Sugar Earns Herself a Sobriquet

Poor Sugar, minus a couple of reproductive organs, returned home last week after an overnight stay at the Boulevard Veterinary Clinic in Kennilworth, NJ., I kid you not. However, all was not well: her two human geniuses couldn't bring themselves to force her to wear the Elizabethan Collar (a grandiose name for a huge plastic cone secured around the head by surgical gauze). She refused to wear it, we knew she'd never sleep in it, and that was that. Then, she got a little infection at the incision site -- maybe too much tongue and tooth probing. Had to take her back to the clinic for an examination, and as it turned out, some antibiotics (a whole other posting, as I have to lay her on her back on the counter, pry open her jaws, and pour the drops down her throat. Oy, as we say in French).

But when Sugar and I entered the Boulevard Veterinary Clinic for our visit yesterday, I was unprepared for the greetings with which we were met by the staff. Now I'm already used to attention when Sugar's on my arm, or in my arms, aware she's the cutest, prettiest, tiniest little pooch out there (Scott, the trainer assured me that she's aware of it too and trades on it -- a negative behaviorally); and I'm unfazed but flattered by the oohs and aahs she elicits. But the minute we walked into the clinic the receptionist glanced at her and yelled out, "It's The Howler!"

I gazed at Sugar, she looked out the window.

Then a technician in green scrubs ushered us into an examination room. She said, "Hi. Oh, it's The Howler."  I asked her politely why they called her that. She answered that Sugar had been the source of something of a medical mystery. The night she stayed over, after her hysterectomy (hysteria being linguistically related to that procedure for some reason), there were three or four dogs spending the night recovering from various surgeries. A violent howling emanated from the kennels.

Every time the staff passed through, the howling stopped and they naturally assumed that the cries had come from the German Shepard there for toe nail excisions, or from the burly mixed terrier with an enormous jaw, or the other mutt with paws as large as its head -- all at least four times Sugar's size. During the long night, lit only by a dim light bulb, they'd stop, scold the big dogs, stoop and murmur reassuring words to Sugar, knowing how terrified the poor baby must be, lying next to these gigantic aggressive varmints. Sugar nuzzled them sweetly through the bars of her little crate.

By the next afternoon, all the patients were gone, except Sugar, whom the vet wanted to watch for a few hours as she was so small and had been anesthetized. But, to everyone's surprise, the howling continued. Except when someone came to check on her. But no other dogs were there (I guess Sugar was not aware of that.)

So that's Sugar, or rather The Howler.And what's my response to the the sobriquet "The Howler?" You go girl! If you're a 6-lb. female, you'd better know how to howl. So on the whole, a good experience.