Wolverine in Yellow Lab clothing

When I went to pick up Devil Dog after his surgery I told the receptionist my name and she asked for my animals' name.

"Bruce, he's the yellow terror"

"Okay, honey, just wait here and I'll be back with Bruce" she says to me in her sweetest southern drawl after I had filled out the appropriate paper work.

The children and I wait in the waiting room. It wasn't long before we hear metal cages being rattled then something that sounded like a skuffle and then the harsh sound of metal slamming shut. I can't be certain but I think I heard a muffled curse word spoken with a southern accent. Moments later the southern belle receptionist reappears through the door and says,

"Oh honey, he's just a wee bit nervous after today's excitement. I think he'd like to see you first." I don't remember her eyes being quite that large or the beads of sweat on her upper lip when I last saw her 35 seconds ago.

"Yeah, he's not nervous that's just him." I say bluntly

I follow her into the recovery kennel. My children ask to come.

"No, kiddos if Brucey-Baby is in a mood I don't want you guys to be in a tight spot" in my most sweet southern-momma voice which was code for "the dog is the devil incarnate and I have a feeling that he's gonna try to take down this here sweet receptionist when I get him out of his detention cell. I'd hate for your sensitive eyes to see this amount of carnage" But I didn't use that harsh verbiage as not to scare my new receptionist friend. My children got me spot on and laughed, "Yeah, this is gonna be good." they say in unison as they crane their necks around the corner to get a front row look at the fight.

Out of the corner of my eye I see they are whispering. I think they are taking side bets. Jake makes the hand gesture for "5" and Simi shakes her head and returns with the "10" gesture. Are they talking money, stitches, or people needed to subdue DevilDog. I don't bother asking.....what good can come of it?

The receptionist leads the way down the corridor. I can hear him before I can see him.

Rattling cage door, growling, snarling, and then strange silence. I've come to know that silence with Bruce is deadly. Silence is not good with this dog. It means he's gonna do some nasty s*&$@ to somebody.

Then he sees me behind her.

He sits down and wags his tail and licks my hands. I open the door and he curls up in my lap wanting me to pick him up. Silly 50lb dog.

"Oh my sweet little poopsie were you acting naughty, you little stinker. Oh I missed your face buddy, awwww, did they treat you well today? I say to Bruce just to make the receptionist (who was standing behind the metal door protecting herself from the gila monster who was sitting on my lap) feel inadequate.

My children are laughing. Jake yells down the corridor, "Guess he didn't like that lady too much."

"Oh that's nice, he just wanted to see somebody he knew. I've never seen a dog be so unfriendly after being so heavily sedated" says the southern belle

I thank her and take Bruce out to the car with his pain meds and stack of post-op instructions.

As Devil-dog is taking a whizz on the electric fence I read his surgery notes.

"***CAUTION***" is highlighted and triple starred on the top of the report "***MUZZLE****"

Interesting.....something tells me Brucey Baby was a bit of a pill today. I'll check YouTube just to be sure.