Monday, December 18, 2006
This just in: Chingy! still as disgusting as ever
Today, I had to take my fatass pug Chingy! to the vet for his triannual rabies immunization. An interesting fact about rabies that those of you not enslaved in the service of academic virology might not know is that it is the deadliest virus known to science. Everyone who gets rabies, or at least rabies in their central nervous system, dies. If you get bitten by an infected animal, you have about two weeks to get the series of around 15 extremely painful intraperitoneal shots of anti-rabies neutralizing IgG antibodies that will prevent the virus from getting into your neurons, and you can live, which is why nobody in the developed world ever dies of the hydrophobia anymore. But if you don't get your antisera and that shit gets in your neurons, you're fucked. There is a 100% mortality rate. That's bigger than HIV/AIDS, bigger than smallpox, bigger than the 1918 flu pandemic, WAY bigger than H5N1 bird flu, and bigger than even the most deadly flavor of Ebola (the Zaire strain has a 96% mortality rate). Maybe 5 or 6 people survived Ebola Zaire infection. Nobody has ever survived neuroinvasive rabies.
Since the thought of Chingy! going all rabid on my ass, possibly attacking me and infecting me with his rhabdovirus-filled slavering bite, and ultimately dying, I placed a high priority on ensuring that he stays up to date on his rabies boosters. Normally I give the boys immunizations for other doggy pathogens myself (distemper, canine parvovirus, leptospirosis, etc.), because I am certainly capable of giving a simple subcutaneous injection and because these vaccines are optional. Rabies, however, requires a license, so you have to go to a vet for it. So I decided to go to the ASPCA Animal Hospital, because I'm sort of a sucker for animal charities, and because they're cheaper than going to the regular vet. The only problem with this is that the ASPCA Animal Hospital is on E. 92nd St, between 1st and York. That means that calculating a means of getting there via public transportation would involve the hellish experience of riding a crosstown bus. Specifically, the M96 bus, and that joy would come after carting Chingy!'s heavy ass all over the C train.
Therefore, I decided to force Chingy! to walk from the C stop at 96th and Central Park West all the way to the ASPCA, about a mile and a half. It ended up being more, because I got us lost on the Central Park bridle path. I figured Chingy! could use the exercise, especially since I've spent most of the past couple weeks trying to devise effective diet strategies for the little fucker to ensure that he'll fit beneath my feet on the flight to Seattle tomorrow. Unfortunately our extra time on the horse trail cancelled out any calorie-burning gain, as it resulted in Chingy!'s discovering a new type of feces to eat: equine. Chingy!, energized by his covert road-apple tasting, managed to make it all the way to the ASPCA, but promptly fell asleep on the waiting room floor and began snoring loudly.
The vet we were supposed to see came out to get us, spied Chingy!, and said, "Oh, this must be Chinky!"
"Chingy!" I said. "It's short for Chin-Chin, and it's pronounced Chongay!"
"Uh...okay, Chonk-ay. You're the fattest pug I've ever seen! But you're SO CUTE!"
Once Chingy! was up on the table, the vet began examining him. After a few minutes in which I explained my desperate attempts to get Chingy! to lose weight, followed by a few minutes in which the vet said that I should just keep up the work, which I interpreted as, "He's fucking fat. Just accept it. He's SO CUTE anyway." Then the vet got to his ears. I related that he'd had an ear infection last year around Christmas, and while the drops he got a year ago seemed to improve it greatly, he still had a varying quantity of brown tar in his ears. However, he didn't act like his ears were itchy or sore, and Caesar makes a regular habit of literally licking all the shit out of Chingy!'s ears as part of some sort of bizarre grooming ritual that I consider entirely the dogs' business and don't interfere with. Since it didn't seem to bother Chingy! and I didn't notice any obvious signs of inflammation in his ear, and since Caesar's attentions kept it relatively at bay, I just figured it was some stank earwax. Chingy! is synonymous with revolting bodily excretions, so I assumed his ears were no exception.
The vet strongly suggested she put it under the microscope and see if there was any evidence of a bacterial or yeast infection. Since I'm paying for all this, and therefore the equivalent of Chingy!'s HMO, I decided to inquire as to the necessity of this test. For one thing, I could do the test myself, if all she's going to do is look at his earwax under the scope.
"How do you determine if he's got an infection or if you just see commensals under the scope?" I asked.
"Commensals?" the vet said, blinking.
I forget that science lingo doesn't always transcend specialties, and it's possible "commensal organisms" isn't how they describe your normal microbial cohabitants in the veterinary textbooks on infectious disease. "The normal non-pathogenic bacteria and other microbes that live in his ears," I explained.
"Oh, right," said the vet, giving me a weird look. "Well, it's usually pretty obvious if one organism is outgrowing everything else. Hang on a moment while I examine the sample," she said, waving the slide containing Chingy!'s ear smear and hurrying out of the room.
When she returned a few minutes later, she informed me that Chingy! has a yeast infection. A yeast infection! I mused, "I always thought Candida albicans was typically white. Why is his ear schmegma brown?"
"Excuse me?" the vet said, looking puzzled.
"Candida albicans. Isn't that what usually causes yeast infections?"
"Oh no, in dogs it's typically Malassezia. What did you say you do again?"
"I'm a grad student in microbiology. There's a lab in my department that works on Candida. I've heard a lot of seminars from them, complete with lots of gross pictures of oral thrush." I leave out my opinion that they probably only show thrush because it's marginally less gross than a picture of someone's cottage cheese biofilm-oozing vadge.
The vet laughed. "Do you study yeast?"
"No, I'm in the virus business. Polio and the common cold."
"Oh, so that's why you're so on top of Chonk-ay's rabies shots."
"Yes. And I saw Old Yeller."
The vet laughed again. I frowned. Old Yeller is no laughing matter. I get upset just thinking about how that movie ended, and I cry every time I see it. I don't deal with the tragic death of great fucking dogs very well, but I thought I'd let it slide in this case. It's not the ASPCA's job to accommodate my personal issues with dying dog movies, and I was ready to get my eardrops, put on Chingy!'s lovely gold rabies tag, and begin the trudge back to the west side. So I thanked the vet for identifying Chingy!'s fungal malady and paid for the exam and Chingy!'s Monistat. Then I told Chingy! to get excited for the walk back to the C train.
Unfortunately, Chingy! decided not to get excited and went on a sit-down strike around Lexington Avenue, so I got fed up and hailed a cab. My dog is morbidly obese, and has a fucking YEAST INFECTION...IN HIS EARS, so I figured I could treat us both to a cab ride back to Sugar Hill. Goddamn that Chingy!, and his yeast infection! Even his illnesses are revolting.
Since the thought of Chingy! going all rabid on my ass, possibly attacking me and infecting me with his rhabdovirus-filled slavering bite, and ultimately dying, I placed a high priority on ensuring that he stays up to date on his rabies boosters. Normally I give the boys immunizations for other doggy pathogens myself (distemper, canine parvovirus, leptospirosis, etc.), because I am certainly capable of giving a simple subcutaneous injection and because these vaccines are optional. Rabies, however, requires a license, so you have to go to a vet for it. So I decided to go to the ASPCA Animal Hospital, because I'm sort of a sucker for animal charities, and because they're cheaper than going to the regular vet. The only problem with this is that the ASPCA Animal Hospital is on E. 92nd St, between 1st and York. That means that calculating a means of getting there via public transportation would involve the hellish experience of riding a crosstown bus. Specifically, the M96 bus, and that joy would come after carting Chingy!'s heavy ass all over the C train.
Therefore, I decided to force Chingy! to walk from the C stop at 96th and Central Park West all the way to the ASPCA, about a mile and a half. It ended up being more, because I got us lost on the Central Park bridle path. I figured Chingy! could use the exercise, especially since I've spent most of the past couple weeks trying to devise effective diet strategies for the little fucker to ensure that he'll fit beneath my feet on the flight to Seattle tomorrow. Unfortunately our extra time on the horse trail cancelled out any calorie-burning gain, as it resulted in Chingy!'s discovering a new type of feces to eat: equine. Chingy!, energized by his covert road-apple tasting, managed to make it all the way to the ASPCA, but promptly fell asleep on the waiting room floor and began snoring loudly.
The vet we were supposed to see came out to get us, spied Chingy!, and said, "Oh, this must be Chinky!"
"Chingy!" I said. "It's short for Chin-Chin, and it's pronounced Chongay!"
"Uh...okay, Chonk-ay. You're the fattest pug I've ever seen! But you're SO CUTE!"
Once Chingy! was up on the table, the vet began examining him. After a few minutes in which I explained my desperate attempts to get Chingy! to lose weight, followed by a few minutes in which the vet said that I should just keep up the work, which I interpreted as, "He's fucking fat. Just accept it. He's SO CUTE anyway." Then the vet got to his ears. I related that he'd had an ear infection last year around Christmas, and while the drops he got a year ago seemed to improve it greatly, he still had a varying quantity of brown tar in his ears. However, he didn't act like his ears were itchy or sore, and Caesar makes a regular habit of literally licking all the shit out of Chingy!'s ears as part of some sort of bizarre grooming ritual that I consider entirely the dogs' business and don't interfere with. Since it didn't seem to bother Chingy! and I didn't notice any obvious signs of inflammation in his ear, and since Caesar's attentions kept it relatively at bay, I just figured it was some stank earwax. Chingy! is synonymous with revolting bodily excretions, so I assumed his ears were no exception.
The vet strongly suggested she put it under the microscope and see if there was any evidence of a bacterial or yeast infection. Since I'm paying for all this, and therefore the equivalent of Chingy!'s HMO, I decided to inquire as to the necessity of this test. For one thing, I could do the test myself, if all she's going to do is look at his earwax under the scope.
"How do you determine if he's got an infection or if you just see commensals under the scope?" I asked.
"Commensals?" the vet said, blinking.
I forget that science lingo doesn't always transcend specialties, and it's possible "commensal organisms" isn't how they describe your normal microbial cohabitants in the veterinary textbooks on infectious disease. "The normal non-pathogenic bacteria and other microbes that live in his ears," I explained.
"Oh, right," said the vet, giving me a weird look. "Well, it's usually pretty obvious if one organism is outgrowing everything else. Hang on a moment while I examine the sample," she said, waving the slide containing Chingy!'s ear smear and hurrying out of the room.
When she returned a few minutes later, she informed me that Chingy! has a yeast infection. A yeast infection! I mused, "I always thought Candida albicans was typically white. Why is his ear schmegma brown?"
"Excuse me?" the vet said, looking puzzled.
"Candida albicans. Isn't that what usually causes yeast infections?"
"Oh no, in dogs it's typically Malassezia. What did you say you do again?"
"I'm a grad student in microbiology. There's a lab in my department that works on Candida. I've heard a lot of seminars from them, complete with lots of gross pictures of oral thrush." I leave out my opinion that they probably only show thrush because it's marginally less gross than a picture of someone's cottage cheese biofilm-oozing vadge.
The vet laughed. "Do you study yeast?"
"No, I'm in the virus business. Polio and the common cold."
"Oh, so that's why you're so on top of Chonk-ay's rabies shots."
"Yes. And I saw Old Yeller."
The vet laughed again. I frowned. Old Yeller is no laughing matter. I get upset just thinking about how that movie ended, and I cry every time I see it. I don't deal with the tragic death of great fucking dogs very well, but I thought I'd let it slide in this case. It's not the ASPCA's job to accommodate my personal issues with dying dog movies, and I was ready to get my eardrops, put on Chingy!'s lovely gold rabies tag, and begin the trudge back to the west side. So I thanked the vet for identifying Chingy!'s fungal malady and paid for the exam and Chingy!'s Monistat. Then I told Chingy! to get excited for the walk back to the C train.
Unfortunately, Chingy! decided not to get excited and went on a sit-down strike around Lexington Avenue, so I got fed up and hailed a cab. My dog is morbidly obese, and has a fucking YEAST INFECTION...IN HIS EARS, so I figured I could treat us both to a cab ride back to Sugar Hill. Goddamn that Chingy!, and his yeast infection! Even his illnesses are revolting.
Labels: CHONGAY CHONG, doggity style, epidemic geekery, gross, viruses rule
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