It was supposed to be a simple walk. Leash? On. Treats? Packed. Weather? Perfect. But the second they got outside, Chooch knew something was off. He paused, sniffed the air, then shot a sharp look up at Dad. That side-eye said it all: “You think I don’t know where we’re going?”
Dad smiled way too much—his suspicious “everything’s fine” smile. Chooch narrowed his eyes. He knew. They weren’t headed to the park. They weren’t even close. With every step, the scents in the air changed… less trees, more vet clinic.
By the time they got near the building, Chooch put on the brakes—four paws planted firmly into the pavement. “Chooch, c’mon buddy,” Dad said gently, tugging the leash. But Chooch wasn’t buying it. Not today. Not when the betrayal was so obvious.
And then came the stare—deep, soul-piercing, and full of attitude.
“Chooch, stop w the BS, Dad.” That’s what the look screamed.
Dad sighed. He tried pulling. He tried sweet talking. He even pulled out the “emergency” chicken treat from his pocket. Chooch took it, chewed slowly, then backed up even farther. Classic manipulation.
People passing by couldn’t help but laugh. One man muttered, “That dog’s not having any of it.” A little girl whispered, “He looks like a grumpy grandpa.”
Finally, Dad gave in. “Okay, okay—no shots today. Just a nail trim,” he promised.
Chooch huffed. Still suspicious. Still salty. But after a dramatic pause, he slowly agreed to move forward, every step full of protest.
Inside, he survived. Nails trimmed. No pokes. No shots. Just a little humiliation.
By the end, he strutted out of the clinic like nothing happened. Back to the car, head held high—but you bet he was still mad.
So if you’re ever trying to trick Chooch into something? Don’t bother. He knows the BS when he smells it. And he’s not afraid to call you out. 🐶😤✋
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