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bodlonSo the Plan, as I had envisioned it, was this:
- wake up
- dink about
- go downtown for lunch/coffee/writing
- come home around 6-ish
- eat dinner and cake and watch Doctor Who with mom
- share leftover cake and dinner with J after his night classes
- get stuff ready for tomorrow
- bed
It was a good plan. I was happy to be a part of it. In fact, I was doing a fine job when I walked out the door at about 1:05 PM with the intention of catching a bus into town.
And then Gwen came bursting out of the treeline and barreled up to me covered in the most incredibly foul smelling stuff.
To her credit, I did not have to chase her.
When I say "foul smelling," you have to understand that I am fairly robust in my ability to handle a stink. Skunks up close are an irritant, but I don't find the smell of one passing by particularly offensive. It's just a smell. When the dishes hit crisis point, I am one in our house with the fortitude and lack of self-preservation skills who handles it. The only time I came within a hair's breadth of being physically sick at a smell was the time I encountered a truly rotten deer carcass and poked it with a stick because I was curious.
(Look, I was young. I didn't know any better. This is how we learn.)
Whatever Gwen had got into, it was greasy and foul, and she'd rolled around in it. Worse, anything she touched with the contaminated areas took the smell on, too.
So I hauled her directly to the tub. I had no choice. It was that or Let The Smell Win. I had to shoot first, like Han Solo.
My mother, bless her, had already gone out looking by this point. Somebody got a hell of a hug when she came home looking shattered at losing one of my dogs on my birthday. Somebody else -- and that somebody has four paws, a loud mouth, smells of shampoo, and is wearing a freshly laundered collar -- is Never Allowed Outside Again.
(We're not 100% sure how she got out. She escaped sometime between mom getting her mail and letting the dogs in, and she's bolted through the gate once before. I walked the fence and couldn't find anything obvious, so my theory is she must have slipped out without mom noticing. I'll check the fence again tonight, though.)
As alarming as it all was, though, I feel kind of wonderful/lucky about it. Nobody lost, nobody hurt, and there will be lots of marvelous clean towels in the dryer when I get home. The Powers That Be got a special thank you today for sure. Incense and milk and the last of the sugar cookies.
It's a reminder, too, that I need to take the girls in to get them current on shots and things as well. I've made an appointment for 11 AM on the 20th.
- wake up
- dink about
- go downtown for lunch/coffee/writing
- come home around 6-ish
- eat dinner and cake and watch Doctor Who with mom
- share leftover cake and dinner with J after his night classes
- get stuff ready for tomorrow
- bed
It was a good plan. I was happy to be a part of it. In fact, I was doing a fine job when I walked out the door at about 1:05 PM with the intention of catching a bus into town.
And then Gwen came bursting out of the treeline and barreled up to me covered in the most incredibly foul smelling stuff.
To her credit, I did not have to chase her.
When I say "foul smelling," you have to understand that I am fairly robust in my ability to handle a stink. Skunks up close are an irritant, but I don't find the smell of one passing by particularly offensive. It's just a smell. When the dishes hit crisis point, I am one in our house with the fortitude and lack of self-preservation skills who handles it. The only time I came within a hair's breadth of being physically sick at a smell was the time I encountered a truly rotten deer carcass and poked it with a stick because I was curious.
(Look, I was young. I didn't know any better. This is how we learn.)
Whatever Gwen had got into, it was greasy and foul, and she'd rolled around in it. Worse, anything she touched with the contaminated areas took the smell on, too.
So I hauled her directly to the tub. I had no choice. It was that or Let The Smell Win. I had to shoot first, like Han Solo.
My mother, bless her, had already gone out looking by this point. Somebody got a hell of a hug when she came home looking shattered at losing one of my dogs on my birthday. Somebody else -- and that somebody has four paws, a loud mouth, smells of shampoo, and is wearing a freshly laundered collar -- is Never Allowed Outside Again.
(We're not 100% sure how she got out. She escaped sometime between mom getting her mail and letting the dogs in, and she's bolted through the gate once before. I walked the fence and couldn't find anything obvious, so my theory is she must have slipped out without mom noticing. I'll check the fence again tonight, though.)
As alarming as it all was, though, I feel kind of wonderful/lucky about it. Nobody lost, nobody hurt, and there will be lots of marvelous clean towels in the dryer when I get home. The Powers That Be got a special thank you today for sure. Incense and milk and the last of the sugar cookies.
It's a reminder, too, that I need to take the girls in to get them current on shots and things as well. I've made an appointment for 11 AM on the 20th.
