My Dog's First Trip To The Veterinarian

[This post originally appeared as "Heartworms, Rabies, and Crafty Veterinarians: A Love Story" over at DanPerezFilms.com]

OK, I have a confession. I've been a bad doggy owner. When I first got my pug Buddy almost four years ago (as a Christmas gift for my daughter), I was informed by a friend of a friend of the original owner that Buddy had gotten all his vaccination shots. I told the friend of a friend of Buddy's original owner to get me a copy of the form so if the Doggy Police ever showed up at my door threatening to pee on my leg unless I produce a record of Buddy's vaccination history, I'd be straight.  The friend of a friend of Buddy's original owner said, "No problem. I got this." Cool.

I see the friend of a friend of Buddy's original owner a week later and ask him if he was able to get the forms. "Not yet but don't worry, I got this." Cool. Same thing happens a week later. "Not yet but I got this." OK, not so cool. Let me just make a long story short. I forget all about the friend of a friend of Buddy's original owner and when I finally see him again several months later, he tells me Buddy's original owner has moved to North Carolina. No vaccination papers? No problem. Why would anyone lie about that? Buddy's good.

Almost four years later and we suddenly realize that we've never taken Buddy for a check-up. No shots. Nothing. Moreover, we really don't know if Buddy ever got his shots in the first place. But Buddy's been as healthy as a dog can be (with the exception of a three day run of diarrhea after he decided to snack on the toxic fibers of a floor mat and the time he started violently frothing at the mouth after accidentally swallowing one of my wife's Prednisone pills). But we decided it was finally time to take him in for a checkup.

So we all hop in the car and drive over to Banfield Pet Hospital in our local PetSmart...

Ready to roll.

Ah, nothing like my doggy hairs blowing in the wind.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Uh-oh, we're here.

If you gotta go see the doctor to get shots, always bring somebody along who'll  feel sorry for you afterwards (gets you extra treats!)

Alright, let's just get this over with.

The Pawn

We're directed to the doctor's office and a few minutes later, a young man wearing scrubs walks in. He asks us why we're here and we tell him Buddy's story (or lack thereof). He quickly pulls out a trifold pamphlet, opens it up in front of us and asks us to select one of the three Optimum Wellness Plans for Buddy. The choices are a $311.40, $419.40, or $515.40 plan (with convenient monthly payments) plus a one-time membership fee of $69.95(!) I ask the guy, "What ever happened to just getting a dang rabies shot?"

He tells me that because we're not sure if Buddy ever got his shots that he's gonna need more than just a rabies shot; he's gonna need several booster vaccinations. "Booster vaccinations?" Yeah, booster vaccinations (which he explains are additional doses after the initial dose). He assures me this would ensure effective vaccination. "But what ever happened to just getting a dang rabies shot?"

Scare Tactics

He gives us a few minutes to think about it and walks out of the office. A few minutes later, he comes back with the veterinarian; a young blond-haired woman with a pleasant smile and a friendly Southern accent. After introducing herself, her smile suddenly disappears and she begins to describe to us all the horrible diseases that dogs are at risk for. She then warns us of the unbearable suffering that Buddy would undergo were he to be afflicted with any of the aforementioned diseases and the costly treatments that would have to be administered to save Buddy from an agonizing death. She then lists all the horrible diseases that can be transferred to Buddy from mosquitoes, rabbits, squirrels (and other rodents), contaminated water, birds, cats, reptiles, and even other dogs  (along with the unbearable suffering, costly treatments and/or agonizing death that might ensue).

Finally, she lists all the horrible afflictions that Buddy, if infected, could (gasp!) pass on to us: diarrhea, fever, stomach pain, rabies, lyme disease, uncontrollable barking, kidney failure (Lions, and tigers, and bears! Oh, my!). After a dramatic pause, her smile returns and she asks which of the three plans I'd be interested in so that they can proceed with Buddy's care and avoid all the unnecessary suffering, costly treatments, and/or agonizing deaths that could possibly befall us all. I see right through her scare tactics, "Well, thank you for trying to scare the living heartworm out of us AND for making us realize how much it sucks to be a dog AND how hazardous it is to own a dog; but what ever happened to just getting a dang rabies shot?"

The Kid Gloves Come Off

The veterinarian looks right at me for about five seconds without saying a word. She then looks at my daughter who's sitting down holding Buddy's leash. She then looks back at me, her smile no longer visible. She pauses for another five seconds before asking the question she knows is gonna screw me, "Mr. Perez, don't you love your dog?" My daughter looks up at me, her eyes eager for an answer. I resist the urge to explain to the veterinarian that I like Buddy (a lot) and if he were to get sick, suffer, and die an agonizing death it would really bother me (a lot) but that I wasn't expecting to pay $311.40, $419.40, or $515.40 plus a one-time membership fee of $69.95 for him to get his dang shots!

I look over at my daughter who's still looking up at me. I remember holding her on the day she was born. I remember her looking up at me with her crusty eyes. I swore I'd be able to pick her out from among a thousand other babies; that's how beautiful she was. She's looking up at me again now. She doesn't say a word but her eyes do all the talking for her, "You do love Buddy, don't you dad?" I turn to the crafty veterinarian and with a voice barely above a whisper, I reply, "OK, I'll take the $300 package."

I look back at my daughter and she's smiling that beautiful smile of hers. Her daddy has a heart after all. I look back at the veterinarian, the smile has returned to her face. My shoulders slump. I feel like I just got sold a pair of skinny jeans by a shrewd JC Penny salesperson ("Your wife is gonna love you in these!"). Well played, young blond-haired veterinarian with the friendly Southern accent. Well played.

I'm quite the specimen, aren't I?

When one person sticks a couple of needles in your ass while another person has you in a headlock, it's not a good day.

Yeah, my ass is hurting.

Smell ya later. I'm out.

I wonder how many treats I'll get when I get home...

There's no place like home.

Now, about those treats...

Little Girls Own Their Dads

In the end, I'm glad we finally got Buddy his vaccinations (though, after almost four years of good health, I get the feeling that now his hair will start turning purple and he'll start growing a fifth leg). After all, he is part of the family now. He don't do a hell of a lot besides lie on his doggy bed all day and it takes him about half a mile of walking before he can find a spot suitable to poop on and he still pees on his leg every now and then but he's my little girl's dog. She loves her Buddy and Buddy loves anyone who rubs his tummy and feeds him doggy treats.

Ultimately, it all came down to one simple fact. A fact that the blond-haired veterinarian with the friendly Southern accent knew very well. Daddys love their little girls. And that's certainly worth $311.40 plus the one-time membership fee of $69.95.

Right?

5 Badass Women Bloggers You Should Be Following

Recently, I wrote a blog post on the sudden and mysterious disappearance of Captain Smack and his highly engaged blog, "This Is Your Captain Speaking". My search to uncover his whereabouts led me to popping a red pill and jumping head-first down the rabbit hole (trust me, there was no other way). What I found was a blogging Wonderland awash in funky fresh blogs; a large percentage of them penned by badass women bloggers.


Read more about them HERE

Captain Smack, Red Pills, Rabbit Holes, and the Blogging Matrix

[This post originally appeared over at DanPerezFilms.com]

One of the benefits of social media platforms is that it allows us to discover the over 100 million blogs in existence; blogs that we'd never have come across only a handful of years earlier. That’s the good news. That's also the bad news because it seems that for every decent blog I come across, I also come across about 117 crappy ones. Recently, however, I stumbled upon a blog called This Is Your Captain Speaking. The blog’s author, Captain Smack (who is described as a “guy who drops acid, sees UFOs, and jerks off with toothpaste"), penned a number of wickedly funny posts on numerous different topics such as religion, serial killers, depression, toilet technology, and many others. The language is rather explicit as is the subject matter but the posts are hilarious, several of them brilliant (if you don’t mind hating yourself for finding something funny that you really shouldn’t be finding funny). It was, by far, the best blog I had ever read…but in 2009 it was mysteriously abandoned.

The blog launched in March of 2007 and in April of 2009, it suddenly stopped publishing new posts. I found this rather odd considering the success of the blog. Each post generated numerous comments (many over 100) and responses from Captain Smack himself. The very last post, Let’s Go Crazy, was among the best of the blog and left no hint that there would be no further posts. So what happened? Did Captain Smack suddenly die? Flee the country to avoid paying fines for unpaid parking tickets? Was he abducted by aliens, perhaps? Hard to imagine that with such a gift for creative writing, he would suddenly just give it up.

Upon further investigation, I realized that the blog kept no regular schedule. Some posts were published just a few days apart and other times, several weeks would separate posts. The posts also varied in length. Some were almost 5000 words long while others were under 1000. Lastly, I realized that the blog had no Retweet or Like buttons. Obviously, this was the time right before before facebook and twitter would go on to dominate the online social space. What really resonated with me, however, was the fact that despite the lack of what many people consider to be the two greatest platforms to generate traffic to one’s blog, an erratic blogging schedule, not to mention the varying lengths and subject matter of the posts, This Is Your Captain Speaking had a highly engaged and dedicated audience.

In an effort to uncover clues that might shed light on the Captain’s sudden disappearance, I started to investigate his blogroll as well as the profiles of those who commented on his blog. I soon started to feel like I had taken the red pill and jumped head-first down the rabbit hole. My search for truth led me to other blogs that were also fresh, witty, clever, original. Blogs that weren't afraid to color outside the lines; that were personal; that weren’t about the same dang thing that I see clouding my twitter stream every day. Blogs that had a highly engaged audience; that didn’t obey the “rules”.

I suddenly realized that I had been living in a simulated blog universe without even knowing it: the “Blogging Matrix".



What is the Blogging Matrix?

The Blogging Matrix is a system. A system of rules. What you should write, who you should write it for, how long you should write it, what words you should put in it, how frequently you should publish it, and how often you should share a link to it on your social networks. Rules. Rules that have killed creativity in favor of SEO. Rules that have made bloggers predictable - rushing to publish poorly written posts that capitalize on the “hot topics” of the day (remember all the Osama bin Laden posts? Oh, and how many lame Google+ posts have you come across lately?). Rules that have made new bloggers forget that when it comes to "writing", there are no rules.



The Blogging Matrix is Everywhere

If I may paraphrase the words of Morpheus from the 1999 film “The Matrix”: "The [Blogging] Matrix is everywhere. It is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window [facebook] or when you turn on your television [twitter]. You can feel it when you go to work... when you go to church... when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your [the blogger’s] eyes to blind you from the truth."

We've become slaves; slaves to the system. And no, I'm not talking about those people who blog for their company. Those bloggers have a specific agenda and certain limitations when they "write" and that's OK (and if you’re one of those people, please don’t tell me that you’re free to write about whatever you want to because I’m not gonna believe it). I'm talking about the person who decides they are going to start a blog to express themselves; to share their ideas, causes, passions and observations with the world. Until, of course, they happen to stumble upon a certain twitter chat with the topic "How to Monetize Your Blog" and suddenly they stop focusing on "why" they wanted to blog and start focusing on "how" they should blog. The system claims another victim.



Beware of the Gatekeepers

The system is our enemy. The system has made us slaves to banner ads, feedburner subscriptions, monetization, and golden calfs.  The system has told us we must worship and pay tithes to so-called “A-List” bloggers and faux “thought leaders”, most of whom only recycle the ideas of the past century or befuddle us with multi-colored infographics.  They are the “gatekeepers” of the system and will fight to protect it because their livelihood depends on it. Sooner or later, someone is going to have to fight them.

Neo: Why do my eyes hurt?
Morpheus: You've never used them before.



Free Your Mind

"I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid... you're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin." ~Neo [from "The Matrix"]

Are you living in the Blogging Matrix? If so, then pop a red pill and join me on a journey to find Captain Smack in a world way down the rabbit hole where there are no rules.

The answer is out there...are you ready to take the red pill?

Watch The Award-winning Hip-Hop Documentary Film: “P.A.T.H.”

WINNER: “Best Florida Film” 2010 Sunscreen Film Festival
WINNER: "Best Documentary on a Contemporary Issue" at the 2010 DocMiami International Film Festival
OFFICIAL SELECTION: 2009 Chicago International Hip Hop Film Festival

“P.A.T.H.” (which stands for Preserving, Archiving and Teaching Hip-Hop History) is the award-winning documentary film about the P.A.T.H. Hip-Hop Academy, the first ever summer camp of its kind in South Florida. During the four week camp, teenagers from ages 13-18 studied Hip-Hop history, the art of DJing (turntablism), MCing (rapping), B-Boying and B-Girling (break-dancing), and Urban art (graffiti).

Watch the film HERE