Puddle o' Mud

Yesterday morning, after it rained-make that POURED-the previous day, Finnegan decided it would be an absolutely outstanding idea to lounge in a nice big mud puddle on the morning we were to bring him for his next to last chemotherapy appointment. Although I have spent thousands of dollars on medical care, I feed him, care for him, play with him, etc., I always have this paranoid feeling the people at the veterinary hospital are going to think I neglect him or I'm a horrid dog parent. I envision a confrontation going something like this:

"Oh, Slave to Mr. Stinny, do you leave him outside all the time in the freezing cold and rain in a very confined space so Finnegan's only option is to sleep in a mud puddle?"

"Why yes, I do let him sleep outside in the freezing rain and mud. Even though I have spent thousands of dollars in medical bills, drive 3 hours round trip every three weeks, rehabilitate him, medicate him, bathe him, brush him, play with him, and love him to death, I thought that it would be a totally awesome idea to have him catch pneumonia by leaving him out in the bitter cold in a mud pit."

"That's what we thought. We also think his toe nails are 2 mm too long so we cut them for you. Has anyone ever told you what a dreadful horrible dog parent you are?"

"Ummm no. Anything else?"

"Yes, we have put you on America's Worst Dog Parents list."

"That's what I thought. I'll be back again in three weeks to feel bad about myself."

"Have a fantastic day!"

No, it did not go that way. I washed (in my work clothes no less) and dried him off. They were very nice when I brought him to the clinic. I think my paranoia just gets the best of me. As usual...