In Love

Yes.  You have my permission to laugh at the irony of the title this week.  My sense of humor remains intact.  Thank goodness...because it was one of those mornings.  Monday.  A million things to deal with in a month of dealing with millions of things.  I came downstairs to let Coconut inside because she was pawing incessantly at the door (her version of a knock).  She pranced through the door, and I began to notice bloody smudges on the floor wherever she flopped down.  Yes, the dog is in heat.  So I decided to do the only logical thing I could think of - take off for school and leave this messy situation to John.

We are in a country that has yet to embrace the concept of tampons.  I'm thinking doggie-diapers are probably not a big seller in the local market stalls.  John can barely bring himself to buy toilet paper at the market - never mind feminine supplies for the dog.

This is one of those situations where procrastination has evidently not been the best solution.  We had talked about getting the dog spayed numerous times.  We just hadn't quite had the conversation (aka pantomime session) with the vet.  We had all kinds of excuses.  We were afraid.  We're in Vietnam.  Dogs have puppies.  Puppies get eaten.  There's not really an over-population problem.  People just don't bring their animals to the vet for spaying and neutering. Where is Bob Barker when you need him most? We are unsure whether the vet has ever even attempted this procedure.  We don't know how to ask.  That's why it's John's job.

He calls the vet.  The vet speaks only Vietnamese.  John goes to our friend Ha and explains to her what is going. He asks her to call the vet.  She calls, spends a few minutes speaking Vietnamese, and then hands the phone to John and tells him that the vet speaks English (different vet).  John proceeds to explain the situation to the vet and manages to negotiate a 2:00 p.m. home visit to assess the situation.  He hangs up the phone, and Ha tells him she is very worried about me (with all of the discussion of bleeding and cutting).  John explains again that it is the DOG that needs a doctor not Jennifer, which makes you wonder exactly what Ha spent three minutes talking to the vet about on the phone before she handed it to John.

The vet arrives as scheduled to check on Coconut.  "Yes," he confirms, "she is in love."  Apparently she will be "in love" for 9-15 days.  I can barely contain my laughter let alone understand anything he says about the surgical procedure he will perform not once, but twice (?) in another two months.  "In heat" translates to "in love."  How romantic.  When he leaves the house, the vet reminds John that Coconut should not go outside while she is "in love."  As far as I am concerned, until they start selling doggie diapers at the corner store, Coconut will not be in the house for the duration of her romantic period (no pun intended).