Rough Day 13

Ever have one of those days when you really wish Jesus would quit fooling around and just come back already? You know what I mean; we all have days that we know going in are going to be bad, but then they turn out to be so much worse than we expected. This has been one of those days for me.

It started almost immediately: the wonderful but occasionally absent-minded and mildly careless Jess forgot to set her alarm and overslept, so I had to get up, take care of the dogs, fix her coffee and stuff. I really didn’t mind that. It happens fairly regularly, so it’s a minor hiccup–I figure, at least I get to go back to bed, she has to go to work. Then, later, when I do get up, my sister-in-law Andie is up fooling around in the kitchen.

I love Andie and look forward to her visits. However, we were expecting her today, and I figured I’d have time to clean up the house before she got here. She got here yesterday instead.

Now, neither Jess nor I are what you’d call neat freaks. We’re basically feral and, since the amazing and diligent Jess went back to work I’ve been responsible for housekeeping. Needless to say, Andie’s version of clean and mine are pretty different. She likes things to be neat, organized, and genuinely clean, while I feel pretty strongly that as long as nobody sticks to anything they lean on and I know what’s in the piles of stuff, well that’s good enough.

So the first thing I say to Andie as I’m taking the dogs out is that I’m going to take care of the dishes in a little bit. By the time I come back in, she’s already doing the dishes, she’s put away the clean dishes, “put away” some of the piles, and reorganized the remaining piles. She’s standing there waiting for me to tell her where the stuff in the remaining piles belongs. I’m like “right there.” I like to think that Jess and I aren’t the only people on the planet who don’t actually have a “place for everything.” To be honest, I don’t even know what half of that stuff is, much less where to put it.

She wanted me to do something about the recyclables, and then seemed shocked when that “something” turned out to be tying the bags shut and lobbing them down the stairs to the basement (don’t worry, next time I go downstairs, I’ll kick them over to where they belong).

Anyway, I had bigger fish to fry: I’m supposed to get my first colonoscopy (and endoscopy too! Hope they use a different tube for that one, or at least do the endoscopy first.) tomorrow, and so I had to swill down half of a giant bottle of Turbo-Lax to start my day off (gotta make sure I’m squeaky clean inside!). I get to get up at 6 tomorrow morning to drink the other half–yay.

So already the day is not great. When that Turbo-Lax kicks in, it’s not fooling around. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be taking my colon to the hospital in a bucket tomorrow. It’s also kind of tough discovering that I am literally as full of shit as people have always told me (well, not any more, so there!).

Then, Molly, our golden retriever that was my mom’s dog, collapsed on the porch. She hasn’t been doing well for a while, and apparently today was the day. I called Jess and asked her to make an appointment for Molly at the vet, so she did that and then took off early to go with us. While I waited for Jess, I alternated between sitting next to Molly, petting and talking to her, and running to the bathroom.

We got her to the vet, and it was as bad as we had feared: we had to make the call that nobody ever wants to make. They gave us a little more time with her and we both sat on the floor with her petting her and telling her she was a good girl while we both bawled like babies. I told her to go kick Harry’s (another one of our former dogs, who was kind of a jerk) ass, and Jess laughed and then said Molly’d be too busy looking for mom. That really set off the waterworks. I never could look at Molly without thinking of Mom. Molly was the last thing that Mom really recognized. Mom couldn’t remember her name, but she’d cup Molly’s head in her hands, lean forward and say “You’re my dog. Yes you are, you’re my dog.” Then she’d kiss the top of Molly’s head.

Anyway, we’re bawling our eyes out, and the girl came in and gave Molly THE SHOT. She was gone in just a few seconds. She was such a good girl. One of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever known.

Then we come home, and Andie’s cooking chili. The air is thick with the smell of frying hamburger, venison, and bacon. BACON! Who the hell puts BACON in chili? And what kind of monster does it on a day when one of the world’s great bacon lovers and chili lovers is on a clear liquid diet? The sister-in-law kind of monster, that’s what kind.

So my eyes hurt from crying, my ass hurts from . . . well you can imagine, although I recommend you don’t try too hard . . . and I’ve got to take even more laxatives, while smelling all that good food. Food that I CAN’T HAVE!!!!!

I go outside to have a smoke, and there’s a good breeze blowing. I turn my back to the wind, and all of a sudden, there’s a sound . . . a weird sound . . . a sound like somebody blowing across the top of a giant, empty, coke bottle. Halfway through the cigarette, I had to rush back inside, and the sound stopped. I’m pretty sure that, after today, the doctor won’t have to worry about using the micro-camera equipment–he’ll be able to just grab a camcorder and shove his arm up there. I think there’ll be plenty of room.

Needless to say, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Jesus’ll come back tonight.

13 thoughts on “Rough Day

  1. Reply livingstonesacademy Oct 26,2017 11:43 pm

    I am so sorry for your hard day, and especially for your loss. I love the humor you managed to infuse anyway. God bless.

    • Reply Oct 27,2017 11:28 pm

      Thanks. Glad you got a laugh out of the funny bits. They’re what get us all through.

  2. Reply Dot Thornburg Oct 27,2017 1:31 am

    Thanks for the laugh but terribly sorry about dear Molly. I cry with you. Know that pain. Love you both.

  3. Reply Sharon Roberts Oct 27,2017 12:57 pm

    I always knew you were full of poop. Thanks for taking such good care of Molly. I bet mom is feeding her right now.

  4. Reply beth lutz Oct 27,2017 6:01 pm

    Molly…she was so good for your mom…and the stories of her should be in a book, though the persnickity-healthy-pet people of the universe would not be happy as so many of those stories were around her size and unwillingness to care about it. Your mom talking of taking her on a walk and realizing that she’d decided to lay down midway and not come with her always slayed me. But, I thought she was already gone, so this made me happy and so sad. Happy that you’ve had her around to love on since your mom’s been gone, and sad that you had to let her go. My vote’s still out on having the courage to stay with them as they go. I’ve done both, and “staying” stays with me in such a visceral way for so many nights, nightmares and years that follow, that I just can’t do it anymore. Clearly, you both are much more sacrificial and loving people than I am. Honestly, I’m not sure there’s a day goes by that I don’t hope He doesn’t come back or I don’t go home sooner than later. Colonoscopy or not. Hopefully, there was chili left when you got home the next day. Love ya, Lloyd.

    • Reply Oct 27,2017 11:24 pm

      Yeah, she was a great dog. It’s not easy staying with them, but for us, it’s more something that we feel we owe to them than something that we want to do. We may get a little too attached. Also, we’re having chili tonight, and stopped at 5 Guys for lunch. Today’s working out much better.

  5. Reply Judy Jennings Oct 28,2017 12:28 am

    Brave brave man. I wouldn’t even DREAM of leaving the house after swallowing that giant container of nastiness. Ug. I’m so sorry about Molly.

  6. Reply Susan Oct 28,2017 2:49 am

    After two failed attempts at reading this because well I’m too emotional, I finally had a belly laugh through the tears. My mother in law passed away unexpectedly in August, her dear sweet Puggle, Molly lives with us now. Your story was bittersweet and hilarious all mixed up into an Lloyd Mullins original.

  7. Reply Pamela Oct 28,2017 6:41 pm

    Love this! Sorry about the doggie 😔

  8. Reply Dodie Oct 30,2017 12:13 am

    So sorry about Molly. She was such a great dog. I am glad you were able to be with her to the end. I always try to be there and hold my dogs until the end. They give me so much love and happiness that I always try to give to them until the end. I want them to know they are not alone. Hugs to you and Jess.

  9. Reply Ellen Oct 31,2017 6:07 pm

    Thanks so much for sharing and for making me laugh and cry. This post didn’t make my head hurt but my heart sure felt what you guys are feeling. I know Molly and your mom are on the other side enjoying each other’s company along with Rich and his dogs. People who love dogs are immediately my friends. I love what Rich wrote on the back of one of his cd’s: “I owe about 10 years of thank-you’s to a million people. Among those people are: Bear my dog.” I LOVE THAT he listed his dog first and ranked him as a person. They really are so special and life without them is less joyful. I grew up with dogs and had a dog for 11 years that I got from the Humane Society and she gave me 11 years of joy. She passed away in 2000. Now I take care of animals where I live and have a yellow lab as a rental dog.

    Peace to you as you learn to live without Molly. Thanks for the heads up on the colonoscopy. Maybe Jesus will come back before I have to have mine done, that is why I keep putting it off, ha, ha.

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