Good Gracious!

Bonnie was a lovely, dainty, little golden Cocker Spaniel.
She was always immaculately groomed and had tiny pink bows
tied in the hair at the top of each ear when she came to our Veterinary clinic for her annual booster vaccinations or to have her nails trimmed. 
Bonnie's doting owner was herself impeccably groomed and dressed. Her gray hair pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, a touch of rouge on her cheeks, red lipstick, Miss Hartwick was the image of a respectable elderly lady.
One morning as I was organizing my desk with the roster of records
for our afternoon appointments, the phone rang.  "Good morning,
Burlington Animal Hospital, Miss Smith speaking", I said.
"Oh dear", the tearful voice sobbed," I need to bring Bonnie to the
hospital right away.  Is the doctor there yet?"  
" Yes, Dr. Prior is here (we had 3 vets who took turns doing in 
hospital and home and farm visits).  "What has happened to Bonnie?" I asked.
"  I cannot speak of it to you, dear.  You are so young (I was 19)
she uttered.
I had no idea if this was truly an emergency.  One of my duties was to screen calls to determine what was actually necessary for an
emergency visit.  Dr. Prior was planning to do two surgeries this morning and I did not want to have an unneeded visit take him away from his scheduled work.
But Miss Hartwick was a very good client and usually a sensible woman, so I had to make this exception and told her to come right over.
I informed Dr. Prior, always a sunny, flexible guy, a pleasure to work with, and he put on his white lab coat, washed his hands and 
entered the room where we examined out patients.
Almost immediately the front door of the clinic opened and in rushed Miss Hartwick-not carrying Bonnie as usual, but dragging
a woe-begone, scruffy caricature of the once beautiful spaniel
by her leash.
I did not speak to her.  Whatever was wrong, she apparently was
not comfortable in advising me.  I simply led her to the exam room.
Dr. Prior lifted Bonnie and set her on the exam table.  Usually a
sparkling, bright dog, Bonnie simply sat there, head down, soft ears drooping.  Miss Hartwick collapsed into the chair in the corner.
I stepped into the room and stood next to the table stroking the
little Cocker's head.   "Well now what has happened to Bonnie?"
Dr. asked.  "Oh I can hardly speak the words", the very distressed
woman choked.  "Bonnie has disgraced the family name".
Seems Bonnie, who had never been spayed as Miss Hartwick did not want to put her darling girl through surgery ,had escaped the fenced yard and had an affair, however brief, with the neighbor's Schnauzer.  "Whatever am I to do?"  Miss Hartwick whispered.
Dr. Prior assured her that since she had brought Bonnie in so soon after her dalliance with the Schnauzer, her disgrace would never be known.  A quick injection.  Bonnie went home with some pills to be given for a  few days.
But just before they left the room, Dr. Prior opened the drawer containing cotton, gauze pads, and a box of finger cots.  Finger cots
are small white rubber tubes designed to fit over a finger or two when doing a rectal exam thus sparing the waste of an entire glove.
Perhaps Miss Hartwick was not as innocent as I had imagined, for
when she spotted the box of finger cots she gasped "Good gracious.
I did not know they had those for dogs.  And shame on you Dr. for not telling me about those long ago!"
Just how she thought she might have enticed the Schnauzer to wear one was beyond us.
Dr. Prior and I laughed over this for weeks--every time we opened the drawer and spotted that box.
Oh yes -- Bonnie was spayed the following month.