam room. After carving me up like a Thanksgiving turkey with her nails, I said I have had enough. He got all but two and that was good enough for me. As I wiped the sweat from my forehead, I apologized for her wild behavior and paid the bill. I'm surprised he didn't charge me triple for that one.

We get home and she's back to her sweet lil' self, romping around the house and playing with her sisters like nothing ever happened. Meanwhile I'm in the bathroom with the First Aid kit tending to my battle wounds. I even had scratches on my stomach!

When hubs came home from work he pipes up, "How did she do?" After he saw the look on my face he said, "Not so good?" Gee, was my bloodied hands, arms and torso a dead giveaway?