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Vay-Cay-Shun, All I Ever Wanted

March 10, 2005

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:


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.



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.

Posted by doxie in The Dogs (Or, Poop) | permalink


The Birthday Week should totally be a rule and the way it is and IT SHOULD BE A LAW. Everyone deserves a week where they are showered with love and money and booze and, yes, (INDEED YES) - cute shoes.

Have fun on your trip!

Posted by: Emily | March 10, 2005 11:48 PM

For my birthday I get to take final exams. Enjoy your week of booze and towels!

Posted by: Rachael | March 10, 2005 11:53 PM

Our two dogs also hate being boarded at the vet, and expressed themselves just as thoroughly. My wife and I, being weak-willed people easily dominated by two small creatures who seem to spend most of their time sniffing other dog's/their own butts, finally broke down and boarded them with a slightly more expensive special dog-boarding business. No more poop on the floors. I think we've made back the extra money we spent by not buying gallons of Nature's Miracle.

Posted by: dan | March 11, 2005 08:32 AM

I am all about the birthday week celebration. In fact, my friends and I are in the midst of what we call the 'Birthday Week Skankstravaganza' and I am pretty sure my liver is not enjoying it. Have a great time in Charleston!

Posted by: Morgan | March 11, 2005 09:06 AM

Yay for vacation! Because really, everyone should celebrate an octave of their birthday. At the very least, a Triduum.

Also, I can see your dogs staring at you with the Sadness and Hate. I am sure they will love you very much when you return, though.

Posted by: Coleen | March 11, 2005 09:38 AM

Ah, thank you, Miss Doxie, for sharing this special story. I laughed so hard I cried. And I read it at work, so I had to laugh and cry silently, at my desk. Some of my co-workers are now firmly convinced that I have issues.

I hope you enjoy your lovely vacation.

Posted by: jcc | March 11, 2005 09:46 AM

Our boy-dog digs, and our girl dog doesn't, even though they've both lost the equivalent parts. Of course, the boy dog can tell what's missing, and perhaps that's what he's looking for.

Posted by: Mark | March 11, 2005 10:49 AM

I'm going to have to stop checking your site when I'm at work. I'm pretty sure no one believes this pile of paperwork on my desk is what's making me giggle uncontrollably.

Posted by: LadyBug | March 11, 2005 10:57 AM

Have fun on your birthday vacation. You and your guy deserve it. And your little turd-bucket will be thrilled to see you when you return.

My poor boyfriend, Bo. How does he put up with all of us?

Posted by: suz | March 11, 2005 11:34 AM

Oh girl, I ALWAYS stretch my birthday into a week-long celebration. I may, on occasion, stretch it out all month, if I can. Have a fabulous time in Charleston, with the clean towels and all.

Posted by: Heather | March 11, 2005 11:55 AM

I'm with Heather. My friends and I celebrate "birth month" whenever possible. You've got ALL OF MARCH to celebrate. Have fun!

Posted by: Melinda | March 11, 2005 12:41 PM

I don't know about dogs. (Sorry, hope I am still welcome on the site!) But I LOVE Charleston because there are pretty houses and fun bars. Have a great time!!!

Posted by: Miruni | March 11, 2005 01:19 PM

Bo's shit has me laughing so hard I am CRYING! That's some funny shit.

Posted by: Kathryn | March 11, 2005 01:26 PM

Delurking to say that this made me laugh out loud. And I am still laughing. And will probably continue for a while. I have a dachshund of my own and totally know what you are talking about. Have a great time in Charleston! And now I think I'll go read it again...
(of course, this is the kind of thing that is only funny when it happens to other people, sorry about that)

Posted by: Catharina | March 11, 2005 02:25 PM

Bwahaha, dump of displeasure! I hope you have leather seats.

Posted by: Sheryl | March 11, 2005 04:59 PM


It is in my world. Mine is in one month and the boyfriend showed me how well trained he's become over the years by saying to me this week, so, your birthday is coming up what if we do this...


Posted by: amy | March 11, 2005 06:22 PM

Probably on y'alls way to Charleston as I type, so I hope a good time was had and that the dogs made it to the vet in a mannered fashion.

Posted by: smartjuice | March 11, 2005 06:27 PM

Looking for lost balls? Oh that is so Faulkner-ian of you Miss Doxie . . I'm expecting Jason to start driving wild circles any minute now-- and that little slut daughter of Caddie's to come climbing down the veranda . . or something like that.

Posted by: bluepoppy | March 11, 2005 08:02 PM

oh my, and I thought it was just my Little Bit who could out poop the Rotties when tiffed. Oh dear, that was a terrible thing to say about the princess! I'll pay for that comment. When you are done with the paper towel pass it my way . . .
love to y'all! Suze

Posted by: Suzanne | March 11, 2005 11:54 PM

oh dear. poor babies. hopefully they will come back and sleep for a week, that's what ours do after the "doggie spa" - this would be what we call it to make ourselves feel better.

headed to Charleston ourselves for a wedding in May - please do post highlights (aside from the towels)!

Posted by: megan | March 12, 2005 12:44 AM

I love you. Bring back wine.

Posted by: Hannah Beth | March 12, 2005 08:26 AM

I was rather impressed by that one sentence/whole paragraph thing. But then again when I read your journal, sometimes I like to hold up a lighter to my monitor like I'm at a Def Leppard concert or something.

Posted by: doug | March 12, 2005 02:33 PM

argh. now I have that song in my head...
hope you had fun! :)

Posted by: Aimee | March 14, 2005 01:27 PM

If we were to bet that it was more shit than El Dukay produces in a solid (not squushy) month, we would need some, um, method of measurement.

Posted by: Rick | March 15, 2005 05:39 PM

I am again humiliated due to my out-of-control silent laughing at work. That is so embarrasing!
I absolutely ADORE your doxie stories, especially the Bo stories cuz he's such a lovely little demon. I do doxie rescue and know ALL about demonic little wieners.

Posted by: Beth | March 16, 2005 04:14 PM

Now there's a great rock band name - "Demonic Little Weiners"

Posted by: mramunds | March 18, 2005 09:25 PM

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