Saturday, February 18, 2012

No Joy to the World with Three Dog Night





Oh, it was a bad night.

It all began when I got home from work and -- in what has now become our daily evening procedure--rushed Elvis to the vet, before they close, so the lump on his neck can be drained. Afterward, I rewarded my sweet boy with a slow-paced walk around the block, even though it was cold, misty and dark, and I was chilled, tired and hungry. I so wanted to go home and relax, but after being poked and prodded, Elvis deserved this simple pleasure.

One hour later, walk completed, we returned home and I hightailed it to my neighbor's house to feed and walk her adorable chihuahua, Mandy, whom I was dog-sitting for the weekend. Then I returned to my place to feed Elvis and Olivia, and then take my girl for her long-awaited walk.

Keep in mind, still chilled. Still tired. Still hungry. But I wasn't done. Not yet.

Before preparing my dinner, I returned to my neighbor's house to collect Mandy. The plan was that the peanut-sized love bug would sleep with me upstairs with a baby gate blocking her access downstairs. I didn't want to take any chances that my new dog Olivia--still in training--might play too rough or worse, mistake the chubby little chihuahua for one of her stuffed squeaky toys.

But we never made it to my bedroom.

The second I stepped inside my house, cradling Mandy in my arms, Olivia went ballistic. Jumping, nipping, spinning and barking, What's that? What's in your arms? It's a toy, a new toy! A stuffed toy! A moving toy! I want it! It's mine! Gimme gimme gimme!

Mandy wriggled frantically in my arms while I spun around in circles, trying to dodge Olivia's probing needle nose that was targeting the frightened little dog like a heat-seeking missile. I was attempting to make it to the staircase, past the baby gate and out of Olivia's reach, when I suddenly heard a horrid, but all-too familiar retching sound.

Oh no.

Sure enough, still skirting Olivia, I turned to see Elvis vomiting the entire dinner he had just finished. On the Oriental carpet, of course, even though the hardwood floor was just inches to his right.

This was so not the relaxing Friday evening I'd been looking forward to.

Almost 90-
minutes later, Mandy was safely returned to her own home, the carpet was cleaned, and Elvis was treated with doggie-Kaopectate. Olivia was sleeping, no doubt dreaming of the stuffed chihuahua toy that got away.

And I finally sat down and relaxed with the only meal I could muster at that hour, excavated from the caverns of my freezer: a box of Joe-Joes, Trader Joe's Christmas peppermint cookies, washed down with a deliciously toxic, mind-numbing peppermint martini.

Because if mama ever deserved a two-punch tonic, it was on this three-dog night.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh my. If we lived closer I'd bring you adequate calories (dark chocolate with wine to wash it down). Of course we'd have to know each other, but I've read about you and Elvis since you brought home your staircase shy boy and installed the extra large doggie door. I still get the SF Chronicle in print, even as I've moved around. I do miss your weekend column and was so happy to find your blog. Only to cry when I read it all the way through.

So, delurking and saying a prayer for you and yours.

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