Close Call in the Cat Room

Yesterday we went to the vet for some routine blood work. Our vet, like many others, has separate waiting rooms for dogs and cats. In the dog waiting room, there is a selection of toys for sale. The proceeds go towards the clinic's Stray Fund. We always buy Bean a toy on the way out to reward her for being a good girl at the vet.

Well, yesterday, I stayed in the waiting room while they took her back (it was just a quick lab visit). I had already picked out a toy for her (a pink fleece squeaky horse, more on that later) and stashed it in my purse. I don't like to give it to her until we get home, because she tends to make a mess with her toys. Well, there I was, thumbing through the latest issue of Dog Fancy, when the door from the lab bursts open and Bean comes tearing out of it, dragging her leash along, and followed closely by a vet tech. She had gotten free from the tech on their journey back to the waiting room. And her destination?

The cat area.

Oh yes. Bean decided that instead of the usual plush toy, this time she wanted a living, breathing chew toy to take home. One that meows instead of squeaks. She was caught before she could make it there, and no cats were harmed during this ordeal, although there was some hissing and back-arching. When they brought her to me, I wasn't sure if she still deserved a toy. Should I reward this behavior?

OK. I know how that looked. But let me just say... the cats started it.

I ended up giving her the toy once we got home. How can I resist that face? Besides, she looks sorry, doesn't she? Man, I am a pushover.