Old Dogs

It’s eight a.m., and I can already tell it’s going to be A Day.

It all started, actually, last night.  Last night, one of our dogs,
Lucy, developed a urinary tract infection (also known as a
UTI).  Which was not pleasant for anyone, but most
especially for me, as I sleep with Lucy.  And there’s nothing
quite so special as waking up at four a.m. to find a
dachshund peeing on your chest.  Happily.  Like, “Yay!  
Look, I had to
go!

So I had to get up at four a.m. to shower, change, strip the
bed, and put on new sheets. And then I went back to bed,
only to get up again about seventeen minutes later.  For
work.  Grr.  And this is after I worked on trial preparations
until well after 2 a.m.  So the disjointed quality you see in
this essay is the direct result of an acute case of sleep
depravation, as well as a potential side effect of dog urine
poisoning.  

And guess what I discovered when I left the house?  Well.  
Know what it never,
ever does in Atlanta?  Snow.  And yet,
last night, the weather gods, in their infinite wisdom, decided
that TODAY would be a good day to release the white
wonderland on our used-to-be-warm (as in, wasn’t I wearing
a
tank top on Sunday?) city.  Sigh.  When it rains, it...snows,
I guess.  If it is cold enough.

So I got to the office, and was walking ever so slowly to
prevent wiping the hell out on the ice, when a huge geyser
of slush decided to erupt from the top of the parking garage
and fall directly on my forehead.  Which caused
me to fall
down.  And also, to have wet hair.  And also, to curse the
weather gods.

And then I went up to the office, to determine that I am the
only attorney who had even bothered coming in.  Nice!      Y’
all?  Hi.  We’re going to court at 11:30.  Some help here.  
Please.  I am smiling on the outside, but in my head, the little
paranoid girl is screaming DON’T MAKE ME GO ALONE I’M
TOO YOUNG AND PRETTY.  Like going to court is the
equivalent of going alone into the ghetto at two a.m. while
wearing sixty-three Rolexes on each arm.  (Rolexi?)  Or to
prison. Nice how my mind works.  Nice that everyone in
Atlanta feels they are snowed in because there is a quarter
inch of white shit on the ground.  Goodness, this weather
sure is...inclement.   Time to go buy bottled water and bread!

But back to my poor mind.  Know what else my mind has
already done this morning?  Enabled me to have a
ridiculously embarrassing conversation with a partner over
the phone.  Do y’all know what an IUD is?  It’s a birth control
thingy.  It is inserted in...actually, ew.  It’s too early in the
morning to use the word “inserted.”  Or any of the other
words I was going to put in that sentence.  Okay, look, if you
don’t know what an IUD is, just looky
here.  Go on.  I’ll wait.

Okay.  Now that we are all on the same page.  Remember, I
am sleep deprived.  I was
peed on last night.  I am nervous
about going to court, and also, I am just sort of borderline
crazy to start with.  

So this morning.  I was talking to the partner on the phone,
and he casually asked me about my dogs.  And because I
was not thinking–
at all–I told him that one of my dogs was
actually sick.  And I was going to tell him about the urinary
tract infection, or UTI, but instead, this is how the
conversation went down:

                                
Partner
                So, how are your dogs doing?

                             Miss Doxie
                  Fine.  They’re fine, thanks.  
                     Except one has an IUD.

(Notice.  A UTI?  The infection.  IUD?  The device for
inserting, discussed above.)

                                Partner
                          One has...what?

                             Miss Doxie
                         An IUD. You know.

                                Partner
                               Your dog?

                             Miss Doxie
                                   Yes.

                                Partner
         I thought...well.  I didn’t know animals
                        could get...IUDs.

                             Miss Doxie
             Oh, yes.  Anyone can get an IUD.

                                Partner
                            Well, not men.

                             Miss Doxie
       Oh, yeah.  Men, too.  You’ve never had one?  

                                Partner
                             What?!  No!

                             Miss Doxie
                    Well, they suck.  Yeah,
                  anyone can have an IUD.

                                Partner
                           They can not!

                             Miss Doxie
                Sure they can!  I mean, if you
                can pee, you can get an IUD.

                                Partner
                    GAH!  No!  Where would...
                        where would it go?
        
                             Miss Doxie
                       Where...what now?  

                                Partner
           I mean, where would a man put it?

                             Miss Doxie
         Ew.  Well, I’m sure you can imagine.

                                Partner
               No.  As a matter of fact, I can’t.  
       I thought that an IUD kept you from getting         
                               pregnant.

                             Miss Doxie
           Well, maybe...that’s a side effect?  
                      I’ve never heard that.

                                Partner
                    What?!  A side effect?

                             Miss Doxie
           Well, I don’t know.  I’m not a doctor.

                                Partner
     But...!  But an IUD is a birth control device!

                             Miss Doxie
            A...what?  No!  An IUD is...is...oh.

                                Partner
                A BIRTH CONTROL DEVICE.

                             Miss Doxie
        Yes.  And this conversation is beginning
            to make a lot more sense right now.

Okay, so it has been established that I am a dumbass.  This
is sort of like the time I had to lead a zillion people around on
a campus tour at my college, and instead of telling them that
the location was a national arboretum, as it stated in my
script, I helpfully informed them that they were standing in
the middle of an
arbitrary.   A national one.   Apparently, this
is a definition I made up for a word that already had a
perfectly acceptable definition.  One that has nothing to do
with trees.

Or the time I informed someone that they needed to get off
of my propitory.  When you take your property?  And your
territory?  And you put them together?  That’s your
propitory.  Just so you know.  This word I made up
completely.  Don't steal it.  It's mine.

Sigh.  Well, off to court.  Y’all wish me luck.  But honestly, if I
have any more run-ins with falling ice, or pee, or UTIs, or
IUDs, or anything else with initials today? I’m going AWOL.  
And I'm taking my propitory with me.   

Initial Impressions

Home

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Old Dogs

New Tricks

Speak!

Step on a crack, break your mother's...DAMN!  
This is kind of difficult when you're blind.
Sorry, Mom.

Special love box!

The following people are the
coolest.  For varying reasons.

My
AB don't mess around,
because she loves me so, and
this I know fo sho.

Lauren don't want to hear me,
she just wants to DANCE.

Coleen knows what's cooler than
cool--ICE COLD!

Allison don't want to meet your
DADdy.

Hannah Beth just wants you in
her CADdy.

Amy don't want to meet your
MOMma.

And Miss
Sarah B. is shaking it
like a polaroid picture RIGHT
NOW.

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There's an  IUD in that UTI.  Ok?  Ok.