This is my number one pet peeve:      

You must smell like a vet.  

        On occasion, when I meet someone for a social visit, I encounter a dog who refuses to greet me. The owner, looking awkward, excuses the dog’s behavior by informing me that I must smell like a vet.

How can this be? I can’t possibly carry the ghosts of scents from my place of work; I haven’t been there for two days. I’ve sweated, showered, and spritzed on sweet perfume since then.

That can’t be it.

Maybe they mean, I look like a vet. But I’m not wearing my white lab coat, scrubs, stethoscope, or pocket protector. In fact, I donned a brand new dress and sandals for this visit.

That can’t be it.

I sound like a vet. No wait, I use the same loving, adoring, gentle voice for every animal I meet.

That can’t be it.

Body language. I haven’t approached the poor dog with the intent of trimming his toenails.

That can’t be it.

What about all the dogs that want to wiggle, wag, lick, leap, and play in my presence?

That’s it!

They’re the ones who can smell, see, hear, and sense the love, compassion, kindness, tenderness, adoration, and passionate desire to heal that glows inside every veterinarian’s soul.

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