“OK, yeah, I got it,” I said, annoyed that Doc Lopez had a secret language with my best friend. 

G barked. “Don’t tell me you speak Spanish, too,” I said, rolling my eyes. “G, you’re in perfect health,” Doc Lopez said. “You don’t need a checkup. But I bet you deserve a treat!” G sat on her haunches, wagging her tail. Doc and Bones walked through the door at the back of the reception and Doc yelled, “Treat!” 

G ran straight at the reception desk, leapt over it, nudged her nose up against a drawer, and it popped open. The drawer was loaded with dog treats; G sifted through them with her nose and pulled out a giant bone. She trotted over the couch, munching on it with a happy doggy grin on her face. 

“AHEM,” Yogi said so loudly it reverberated off the walls. G froze, looked at Yogi, dropped the bone, and barked. RUFF RUFF!! 

“You’re welcome!” Doc Lopez hollered from behind the back door. 

Yogi and I waited in the reception area while Doc checked out Bones. We were talking for what seemed like only a few minutes but ended up being more like an hour. Yogi was so easy to talk to, kind of like my dad, except I never really got more than ten minutes with him.

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