Not that my intention was to gloat. I was just celebrating the fact that I had 4 days off. You know? Happy times. Happy times.
So I didn’t accomplish half the things I needed to. And that was okay, I figured. Things go that way, and there were still 3 days left. I got the important stuff done–Scout had his surgery; I visited C’s son Chase; I got the blacklight & batteries; I got a Cap’n Crunch frappuccino (tall strawberries & cream frap with one pump hazelnut and one pump toffee nut); had that fantastic breakfast; took a few pictures of Scout; picked up my prescriptions; went to the bank; got the library books together to return tomorrow; and remembered that I forgot to take a DVD back to the rental place. So that’s a lot, right?
Scout spent much of the afternoon and evening trying to remove his cone and whimpering in frustration. He smelled bad, so I gave him the doggie equivalent of a sponge bath. He ate a little and drank a little water. He tried to poop but was obviously constipated, poor little guy. And I managed to fall asleep on the couch for a little bit despite all that.
And then I woke up and I was hungry and didn’t feel like cooking. And I realized I’d forgotten to get the prescriptions. So I put Scout in his crate and went out to get some supper and my prescriptions. I got back home, and got everything ready to go to bed.
The first surprise was when I started walking down the hall. Poor little dude had apparently, during my nap, tried again to poop with a little more success. Okay, pick it up and flush it down; I can deal with a little poop if I have to.
The second surprise was when I turned on the light in the bedroom. He’d barfed all over my bed. That poor futon mattress has now been barfed on by both dogs, and peed on by both dogs. Joe told me tonight that we’ve got to just toss it out and get a new futon mattress.
I’m lying on the couch hoping my meds kick in soon so I can get some sleep. I’m watching Meet the Robinsons for the first time, and realize how pathetic I am when Louis is frustrated because no one wants to adopt him, and I’m tearfully telling him that I would. You know, if he weren’t a cartoon character and all. Of course, I also told Chuckie Finster I’d be his mother, provided I could do so without having to marry his father. Insane, huh? What is it with me and cartoon characters anyway? When I was a kid, I wanted to marry Speed Racer when I grew up.
Sorry for that digression. I think my meds are kicking in. So when I told Joe about the poop and the barf, he justly pointed out that kids do that. I agreed, obviously, and said that I wasn’t angry. Just tired and a little frustrated. Hearing Scout whimper all evening wore me out. There was nothing I could do, but just reassure him in words that he doesn’t understand, and give him kisses and pats. And, you know, clean up the messes. He appears to be out like a light–finally–and I’m really hoping that neither dog needs to perform any more bodily functions tonight.