Creature Comforts: Phyllis shares her account of alien abduction — a harrowing tal
Phyllis, the Daverios’ youngest and very precocious dog, has submitted an eerie first-person account of an experience that some may find disturbing. Full transparency: Phyllis had help writing this piece.
It was a cold, yucky morning, and it did not start very well. I didn’t get breakfast. I mean, I’ll admit, I’m a bit persnickety (I like what I like) and I take my time nibbling my puppy food, but they never forgot to feed me before — rude! I’m not a complainer, but I should have called the error to the attention of management. My friend, Walter (he’s a really old dachshund) would never EVER let them get away with skipping any of his meals. He’s perfected the perpetual bark. He can keep up the steady barking forever. He once barked at a bowl of tuna fish on the kitchen counter for twenty minutes straight. Amazing.
So, anyway, back to my weirdest day: My little belly was grumbly by the time we got to the office, and I did not like that feeling. You see, I go to work with the boss lady every day. I like going there, because most days, it’s kind of fun. I play with puppies and meet dogs, cats and ferrets and other critters. There’s these long hallways and a big yard where I can run and run and bark and bark. I have lots of toys and a soft bed. It’s pretty posh. This day, though, was totally different.
Besides feeling pretty hungry, the minute I got there, the boss lady started doing stuff to me that was a bit more pokey and proddy than usual. I mean, she’s always looking in my mouth and my ears and stuff, but this time, she made me stand on top of a table and listened to my chest with her necklace, and squished my belly. It was a bit awkward. Then, they started POKING ME WITH NEEDLES. You read that correctly. The (usually super nice) ladies who work with us at the office held me so that I couldn’t even wiggle, and took some of my BLOOD from my NECK. I am not making that up. They said it was for science and my own good because I was having ana-muh-theeee-zhahh. (They never did tell me what that means.) [editor’s note: anesthesia.]
They let me go back to my office for a little while, and I thought all the torture was over, but then they came to get me, again, and this time, they poked me in my BUTT muscles! Seriously! It stung for a second, but I think it hurt my feelings worse. I mean, I get in trouble sometimes for barking at the “patients” but nobody’s ever treated me like this before! Geez.
So, then, after that second poke, the whole world got a little squishy and swirly, and I don’t remember a whole lot. I think there were more needles, but they didn’t really hurt, so maybe I’m not remembering that quite right. I know there were bright lights, but then it all went kinda dark and quiet. And then my belly hurt and itched all at once. And my mouth was dry and I had to cough. Or gag. No, maybe it was both. Dunno. I woke up all confused, with my belly shaved, and in the special room they call the “eye see you” [editor’s note: ICU]. It was so they could watch me, I guess.
Once I started to feel a little more like myself, I just felt really, really tired and my legs were kind of wobbly. I tasted blood in my mouth, and there were teeth missing, for sure. My belly hurt for a few days after that — there was a cut there that they kept calling my “incision” and that I should leave it alone. I wanted so badly to lick it, but they kept telling me to stop it, so I did, because I’m a good puppy.
After I looked it up on the internet, I realized I was probably abducted by aliens, and that they took out my lady organs (and my baby teeth!) and implanted me with a tracking device (I overheard talk of a “microchip” in my neck!) I don’t feel any different, since I’m all healed, but I’m pretty sure I’m now 50% alien, and maybe a little bionic, so the squirrels and those neighbor dogs better watch it!
Editors’ note: Phyllis had an ovariohysterectomy (“spay”), had seven baby teeth removed (“Baby Shark, Do-do-do-do-do-do”), and an identification microchip implanted because her humans love her and want her to lead a long, healthy life. So far, so good.
— Daverio is a veterinarian at Williamsport West Veterinary Hospital. Her column is published every other Sunday in the Lifestyle section. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.