Ah Nuts!

This Mother's Day was an event to remember! My daughter, proud owner of a six month old male, lab-collie cross, called me in a bit of a panic just days before.
     "Hey, mom, Jasper's chewing everything...I think he needs to be neutered." I waited for the enevitable...and was not disappointed.
     "How much does it cost to get the vet to neuter a dog?" Translated "can you pay for my dog to get neutered".
     "It's a couple hundred bucks," I said ...wait for it...wait for it...my programmed brain chanted.
     "Mom, can you help me pay for it?" And there it was....the money grab.
     "Nope, I haven't got any extra this month....there is another option though," I baited the hook.
     "Really, do you know someone who can do it for free?" She asked with eager anticipation.
     "You do too, think about it sweetie. Who has a boot, a carpet and a leatherman's?" The image of my dad with a cat rolled head first in a carpet, the carpet in a boot and the leatherman's separating the cat from his manhood, made me smile and squirm simultaneously.
      "Grandpa can neuter a dog?" She asked in amazement. "I mean, I knew he can do cats, I've seen him do cats, but I didn't realize he could do dogs!
      "He's a cowboy, he's done thousands of calves, and they aren't built that much differently than a dog." I could hear the excitement in her voice.
      "Do you think he could do Jasper for me?" she was starting to make plans, I could tell. "When's he coming in town?"
      "He's coming in Saturday to take me out for Mother's Day. I could ask him if we could take a detour past your house." I responded frankly.
      "That would be great!  So Grandpa can do it...does he have a cone for the dog?  Will he need antiseptic...should I buy some?" she peppered me with questions.
       "I don't think so. He'll bring his own equipment."  \
     And bring his own equipment he did. Saturday morning he showed up with a lariat, a chained dog collar and his leatherman's multi-tool. We arrived at her place, she herded the dog into the back yard. My dad dismissed my daughter, telling her that she wasn't needed. She obediently, but confused, went back into the house.
     With a practised hand, my dad used the lariat to loop around the dog's shoulder and head. He flipped the dog over in submission  position and gave me the chains to hold his hind feet. The dog began a plaintive cry. A whimper-howl. I glanced to the kitchen window and saw my daughter. Her horrified look told the whole story. In a flash she was at the back door. The howling continued; my daughter crying, attempted to appease her dog.
     "Get back into the house, I gotta get 'er done, you're not helping!" My dad barked
     "But, he's hurting my dog!" She looked at me with a pleading look, hoping for my intervention.
     "What did you think was going to happen?" I responded, tightening my grip on the chains.
     "I thought he would have an anaesthetic! That's what the vets do!" She was approaching us, wanting to soothe her dog.  This would not go over well with my no-nonsense dad. I motioned for her to go back to the house. From the look in my eye, she could tell this gesture was non-negotiable, and retreated back to the kitchen window.
     Suddenly a voice from the next yard interrupted the whimpering howls, "What are you doing with that dog? Is it okay?" her head peaked over the fence.
     "We're fixing him!" My dad barked again, and with a slit of the leatherman's, and a snip, my dad tossed the balls, one at a time into the yard. He released his head, and instructed me to hold on tight until the dog was safely on the ground. I then unhooked the chains. The dog immediately began licking himself. My daughter reappeared, tear-stained face. Grumbling my dad led the way to my SUV.
     "If Animal Protection Services come by, deny you know anything" my dad wiped the leatherman's on his jeans and put it back into it's case on his belt and got into the vehicle. "Let's go, NOW."  I turned the key, backed out and started to leave.
     "Thanks Grandpa," my daughter waved with one hand, wiping her tears with the other. The dog's face appeared at the front window, seemingly unscathed, by the traumatic events of just a few minutes before.
     "So where do you want to eat?" My dad queried.....and my stomach churned.