She came in with her dog. This isn't uncommon in my practice, so I didn't think much of it.
Dr. Grumpy: "So what's going on? Mary said you had an emergency?"
Mrs. Fennec: "Yes! Fluffy ate my bottle of Strokoxx!"
Dr. Grumpy: "Uh, are you okay?"
Mrs. Fennec: "I'm fine! But what should we do about Fluffy?!!!"
(I look at Fluffy. He looks at me and cocks an ear to the side.)
Dr. Grumpy: "Well, you should take him to your vet to get this checked out."
Mrs. Fennec: "BUT YOU'RE THE ONE PRESCRIBING THE STROKOXX!!!"
Dr. Grumpy: "Yes, but I have no idea what it does to dogs. Or how to handle it. Or much about dogs at all. Who's your vet? Why don't I call and tell them what's going on, and you can head over there..."
Mrs. Fennec: "It's YOUR medication. You prescribed it! So you should be handling any issues it causes."
Dr. Grumpy: "Well, yes, as far as people go. But not dogs."
Mrs. Fennec: "You're refusing to treat Fluffy because he doesn't have insurance!"
Dr. Grumpy: "This has nothing to do with money. I'm not a veterinarian. You need to take him to someone who knows what to do for him."
Mrs. Fennec: "This is ALL YOUR FAULT, and I'm going to send you the vet's bill!"
(She got up and stomped out. Fluffy, I swear, looked back and winked at me.)