After several weeks of trying to determine whether I had died and been dismissed straight to the hottest depths of hell, or that the sun might actually be orbiting around the Earth and at a proximity so close, it was once thought to be scientifically impossible, we finally saw some relief from the unbearable heat wave this past weekend. Good thing, because I wasn’t sure I had enough Klonopin left to make it through another weekend cooped up in the apartment with the boys.
On Saturday we enjoyed a beautiful 5 mile walk, during the last half of which Nugget protested by parking his rear in the grass and refusing to move every 20 feet. He was totally killing my stats on my Android Noom workout tracking app! We eventually made it home and they both crashed, but B was determined to use me as a guinea pig in his new work out plan so we headed to the gym. He wanted to start me off lifting 8,000lbs, but I struggled so we dropped it to 10lbs. He made me do all kinds of fancy sh*t and on Sunday, I was fairly certain I would be needing a wheelchair for the rest of my life… or at the very least, for the next week. But he had to pack and hit the road for a work trip… convenient, right? Paralyze me and then leave me? I’m selling the story to Lifetime.
Since I couldn’t move, I prayed the boys would be entertained with some frozen peanut butter Kongs or any of the rest of their 319 toys … or even the box of matches I carelessly left on the coffee table. For the most part, this worked… until it didn’t because Nugget was hoarding Kongs. And anyway, Oscar got diarrhea from the peanut butter and one time he didn’t quite make it outside, but thankfully he only soiled the (NEW!!!) rug by the door. By bedtime, I was SURE he had to be empty since the amount of poo I saw come out of him was roughly equal to at least half his body weight.
In the morning, I realized just how wrong I’d been. Oddly enough, I didn’t smell anything (my guess is that I’ve cleaned up so much by this point that I’m actually immune to it), but the entire hallway to the front door was spotted with Oscar’s liquid poo. This brings to mind a deeply burning question, which often keeps me up at night – OSCAR, WHY CAN’T YOU STAND IN ONE SPOT AND POOP?!?!?!
I texted by boss to let him know I’d be late and then proceeded to pick up poo, dry heave, scrub, dry heave, rinse, repeat. I was just about to get in the shower and get ready for work when I discovered more of the same in my bedroom. Consistent with his previous design work, this too was all over the room, though with a delightful new twist – IT WAS SPRAYED ALL OVER THE WALL, TOO! I texted my boss to let him know I was taking a personal day and began cleaning and steaming the carpets and did not finish for 5 hours, though I estimate I could have completed it in 3 had my legs and arms not been screaming and threatening to detach from my body and run away, still from Saturday's workout.
Fast forward to Wednesday – only because Tuesday was a non-event as they were both exhausted from daycare and draped sloppily about my furniture, lifeless and... (God Bless America) QUIET! I got home from work on Wednesday and we began our normal routine of hugs, kisses, wiggles, more kisses and then outside for a potty walk. As per usual, dinner was served immediately upon return from that walk, lest they would have attacked and eaten me for dinner like the savages they are.
I commenced with my own post-work routine of changing out of my work clothes and then sat on the couch to check important emails. (Fine, it was Facebook and I was playing Words with Friends). The next thing I know, Nugget turns around and attacks Oscar and they become engaged in a vicious fight. It didn’t last but maybe 10 seconds before I could break it up, but it felt more like 10 minutes. I immediately tossed Oscar into his crate and gated Nugget in the hall by the door. My plan was to leave them that way until probably the year 2017 or at least long enough for me to find my Klonopin and all of us to calm down. That plan derailed when I turned around and saw blood. Not just a little blood, rather something you might see if you stumbled upon the scene of a recent gun fight where 96 people bled to death. I looked over at Oscar and he was standing in a pool of blood in his crate. Additionally, he kept shaking and blood was splattering everywhere.
After a brief moment of seriously questioning my will to live and contemplating the possibility of darting out into rush hour traffic – preferably into the semi lane – I scrambled to find my phone and call B. That’s a testament in itself to my exorbitantly elevated level of stress and already abnormal and unclear thinking since I knew he was 30,000 miles above Michigan… (or was it Iowa? Brazil maybe?) en route to Chicago from New York for work. I don’t really know where exactly he was because my knowledge of geography (or a clear lack thereof) is obviously a little shady and I honestly should have never been promoted beyond the 4th grade, but I think teachers just got tired of me. Regardless, what the heck did I think he was going to do about this from 542,237 miles away? Exactly! I wasn’t thinking… which is why my next course of action was to call my mom. My mom lives in Kentucky, which is another 21,869 miles away. Fine it’s only like 500 miles, but I read once that a fast-moving turtle can travel about 1 mile in a day. Do you realize if I was a turtle it would take me a year and a half of walking to go visit my mom?! I love my mom, but that’s hardly worth it. Sorry mom. Thank God I’m not a turtle… and anyway, that would be really hard to explain. I digress.
Long story short (HA!), I figured out the bleeding was coming from his ear. In short order, I was able to get the bleeding to stop because I’m basically a dog first aid ninja. I called the vet and we headed over for him to be checked out. Dr. White glued his ear back together. The gash only ended up being about ½ inch, but Dr. White confirmed that ears tend to bleed viciously… Thanks for the late-breaking, I’m pretty sure I have physical evidence of such soaked into my freshly steam-cleaned carpets and walls. Osc will be fine and Nugget will be going through some intense self-evaluation exercises to get his moral compass back in line. Obviously skipping church has not been serving us well since the “Thou shalt not kill” commandment has seemingly escaped him. Who am I to judge? It escaped me too, for a minute. But for now, I think we’re all friends again.