Opdogetrist

Frisk goes with Doggo to the eye doctor to get him corrective lenses

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	Frisk sat in the waiting room, kicking their legs idly as they waited with their canine friend. There was always a lot of waiting when it came to the optometrist’s office, especially when there’s many parts to one appointment. Frisk had to wait between the arbitrary sight tests, the dilation tests where Doggo looked particularly pitiful with his new, black glasses, and of course the long stretch of time where they had to wait for a doctor to free up.

	Poor Doggo was a nervous wreck. Despite being around people who were also looking for help with their eyes, he still felt like they were judging him for his condition. At times, Frisk had to pet him to calm him down whenever the waiting became too much for the monster. Frisk giggled at Doggo’s goofy glasses to prevent the lights from damaging his eyes. They clearly weren’t designed with monsters in mind, and even though they could balance on his snout it seemed that even the slightest gust of wind could knock it down off of his face.

	A girl and her mother came from the door to the doctor’s office, the child with her own pair of oversized sunglasses. Doggo started to whine a little bit as he realized he was next, his tail wagging nervously against his chair. Frisk simply smiled and pat the top of his head, which made him calm down a bit, much to the human’s amusement.

	“Mister, erm, Doggo?” The doctor said, looking up from her clipboard to the nervous monster. He looked down at Frisk, who gave him a reassuring nod, before he got up and followed the doctor.

	Frisk continued with their waiting, the child unusually patient as she simply watched other families come and go, some with new prescriptions and others with shades covering their eyes. Eventually the door opened again and Doggo emerged, brand new spectacles resting on his nose. They looked more appropriate on him, better fitted for his canine face than the blocky mass produced shades he had on before.

	He shuffled back towards Frisk as they got up, his ears slightly drooped out of nerves. He looked down at them, and Frisk could tell he really was looking at them. “Well, how do I look?”

	Frisk gave him a thumbs up, and asked “How many fingers am I holding up?”

	“That’s your thumb. What, do you think I’m blind?” Frisk merely smiled as the dog realized what he just said, his face switching between happy and annoyed. “And I thought Sans was bad.”