Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide To Not Growing Up - Plot & Excerpts
Which is why Moose, who had been lethargic and groggy during the whole car ride, suddenly sprang to full attention when we pulled into Dr. Dixon’s parking lot. There’s no way I’m going in there, he said, without having to actually say it. “Come on, Schmoo,” I said, using one of Moose’s many nicknames. “This is important. We need to make you all better.” Finally, we were able to talk Moose into going inside. He started to tremble a tiny bit as soon as we walked through the door. I think I might have been trembling, too. “Well, hello!” said Dr. Dixon, in her incredibly friendly way. The weird thing about vets is that no matter how kind they might be to your animal, or how nice or awesome they are in general, you never want to see them. Because if you’re with them, that means something’s wrong with your pet. Dr. Dixon was like that. She was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. But I was sorry to see her, as usual. “What’s going on, big fella?” she said, leaning down and scratching Moose’s ear.
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