Immovable Object vs Vet Student

My current patient is a British Bulldog named Rosie, a very solid, snortle-y, smooshed-face genetic mess with a bizarre corkscrew tail, misaligned teeth, and patches of hair loss from a skin disease. She's smelly, has grungy skin folds, and makes a constant stream of noise just by breathing.

She also likes to lie, sit, or simply stand and stare into space. I had to take her for a walk this morning.

First, we made some slow progress out of the ward and into the hallway, with her waddling along in a rather funny gait that could be because she doesn't understand how to use a leg with an IV catheter in it, or because she just walks funny. The unfortunate part of taking dogs for walks is that to get to the fenced-off grass, you have to go past the dog runs for the large dogs. For some reason they are also the barkiest. Earlier in the morning, you could hear a chorus of howling from at least three different dogs, like the song in Lady and the Tramp. I guess one had started and the others all jumped on the bandwagon.

Rosie, I think, is very afraid of giant noisy dogs. The reason I say "I think" is that because when we reached them, she stopped moving. There was no obvious expression of fear, but it's possible that between her flat wrinkly face and short melded-into-her-butt tail, she may be incapable of any expressions at all. But she wouldn't move.

She's too small to push or herd, but too heavy to really carry. Also I was on one side of the threshold, keeping the door open, while she sat firmly on the other side. The icing on the cake is that flat-faced dogs tend to have collapsing tracheas, so I really didn't want to tug much on her leash or collar, in case I strangled her. So I spent at least 5 minutes alternating between trying to bait her forward with an excited voice, and shoving her butt or placing one paw in front of the other. I finally got her onto the other side of the doorway and closed it behind her. After a moment of delayed reaction, she scurried past the big scary dogs and made a beeline for the gate outside.

The return journey wasn't any easier. As soon as we reached the gauntlet of barking dogs, she actively pulled back and refused to continue. I repeated my efforts of pushing and pulling, to even less effect. Eventually, I put my arms around her and scooped her up, her stubby little legs flapping about in the air, and hauled her the five steps to the doorway before plonking her back down.

Then I had to do it all again in the afternoon.