[lit-ideas] Canine Companions
- From: "Erin Holder" <erin.holder@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 10 Jun 2004 18:51:53 -0400
Can I even articulate the tediousness of this day? You won't believe what I
did. I drove all the way to work, only to find out that I wasn't scheduled to
work today. So I drove all the way home, in rush hour traffic, only to get
home to discover that my poor dog, who has been hacking up a lung for the last
three days, has started puking his guts out all over the place.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Thank you Mr. Pukey. So I had to call the vet, and
because the guy's a familial relation he agrees to stay late and see my little
Sheltie. Of course, getting there is a task, because Mr. Pukey, of Beejay
(named after an axe murderer from the X Files) as he is more frequently
adressessed, decides to puke the entire car ride over, while my father is on
the phone thinking that I'm there, when I'm not yet there, and almost out of
gas, demanding to know what's wrong with the miserable canine. You just try
driving on empty with one ear on the phone and one arm on the wheel and the
other on the dog that's throwing up all over the seat next to you and all over
himself as well. ARGH!!!! So I get there, and what does the vet tell me?
What's wrong with my dog? He doesn't know. Just don't give him anything to
eat, he says. And minimal amounts of water. Then he stabs a needle in the
poor thing and tells me to bring him back in the morning. Don't get me wrong,
I know I signed on for this when I bought the cutie, but some days the darn guy
is just a bloody pain in the arse. Oh well, at least the piano has stopped.
And it's not like the man isn't musically inclined. He just can't play piano
for beans. I should have just gone to the baseball game with my brother and my
grandfather, and I hate frikkin baseball.
Erin
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