Doggy doctors and things

So we took my poor dog to the emergency room today because after days of vomiting from both ends, several x-rays and an ultrasound, they finally figured out that she had a "foreign body" stuck in her intestine and she needed surgery to get it out.
Great.
So we're waiting at the emergency hospital and my mother reminded me that when I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian. She didn't mention that I also wanted to be a ballerina, an artist, a writer, a firewoman, an environmental-save-the-earth type, an astronaut, and a teacher at the same time. While my other aspirations continued on for weeks or months or years, my dream of being a veterinarian was cut short the day we put my first dog to sleep. Her veterinarian did it. I didn't know that vets kill dogs. But they do. And I don't. So I will never be a veterinarian.

Anyway, poor fucking Tika goes under the knife tonight. They think she has floss stuck in her intestine.
I never wanted to be a dentist.