Vay-Cay-Shun, All I Ever Wanted
Tomorrow, El Dukay and I are taking the day off work and going to Charleston, South Carolina, for the weekend, to stay in a hotel with clean sheets and clean towels (this morning I may have been, uh, OUT of clean towels and supplied a disgusted and wet El Dukay with four HAND TOWELS with which to dry his very substantial frame after his shower. This may have happened because I am a shitty housekeeper, but shut up), and to see architecture and do shopping and to celebrate my birthday AGAIN, because I am a bratty, bratty girl who thinks my birthday should be celebrated in a week-long extravaganza of parties and drinking, and can you believe that this whole paragraph is ONE SENTENCE?
It is. Oops.
Anyway. Our trip means I have to board the dogs, which they HATE, OH THEY HATE THAT, and they are right now this second sitting on the sofa and glaring at me with little daggers of hate, because They Know.
They Know, because they saw the suitcase, and their two brain cells collided together in an epiphany of understanding, and that epiphany said:
Clothes Box = Mom leaving = Evil bad vet place where one time I woke up and MY BALLS WERE GONE.
They remember, y'all. Sometimes, I catch Bo looking forlornly at the place his balls used to be. I also think that is what they are looking for when they dig in the yard. I think they are saying, "Is this where they hid my balls? They must be around here SOMEwhere," and then I feel guilty, and this drives me to drink. Y'all know.
So I'm all excited about our trip (see: clean towels), but I am feeling unreasonably guilty about the boarding thing. The dogs all just got back from the vet, because February was Dental Awareness Month, and that does not apply to me, who did NOT go to the dentist, but it did apply to the dogs. I had all four of their evil little teeth cleaned, and they have to be put under for that, and they DO NOT LIKE IT, NO.
When I took them to the vet, I took Tasha in first, and left Bo in the car. (I have to take them two at a time. I am not a superhero, people. I can only do so much.) Well, while I dropped Tasha off, and signed the paperwork, I could see Bo in the car, just...looking at me. And he was Mad. Boy, was he Mad. This is what was happening in Bo's brain:
Bo's Brain: MAD. MAD MAD ANGRY. HATE MOM. AT PLACE WHERE BALLS WENT. BO SO, SO MAD RIGHT NOW. BO GET...BO GET REVENGE.
So then I went out to get him, and had to wrestle him out of the front seat, where he'd hidden himself behind my purse, and my heart broke into fifty million tiny pieces as I lifted his Angry, Angry self out of the car and took him into the vet, whining all the way, and looking at me with those big, puppy dog eyes.
AND IT WAS SO SAD. GIVE ME A MINUTE.
Ahem. So. I get him in there, and they take him away, and I went back to my car. Where I discovered, on the back seat, the LARGEST PILE OF SHIT you have ever SEEN in your natural life.
Y'all, let's recall: Bo is a dachshund. That pile of shit was LARGER than Bo. It is like he had been saving it for weeks. I would be willing to bet that it was more shit than Dukay produces in a solid month. The pile itself was so tremendous that I CANNOT FIGURE OUT how Bo managed to expel said shit from his body without getting up on his two front legs to allow the CASCADE OF FILTH that spewed forth from his behind. It was a miracle. A miracle of unhappiness. It was a dump of displeasure.
So, I had to go BACK into the vet, where they loaded me up with paper towels ("I'll probably...uh, yeah, I'm going to need that whole roll," I had to tell the skeptical receptionist), and a trash bag, and then I had the intense pleasure of trying to clean forty-three pounds worth of excrement from the back seat of my CAR.
Basically, you can imagine how psyched I am about making that trip tomorrow morning. It should be awesome. Look, I'm feeding all the dogs cheese and Immodium, and nobody can stop me.
But if any of y'all are in the Charleston area, and you see two people roaming the city, looking confused and clutching hotel towels in their hands, well.
That's totally not me.