We drove up to Vermont this weekend to attend the wedding of one of SteveKam’s friends from work. Of course, we couldn’t go up there ahead of time to enjoy an extra day in a beautiful setting – what fun would that be? We had other stuff going, so we had to head up Saturday morning and then turn right around at the butt crack of dawn on Sunday and head back home. On the bright side, it was a really fun day and totally worth it. (I guess I’ll say it’s worth the hangover I suffered through on Sunday, too. But, Jesus… it was ROUGH.)
So, there we are in the home stretch of our 3.5 hour drive home when I get a call from my brother-in-law (he and my sis were kind enough to stop by and tend to the beasts while we were dancing and drinking the night away). He first informs me that our power is out – and has been out since the evening before. (Great. It’s 92 degrees out and we finally have someone coming to look at our condo. I hope they like their houses steamy.) So, I tell him it’s ok and thank him again for taking care of everyone.
This is where he pauses and solemnly spits out, “There was one incident.” Oh brother.
Turns out that my fatty fat fatterson cat (Tito – the oldest of the 4) decided at some point in the night that it was time for a snack. He hopped up on to the counter and knocked the giant tupperware container of food down to the ground. He and the dog then proceeded to eat the entire thing.
How do we know it was them? When Mary and Scott arrived in the morning to feed, medicate and check on everyone, they found Kyra and Tito laying there motionless. Kyra’s stomach was so bloated that she could have had a bowling ball in there. Tito’s eyes were glazed over and he barely lifted his head up to say “Me-uh”. Their water bowls were all bone dry.
Scott fills Kyra’s bowl and they both SPRING to their feet and run to the bowl as if they’d just spent a week in the Sahara. They proceed to fight over who drinks first. Scott estimates they ran through a good number of gallons while they were there. This causes Kyra to puke WATER. He takes her outside to find that it’s coming up roses out both ends of her body.
Now she is farting up a frigging storm. In a house with no air conditioning. On a 92 degree day. And a prospective buyer is coming to see the condo.
So, we again thank Scott and apologize to him for what he had to suffer through that morning. (Gross doesn’t quite cover it. Welcome to the family, guy!) and we make our way home to find our dog sprawled out on the wood floor looking like an over inflated float from the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.
She farts.
We scream.
SteveKam says quite sternly, “We have to get her out of here.”
We tidy up as best we can without the use of a vacuum cleaner and heave our canine friend into the truck for a ride. Ahhhhh, sweet wonderful air conditioning! All’s not lost! Let’s look on the bright side – it’s nice and cool in here!
She farts.
We scream and roll down both windows and then check to make sure she hasn’t actually shit in the car because HOLY LORD does it smell like she just did.
(And did I mention the terrible hangover? This really helped.)
We kill some time and tool back to our humble abode to see if the realtor’s visit has concluded. We pull into the driveway to find a red Jeep Grand Cherokee in my parking spot. We figure it is the realtor – but funny… she’s just sitting in her vehicle. Hmm. SteveKam walks over to investigate.
Yep, they came out of our condo after looking around and now her car won’t start. At this time, SteveKam’s phone starts pinging and he finds out he has to log into work to fix something.
Did I mention the power is still out?
We drop off the dog, wish the realtor luck and climb BACK into the car to head to Bethel so SteveKam can use a friend’s internet connection to log in. What fun we are having! Sundays are just great!
I take photos of butterflies while he slaves away (have to make the best of an annoying situation, right?) and before we know it we’re on our way back home again. The realtor is gone (hooray!) and our hopes are high for some cool air as we open our front door to find…. nope, power’s still out.
On the bright side, the dog is still alive.
She farts.
We scream and open all the windows increasing the temperature by 10 degrees, but improving the air quality 600%.
So, that was my Sunday. How about all of you out there in internetland? Attend a picnic? Go to the beach? Enjoy a lazy day at home? Anyone else spend hours trapped in confined spaces with a flatulent dog in 90+ temperatures? If you’re out there, consider yourself high fived.
