This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/DependentEstate8760 on 2025-12-12 20:45:23+00:00.
(spoiler alert: no, I'm not a dog)
Today two of my dogs had a full-on bitchfight. One ended up with a head wound that needed stitches, so off we go to the local vet dungeon a few villages down. It’s hot in there, it’s stuffy, it smells like formaldehyde and gorgonzola... it's so grimey it's like one of them escape rooms from the Saw movies.
Dog is beyond panicking (she's a spicy fucker).They tranquillise her with an injection but she stays in full goblin mode anyway.
So I end up helping one vet restrain her because (she was BIG MAD) while the other is stitching her and it’s basically a sweaty four-way between one sedated-but-still-feral dog, two small town Italian vets and me bent over the metal table (no such a thing as vet nurses around here, the pet owners do that job)
My stomach is mashed into the table edge (hello Vasovagal Syncope) the room is hot as bollocks and the dog won't stop whining and squirming around.
They shave and clean the area, they numb her with lidocaine and start stitching. I keep squashing myself against the table for a good 10-15 minutes under the hot lights. I stand up to change position.
Immediate stars. Immediate tunnel vision. Immediate fuck my life.
Next thing I know, I’m collapsing into a metal shelf like a wet shopping bag.
I come back to consciousness within seconds and the vet who was holding the dog with me is looking down at me shouting my name in Italian like a furious grandfather:
“OP! CAZZO! TI HO VISTA CHE FACEVI LA SCEMA! COS’È SUCCESSO?!?” (Translation: “OP, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I SAW YOU WERE BEING FUNNY, WHAT HAPPENED?!?”)
Meanwhile the other vet is STILL stitching my dog with one hand while restraining her with the other and probably wondering if I'd been smoking meth.
They tell me to sit on the floor so I sort of limp / crawl to lean against a desk because my brain has temporarily uninstalled.
Then they offer me grappa (basically the Italian version of moonshine)
I think it’s a joke. I laugh nervously. I’m like “haha… must be that cheeky Italian sense of humor under duress ✌🏼🙂”.
No.
They actually bring me a shot of grappa. As medical care. So I take a tiny sip because hey, he's the professional here right? Also it was already rude enough collapsing ok their filthy ass medical equipment, can't possibly say no 🥴 even tho with that I broke my 250 day sober streak 😭
THEN because this nightmare wasn’t absurd enough, I go to pay.
The bill is €50. The transaction is refused twice. I check my balance. I have €44 in my card, no cash.
I try to bank transfer some more money from another savings account but because my brain is still operating on Windows 95 after the blackout, I fail to tick the "instant transfer" option (why is this even a thing?) and stand there confused as to why it’s not appearing.
So I sheepishly tell them I only have €44 like an absolute dickhead and now I owe the vet six euros, and probably a shelf.
Dog is fine. My back hurts. The vet thinks fainting = lack of "courage" so basically called me a wimp 😤
Oh, also, they waved me goodbye as I had to drive home alone through dark twisty mountain roads with my fucked up back and even more fucked up dog.
TL;DR: Dog got stitches. I helped hold it down at a hot, stuffy vet, fainted, banged my back. Vet shouted at me, offered me liquor to recover from fainting. I accepted the liquor therefore breaking my 9 month sober streak. Bill €50, had €44, now owe €6. FML.