show me the ruffy!
December 20, 2005
We meow, she howls. She’s an attention whore.
This morning I had to take Miss Ruffy Doodle* to the new vet for her shots. I snagged a new vet this year because the last guy got suspended for killing a cat. Nice. 3 month suspension for killing a cat by accident. Should have given him a medal, or at least a pat on the back. I’m not a fan of the kitties. Deal.
So I bundle up Troll Baby and strap him into his stroller, and I’m armed with a sippy cup full of milk, crackers, keys, wallet, chain saw….all the normal crap that keeps an overheated baby distracted when you’re waiting in a waiting room, waiting and waiting.
We head out into the driving snow for a *lovely* 25 minute walk which was more like ice skating. I’m sure to Troll Baby, bouncing around in his ride must have felt like I had stuck him in the paint shaker at Canadian Tire because the assholes who plow snow are either drunk, drugged or blind. Thank God Ruffy is the stroller equivalent to 4 wheel drive because she pulled us there, however lopsided her effort.
So we arrive 10 minutes early because I’m anal about shit like that, and after they weighed Ruffy (a whopping 85 lbs!), we have to wait. Troll Baby is pointing to EVERYTHING in the waiting room and saying “Was sat? Was sat?” and I’m naming off EVERYTHING he points to, all the while trying to keep Miss Sniffy Paws sitting proper like a lady.
I know she is anxious because of all the smells and the 56 year old Paris-Hilton-Wannabe-with-a-small-dog-in-her-purse-lady who is pacing back and forth in front of my girl. Ruffy desperately wanted to play with that chew toy of a dog, and I must have said “sit” about 30 gazillion times. Fuck.
“Was sat?”
“Fish.”
“Was sat?”
“Book.”
“Was sat?”
“Doggie Biscuits.”
“Was sat?”
“Chair.”
“Was sat?”
“Magazine. Sit Ruffy.”
“Was sat?”
“Kitty Cat. Shit!”
Ruffy went apeshit at the sound of those magic words and I lost control of her. She was pulling hard on the leash and cutting off the circulation to Troll Baby’s legs. Back and forth, her head was everywhere, her neck strained as she tried to free herself from my death grip to find the kitty cat that the lady-who-feeds-me-bacon-and-cheese spoke of. She starts doing her weird, high-pitched twittering sound, which sounds like a baby bird caught in the spokes of a moving bicycle or fan blades. Not quite dead, and still making torturous noises. I am embarrassed FOR her when she pulls this, because she does not sound fierce like a dog of her size surely should. She’s like a Hummer with a Honda horn.
The whole time, I’m trying to stay calm and not freak on her because I don’t want the nice vet people to know I yell at my dog, that she knows the command “fuck off**,” and then call doggie protective services on me. The stroller popped a wheelie and Troll Baby almost met the floor. At the sound of my firm voice, her ass backed up and threw a table off kilter, toppling the lovely Christmas tree they had out, as well as fourteen thousand magazines. I looked up and saw the two receptionists staring at me. Ruffy was all like:
“Want me to take Ruffy?” One offered.
(Gee, you think?)
Troll Baby starts crying and within 20 seconds, the doctor is ready to see us. Shit - I should have tried that trick earlier!
Ruffy got her two shots in the ass, I paid through the nose, shoved the sippy cup into Troll’s mouth and we bobsledded back. I actually ran most of the way because my girlfriend Jen was coming to visit this morning and I hadn’t seen her in ages.
After Jen had come and gone (she looks SO good - must start walking again tomorrow to look as good as Jen), Big D came home from work early and we decided to Christmas shop. With Troll. Sans nap. I’m not gonna get all Mommy-blog on your ass (yawn), but I will say we stopped at the liquor store. Hooray!
Fast forward through the grocery store, Pet food store and making dinner for kids and hubby. I didn’t eat with them because I had every intention of having a salad. Instead I ate 5 peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of egg nog for dinner. I heard if you drink double the amount of water (in ounces), as you took in, in fat grams, you will offset your intake. So if you eat 5 grams of fat, you should drink 10 ounces of water. I’m floatin’ baby.
*Doodle really is her middle name.
** She really does go and lay down when I tell her to fuck off. I don’t say this in front of my kids so don’t EVEN email me about it.
December 21st, 2005 at 9:37 am
Our dog Toby, constantly YAWNS..let me tell you, she has the loudest yawn I’ve ever heard. Really tho’ wtf does she have to yawn about. pfft
December 21st, 2005 at 10:00 am
Great post! I think my dog knows the fuck off command too. In his case, it means get out of my way and off the garage stairs. NOW!
Of course, I love my dog.
December 21st, 2005 at 11:47 am
LOL! That brings back fond memories of taking our 100 lb mutt to the vet. It was always much more interesting with the Rugrat. The vet was always awesome, as soon as Cesar started to act up trying to eat all the other animals (you’d think they’d have “large animal day” or somthing) we’d get ushered into another room where he’d calm down and stop trying to hang himself on his collar.
December 21st, 2005 at 1:16 pm
ROFL!!!!!! The thing is I can SOOOOo picture all of this!
QUIET THE FACE! LOL
Hugs,XOXOXO
December 21st, 2005 at 4:13 pm
Sounds like us at the vet. Only we are always incredibly bright (as in, we’ve done this more than once) and schedule both dogs and a cat to get their shots on the same day. Since, well, getting a vet appointment is apparently tricky or something.
December 21st, 2005 at 6:20 pm
Hah! My dog goes NUTS at the word “kitty”, she runs to the nearest window (s) or shoves her nose against the door and sniffs. I don’t know why, because when she gets around a cat that won’t back off, she just ends up being intimidated by it and its claws.
December 22nd, 2005 at 6:15 am
That attention whore picture is hilarious! Oh, if only you could buy a t-shirt with it on, that would be perfect!
Regards, Col.
(check out my blog in return please!)
December 22nd, 2005 at 9:58 am
Hey, Karen,
Hubby was looking over my shoulder and saw the “attention whore” picture. He wanted to know if that was you. I said I didn’t think so since you were way up in Canada. But it certainly got his attention!
December 23rd, 2005 at 1:28 pm
Haha Karen, Shadow loves cats! He mother hens all our cats…and I think he knows the fuck off command too, but he never follows it anyway, he has selective hearing.
xoxo
Jessica
December 29th, 2005 at 11:45 pm
TOO FUNNY!! TFS!