Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Uh, oh, time to visit my Doctor!

Why would evil Mama #4534 think that an wonderfully healthy creature like me needed to see her doctor? Just look at me! Don't I have an  amazing body?!
Well, Evil Mama #5443 (her popularity rating with me is quickly sinking), decided for some strange reason that I should go visit Dr. H. I like Dr. H, I really do. He's very tall, and has white hair, big hands, a deep voice, and a special love for dachshunds.
I don't like sitting in that little room while I wait for him to visit me. Shouldn't he wait for me not me wait for him? I mean, all he does is pet me, and check out my amazingly healthy physique. And sometimes I think he gets a little too friendly with his poking and prodding, but both Mamas have told me that it's OK; sometimes a girl has to let her doctor poke and prod. They are watching him closely.
I figure he's using me as a role model for other dachshunds. After all, I'm perfect! (as my Martha often tells me).
Dr. H talked very nicely to me and told me what a healthy Diva I am. Then, suddenly, he said The Words. Yes, the awful, horrible words. I couldn't believe my ears, he is such a nice man, how could he say such things?
I can barely bring myself to write these words, Dr. H said, "Mabel needs to lose some weight."Mama #1 jumped in to my defense and told him that she's never had any trouble with her "kids" self-feeding, "they eat off and on all day." Dr. H replied (and this is just horrible!) "well, some are eating more on than off." Did you read that? Isn't that a horrible thing for my Doctor to say?!
Next, I heard him and Mama #1,999,999 talking about limiting my food! How dare they even think about it! But they discussed it in great detail.
Dr. H said I need to lose 3 lbs! That's almost 20% of my total weight! I'd be nothing but a skeleton! And Maggie, the lean mean walking machine, also needs to lose a pound or two!
I think I passed out. I don't remember anything else until walking into the door of my home. I went straight to the kitchen for a chewy bone (I DO deserve a reward for this ordeal) but Mama #2,000,000 instead picked up my leash and told Mama # 1 that we were going on a long, long forced march.
My life is over.

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