Last Thursday, I drove to my local big-name pharmacy to pick up Lilly’s anti-depressants. I had a long list of errands, so I swung through the drive-through. One of the 3 pharmacy people I could see through the huge window approached. She picked up the phone on her side so that she could speak to and hear me. I gave her Lilly’s name and the name of the veterinary hospital that called in the prescription. She disappeared to pull the bag from the shelves, then approached the two other women, said something, and all three laughed.
I could not hear the conversation, but it’s hard NOT to assume that they were laughing at the idea of anti-depressants for dogs. So, when she picked up the phone again, I said, “Don’t laugh,” in a conspiratorial way. Like ha-ha, yes, this is weird, but stuff a sock in it.
She said, “Oh, sorry.”
“Now you know what someone looks like who gives anti-depressants to her dog,” I replied.
As she processed my payment, she confided that indeed they’d seen A LOT of prescriptions for dogs come through this summer. The unusually bad thunderstorms, it seems, have greatly increased the number of phobic dogs in my town.
I simply agreed that the storms have been bad this year. Surely, she wouldn’t understand the true nature of Lilly’s generalized anxiety and performance-related fear.
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