Monday, June 26, 2006

The Big Suckarooti

Today sucked-big time, starting with getting out of bed. I'm on vacation & the one thing I want to do (besides getting drunk on Bailey's whilst talking to Ann & Sindy, trash talking men, the need to work & the curse of being born beautiful instead of rich) was to sleep late. I didn't get to sleep late. Why? This is why.....


...he had to pee. At 7. That's in THE MORNING. While I'm on vacation. Did I mention the typhoon/monsoon/tsunami thing going on? There's no way this dog will go out in the yard in THAT. Luckily, I talked him into going back to sleep for 30 minutes...which was when I poked my head downstairs and said in my sweetest "I love you hunny you are my God my man stud my hunkahunka burnin' love" voice "sweetheart, can you let the dog out?" ...and he fell for it...err I mean he let the dog out. OK, so that part didn't suck too bad ...I did get to go back to sleep for a little while.

Finally, I rolled my beached whale of a body out of bed around 9'ish, haul it into the shower & wait to wake up. Which was right around when I noticed the shower curtains are OUTSIDE the tub as opposed to INSIDE the tub. Which means that the flooding outside is now INSIDE. Crap. There goes my relaxing shower. Who needs to relax, right? It's only a vacation for shit's sake. Who wants to relax on one of THOSE?

I call the vet & get the latest on Boo Boo Kitty. I find out he's taken a turn for the worse & the tone for the rest of the day is now set. If there was ever a need to get drunk today is IT. But, my brilliant plan has been shattered by one very important fact .... I forgot to go to the liquor store. I'll make do w/coffee instead.

I don't even bother w/doing hair or makeup ...vacation, right? Big Dog Momma tshirt + jeans + ponytail = vacation dress code. I look (and feel) like death warmed over. My eyes are red & puffy from crying over Simba, my nose is dripping like the crotch of a $5 hooker and I'm looking every year of 65 years old (I'm 39). I've just thrown the final load into the washing machine (which has been leaking since they installed it, waiting for the mysterious plumber to arrive. We've been making do w/a bucket under the pipe. (Class Act, yeah I know) and am settling down to knit a few rows. That's when the dogs start barking. Why? Plumber. Unannounced. Today. With the washer going. And he's wearing a tank top. And he's hairy. And sweaty.

It's at this point that I realize I've done something so wrong at a major karmic level. I've have pissed off some major deity or wronged a malevolent goddess....something. I say "fuck it", go downstairs, finish up a quick email to work, toss on my shoes & go see Boo Boo Kitty. That's when my day REALLY becamse the Big Suckarooti.

He looks awful...his eyes all rheumy & red, like he'd been crying, too. He barely moves, just sleeps & purrs. He refuses to eat or drink (thankfully they're pumping him full of fluids) and generally looks horrid. I miss him so's like a piece of my soul is sitting in the kennel with him. Dr. P says things aren't looking overly positive now -he's in guarded condition at best. His liver function is impaired & his blood glucose levels aren't regulated. I stayed for a few hours, as long as I could without completely going over the edge. I'm doing whatever I can to take my mind off of it (like this entry) but nothing works. I miss my Boo little punkin' man. I just want to pet his little head until he falls asleep purring on my shoulder. Maybe tonight when I sleep I'll get to do just that. Sleep well punkin' man...Momma is holding you in her heart.

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