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Vacation
What a long, strange trip it's been. No really. No. Really. I expected a few days of serious rest and relaxation. Sleeping in, lazing about, reading to my hearts content. I did not expect my great-aunt Margaret to fall out of bed in the middle of the night. I did not expect my dog to become an adrenaline junkie. I did not expect to ever win a game of Rummy against my grandpa. All of these things happened my friends. All of these things, and more. Sure, the more exciting points of the vacation were punctuated by long stretches of reading and lazing about. We took trips (well, a trip) out on the jet ski and splashed and played and spun ourselves in a circle. We braved the herds (herds?) of Crayfish who called the clear waters of Big Island Lake home and swam in our water shoes (and let me assure you, water shoes are sexy.) We played cards and ate (and ate, and ate, and ate...) and explored the little po-dunk towns surrounding the cabin and even went gambling. Then, on the first night - it happened. I was nestled beneath the covers on the air mattress that posed as my bed for the duration of my trip when I was awakened by wet puppy nose in my face. Though he likes to make out and cuddle a lot during the day, Oliver has never ever woken me up in the middle of the night by getting in my face. Needless to say, I was a little irritated and grabbed my covers and blankets and rolled my body to the other side of the air mattress. This is a move often executed once the sun is up, as Oliver considers any sign of daylight the green light to play time. My rolling over and ignoring him usually let's him know that he's not the boss of me and I will continue sleeping until I'm good and ready to get up. It worked this time too. Then...the smell. I woke with my nose twitching. The smell was everywhere - wafting up around my head and permeating my skin so that it would stick with me for hours to come. It was the unmistakeable smell of dog poop. I flew out of bed and jumped to my feet and immediately realized that the best course of action in the dark cabin at 4:30 in the morning was probably not to take off running in search of the source of the godawful stench. So I began tiptoeing. I tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the dining room where I found Oliver happily wagging his tail at me standing in such a way that he clearly expected me to grab his ball and take him out for a quick game of fetch. The family dog, Ellie, was sacked out under the table and eyed us both with disdain. I ignored Oliver for the time being, tiptoed around the living room and the kitchen and then stood puzzled trying to figure out if such a putrid smell could possibly be just gas? Then I saw it out of the corner of my eye - a pile of something glimmering in front of the door leading to my uncle and aunt's bedroom (their dog and my dog are sworn enemies, coincidentally). I ran for the paper towels and scooped some of the mystery stink up and discovered (or confirmed) that it was, indeed, doggie diarrhea. Panic set in, I ran to the door and shooed Oliver out - no coller, no leash, no tie up. Just out. OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT. OUT! I then ran for more paper towels and scooped some more diarrhea into my hands and this time the smell hit me full force and I began heaving. There I was - running full throttle into the bathroom with doggy diarrhea dripping down my hands and bile working its way up from my stomach. I paused to wretch into the toilet, grabbed a towel off the hook and ran back out to begin scrubbing. 3 trips to rinse the towel out later, I sprayed some stinky (but in a better way) air freshener throughout the entire cabin, mentally patted myself on the back for not waking anyone in the cabin except my bunkmates (who woke to the sound of me flying out of the airmattress in the dead of night, and then became curious as to the poopy smell permeating the air) and set out to find my dog. He hadn't gone far. I threw his coller on, clipped his leash and walked him down the road for a "poop walk" - at 4:45 a.m. He pooped for about 5 more minutes - after which I was afraid to go back to sleep in case of a repeat. So we sat out on the front porch, watched the sun come up over the lake, heard my mom come out to start the coffee, and then finally returned to bed. You'd think that'd be enough right? You'd be dead wrong. That same afternoon. The same afternoon folks. I took Oliver for a "poop walk" again (something I wound up doing approximately 5 times a day as I was no longer trusting my doggy's bowels) and it all went without incident. On the way back we encountered the weekend vacationers beginning to pour in, which made for more traffic on the loosely gravelled road than we'd had all week. As the cars would pull in, I'd pull Olivers leash back and bring him towards me to sit and wait for the cars to go by. As one of the final cars approached, Oliver's butt was sticking straight into the road, so I tried to pull it in closer to me. This served to completely piss him off. It pissed him off so badly that he jumped away from me, bucked wildly until he'd shaken his coller off and then staggered backwards until he was right in the path of the oncoming car. That's right folks. Oliver was hit by a car. Luckily, the car had slowed down already at the sight of us walking the dogs (my sister had Ellie), so it only knocked him over and then tumbled him backwards for about a foot before the car came to a stop and Oliver took off running. He came to a stop about 50 feet from where the car was stopped and I stood in complete horror/shock. His ears were pinned back and his tail was between his legs and he looked absolutely terrified. But safe. Unharmed. And by the end of the evening, back to normal. For those of you counting? This is the third time that Oliver has attempted suicide. I'm supposing that he has 9 lives or something now. In any case - the dog brought the drama to this years family vacation. It was all downhill from there. Life returns to normal and now I'm back at work. Boo. Hiss. Whatever. ************************************** Reading: Finished "In Her Shoes" by Jennifer Weiner. It was excellent. It is in my top 5 books this year. I recommend it to anyone and everyone who enjoys that genre of fiction. Also finished: Girls Poker night by Jill Davis. I also really enjoyed this book. The writing style is extremely non-traditional and it takes some getting used to, but I identified very much with the main character. It's a good book to check out when you've exhausted all your summer supernovels. Am currently in between books... Recently Saw: Sex and the City last night. It was good - but left nothing to gush about. |
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