dogsitting is for the turds

25 Mar

No one ever told me that salon dog shampoo was an option. No one ever told me that you could spend more money on dog vitamins than you do on a car payment. I also was never informed that certain dogs can be more annoying than standing in the self check out line at Wal-Mart behind someone with two buggies full of canned goods who chooses to write a check.

I agreed to dog sit for two dogs who looked like dust ruffles. They were super annoying and slept for ten minutes per night. When they weren’t sleeping they were standing on the floor next to the bed whimpering for me to put them in bed with me. They were named Martin and Merryl, and they were 100 years old.

I didn’t mind going over there because they had a cool house and lots of food, and they paid me a lot of money to sit at their house and hang out.

One night me and about eight girlfriends were sitting around watching a movie, and the two dust ruffles were laying in the floor, collecting dust. All of the sudden, Merryl jumped up, trotted three circles around Martin, then mounted him. He just laid there and let it happen. After Merryl was finished humping Martin and had a cigarette, she went to the foot of the stairs and started whining. The previous night, I learned that this was my cue to carry her furry ass up the stairs. Lord knows she wasn’t going to bust a calorie and do it herself.

The next morning consisted of the regular routine of mixing 27 pills in half a can of regular dog food and half a can of organic dog food (because the full organic can upsets their stomachs). Then I went off to work. I was exhausted and it was only 8:15 AM.

When I got home, I noticed that Merryl was scuffling a little slower than normal. She looked like she might pass away at any moment. I looked closer and realized what her problem was. There was half of a turd hanging out of her butt, and she was crying. I started to cry with her, because I didn’t know what to do. I called my friend Josh and told him I needed him to get here instantly.

About twenty seconds later Josh arrived with a gun, a first aid kit and a hammer. He said he wasn’t sure what I needed so he wanted to be prepared. I looked at him, snatched his gear and threw it on the ground.

“Are you okay? I just drove 80 miles an hour to get here.”

“That’s very chivalrous, Josh, and no I’m not okay. Look at her.”

Josh looked at her and his mouth dropped open.

“Why didn’t you tell me this over the phone?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t come.”

I smiled at him and patted his arm like a coach would at a little league game.

“I’m not pulling that dog shit out.”

“Josh, please? I don’t know what to do. She might explode internally.You can’t call 911 about something like this.”

I created fake tears in an attempt to get his cooperation.

He wadded up about seventeen paper towels in his hand and told me to hold her head and he would pull it out. After convincing me this was the only way to do the deed, I pulled on Merryl’s head, he pulled on Merryl’s half-turd and we started the game of turd tug-o-war. After about 3 minutes we were still tugging.

I got nervous and started to sweat. I decided that I needed to call the owners because Merryl was now shaking and I was scared she was going burst onto the kitchen floor. I ran to the phone and called the owner. The conversation went something like this:

Bonnie: Hello Kari?
Kari: Hi Bonnie. I have a question.
Bonnie: What? Are the babies okay?
Kari: Well, yes and no.
Bonnie: That doesn’t make sense.
Kari: I know.
Bonnie: Are you going to tell me what’s going on?
Kari: Yes. Merryl is constipated and I tried to pull it out but nothing is happening.
Bonnie: Oh, this happens a lot.
Kari: Great! Do you have a certain pill for that?
Bonnie: No. You just need to put her in the bathtub and run some warm water in there. Splash it up on her bottom until the stool is soft, then remove it, and give her a full bath with her organic salon dog shampoo.
Kari: Great. Thanks.

I hung up the phone, looked at the dog, looked at Josh, went in the bathroom and threw up. I came back out and announced what we were supposed to do.

“I’m not doing that.”

“We have to, Josh. We have to.”

He looked at me and shook his head.

“No, we don’t.”

He grabbed another wad of paper towels and went back to tugging. He told me to go inside and not come out until he told me to. I went inside and started praying, and put a pillow over my head so I didn’t have to listen in case he accidentally killed Merryl.

Josh stuck his head in the door and said, “I think the issue isn’t constipation as much as it is about a week’s worth of crap getting caught on the dog’s ass hair and caking up, eventually blocking it’s ability to poop at all. The old, dried up dog crap cake is like petrified wood, and it is practically super-glued to her butt. I’m going outside again.”

Thirty minutes later, he walked back in. No words were spoken. He took the wad of now brown paper towels, put them in the garbage, washed his hands with bleach, and stood silently in the kitchen. He turned, looked at me, turned toward the door and exited without a word.

Merryl came trotting in and sat down next to her food bowl. As Josh left, Merryl wagged her tail uncontrollably while she went to the window to watch him drive away. I swear she had a smile on her fuzzy face. There was a little piece of paper towel dangling from her butt fur.

sanitize

17 Jan

she will not be catching any germs.

guess who’s coming to dinner?

16 Jan

our parents always told us, “never open the door for a stranger!” oops.

one night i was enjoying a quiet evening at home, getting ready for a party that my roommate, kristy, and i were hosting the next night. i could not wait to spend the whole evening at home, making appetizers and hanging pictures and not having to talk to anyone.

suddenly, my heart skipped a few beats as i heard a knock on the door. all good horror films begin with The Knock.

i slowly crept over to the door in hopes that he couldn’t hear E! News blaring. i peered through the peephole, holding my breath. i saw a guy about my age in a stellar pin striped suit holding a bottle of wine. every murder mystery i had ever seen was flashing through my mind.

i whispered to myself, “he’s the charmer. he is going to make his way in here and sweep me right off my feet, and then sweep my body right into the sewer drain.”

i said a quick prayer, and he said hello.

i looked again. somehow he could see me through the peephole. shit. he must have cameras set up inside my house and he is throwing his voice because he’s also a ventriloquist and probably knows a way to dispose of my body so that no one will even know i ever existed!

i finally pulled myself together and thought maybe he was just on a blind date at the wrong apartment, which made much more sense than the ridiculous story my brain had just concocted. i cracked the door open with one hand and held a knife in the other.

“yes?” i demanded.

“um, hi — i’m ron, kristy’s friend? i rsvp’d. is the party…not…tonight?” he asked as his voice trailed off as he looked inside and saw nobody except ryan seacrest on the television.

one hour later, we were new best friends. and thank goodness he didn’t wear the same suit to the real party the next night.

See my barf bag, you jerk?

7 Dec

Showing a cop your barf bag does not get you out of getting a ticket. My eve of defeat began as I was driving up the 405 from Santa Monica and was overcome with nausea. I grabbed a reusable grocery bag from my backseat and projectile vomited into it. I approached the 101, knowing that in just a few more exits I would be home. I felt a stream of warm liquid begin to fill my lap. I looked down and noticed that the vomit was leaking from the bag into my lap. Thanks alot, Ralph’s. I got off on my exit and threw up again. I was now only one block away. I’m barfing again, and the light was turning yellow. I went on, knowing that if I didn’t get home quickly I would have vomit flooding out of the windows. Then I saw it. The cop lights behind me.

“Miss, you ran through the light.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, I am throwing up into this bag and need to get home. I’m one block away.”

“You ran the light.”

“I do not believe I did. Sir, I am one block away from my friends’ Ashley and Oliver’s home where I’m staying. I am actually looking out for others because if I do not get off this road ASAP I could become a hazard to others on the road. What if I get sick again? It’s been proven that you cannot throw up with your eyes open. That means I would be driving with my eyes closed and could potentially run off the road. That’s not safe at all. Safety first, you know?”

“How long have you lived in California? You have a Georgia tag. You have ten days from your arrival to change everything over.”

I was praying that I could suddenly projectile vomit onto his feet.

“Well, I move into my new apartment tomorrow.”

“I’m writing you a ticket for running the light, and notating that you have ten days to get a new license and registration or else.”

“Or else? Can I at least get out to throw away my throw up, please Sergeant?”

“Just sit tight.”

I continued to sit on the side of the road in front of Universal Studios and stare at the building that I was headed to which was in plain sight.

The ticket came in the mail. It’s $480.00.

I’ll be seeing him in court. Stay tuned.

 

 

Somebody Couldn’t Wait

7 Dec

It’s unfortunate. But, I suppose, it happens to the best of us.