Personal Space and Pooch Privates

I took a chart off of an exam room door today, the reason for the visit was "swollen penis". I showed it to my co-workers who responded in the usual manner. "Ooo, I know why you picked that room." "Massage it and see if that helps." "What have the owners been doing to him?" and so on and so forth.
Nine out of ten "swollen penis" complaints turn out to be the same common ailment. A boner. This room was no different in that respect. "I came home and let him out of his crate, and I noticed these two lumps on either side of his penis, the size of ping pong balls!" she cries, making the thumb and index finger on both hands into a circle. "And his penis looks really raw, like hamburger!"
I explain to her that the "ping pong balls" she's seeing are normal for a dog who's "excited". "But he's neutered!" she exclaims. "They can still get excited, they just can't do too much about it." "But he was just sitting in his crate!" "What were you thinkin' about in there?" I ask the dog. Yes, I really did. This lady's kooky so I see no harm in being a little off center myself.
So she's still concerned he has a chafed wiener (probably from all of the self satisfaction she now thinks he's engaging in ) and I tell her I'm going to take him to the back for the doctor to check it. We do the majority of what I call the "rude stuff" in the back- temperatures, fecal collection with our handy dandy poop loops, anal gland squeezing- basically anything that involves actual brown eye penetration. The owners and the pets seem to be more comfortable that way (plus we use plenty of lube).
So I start pulling the dog in the direction of the door, and he digs in and starts backing up. I try to coax him towards me, but he wants nothing to do with it. He's wise to the ways of the "back room". I ask the owner to walk with me to the door, usually then they think they're leaving and will start down the hallway, then once their owner's out of sight they'll willingly follow. A rotten trick I know, but you do what you gotta do.
So she gets up and says, "Here, I know how to get him to go with you." "Great" I think, "Wow me with your inability to control your own dog." I'm not sure what she's going to do but I have a few ideas, none of which she actually does. She ACTUALLY walks right into me, full body contact, WRAPS her arms around me, LAYS her head on my shoulder, RUBS my back, and says "Nice, nice, she's okay, see it's okay, nice, nice." For a full 30 seconds. It seemed like hours. If she'd been looking at my face instead of at the dog she would've seen the absolute horror plastered all over it. My arms stayed flat and stiff against my sides for the duration, but I think I recovered from the shock enough that I didn't look too aghast when she FINALLY released her grip. "That's how you give someone your seal of approval, eh?" I say. Of course the dog still won't go with me, so she has to walk him to the door anyway.
She's what I'd call "earthy" looking- 50s, really short graying hair, tank top, shorts, flip flops, not fat but she definitely had extra meat on her bones- enough that she had breasts that engulfed mine when she pressed into me. I'm not sure if she's just one of those touchy people or if she was just an old pervert.
I'm NOT a touchy person. Only family or very good friends- but even then my friends aren't touchy people either- so physical contact is rare. WHICH IS FINE BY ME.
Anyways, the dog's stupid peter was fine. They're usually a bright red or pink shade. When a dog has his rolled out while he's being restrained we point it out to the technician that's handling him and say " He has his lipstick out, isn't that your color?" It doesn't rub off and it makes your mouth sparkle.