Yesterday I made Dr. Pepper pulled pork (Okay, it was Mr. Pibb but that’s all that was in the vending machine).
I had a super busy day at work and my first grad school test that night so a big crockpot full or sweet and spicy BBQ pulled pork was the perfect solution for dinner. So when Mark and I finally dragged ourselves home at 7pm we gobbled it up (along with oven fries and mac n’ cheese). It was amazing.
The smell that wafted into our bedroom at 2am was amazing as well. Amazing and WAY too strong. In my groggy state it took a minute or two to realize holy shit we didn’t turn the crock pot off!
Yup, both of us, too exhausted from the day, forgot about the kitchen entirely and the meat continued to bubble away in the crockpot (on low, thank God).
So, at 2am I dragged myself out of bed and began shoveling the not burnt bits into tupperware, while Callie, asleep in her kennel whined that I was up and not giving her attention, or not sharing the BBQ, I was too tired to care.
When I use the same beauty products the super models use
why do I not look like Karlie Kloss right away? Or in two weeks? or any amount of time for that matter?
I have a minimalist approach to make-up and I like to think that if I find the right balance of beauty products I’ll never have to wear make-up again, just lip gloss and look like fucking Heidi Klum when I walk out the door.
If you’re walking upstairs in a sweater dress that’s more tunic than dress, semi-opaque tights, and nothing else do you want me to tell you you have a scandalous situation going on or are you aware of the wardrobe choice and now you’re just advertising?
Hi lady! It's your new Tumblr Buddy!! I hope to get something out to you within the week but for now I'll be scouring the pages of your tumblr! I see we love some of the same things ;) Looking forward to the next year!! :)
You might want to try a harness instead of a collar. It’s harder to get out of, better on their neck, and dogs seem to respond better with a harness than a collar. I have a dog that freaks and wiggles out of her collar too.
This sounds like the perfect solution - at least for morning runs or outings where we might run into a lot of people.
I took Callie out today on her normal morning run. I decided to swing through the plaza, early in the morning there aren’t a lot of people and I had plenty of treats to reward Callie when she didn’t react fearfully to strangers (this is something we’ve been doing since we got her).
Everything was fine until we went by a coffee shop. There was a man sitting and drinking coffee in the window. Callie saw him and freaked, typically I can get her to ignore people (as long as there aren’t too many of them) and I’ll reward her for ignoring them. Today she lost her mind at the site of the man, she immediately started backing up in fear and trying to shake loose of the leash. Unfortunately for me she was backing up into the middle of the street. I was attempting to pull her toward me but I saw the collar start to pop over one ear. We’ve now been playing tug of war for a good minute, there hasn’t been much traffic but I can see out of the corner of my eye that the closest light has just turned green - Oh God don’t let my dog get hit by a car today. Fearful that the collar would pop off her (and then she’d be a goner, running fearfully through heavy traffic and people) I jumped into the street to try to pick her up. That freaked her out more and it took me a good minute to wrap my arms around her and lift her up - right as a car had to hit its breaks 10 ft in front of us.
I jumped back to the sidewalk and carried her a block until we were relatively secluded. The rest of the walk/run went off without a hitch except I was fuming from the incident. We were both very close to getting hit by a car, way too close. I can’t take it out on her because she was terrified because somewhere in her dark past she was seriously mistreated and all strangers are scary, evil people who want to hurt her, at least in her eyes.
So I’m venting here and I’ll probably take a rage walk by myself. Near death experiences are not my favorite way to start the day.
When I was 9 years old my spirit for helping others was squashed.
When I was in elementary school I lived close enough to walk to school. I could either take an ally way or a residential street home. Since the ally was 50 ft closer than the residential street I typically took the ally.
So one day my sister and I are walking home from school, I was in 4th grade and she was in 3rd… and we’re walking home in the back ally on a bright sunny day and this cat starts following us. We’d never seen this cat in the neighborhood so we ignored it but this cat kept mewing and purring and trying to rub itself on our legs. It did this until we got home and followed us to the house.
Well, my sister and I checked the collar, there was no local information about where this cat belonged and he sat himself out on our back porch. So I decided to help this kitty get home and called the only number on the collar, which happened to be the humane society. I told them the ID number on the collar, my address, and that the cat had followed us home and was seemingly, lost. They sent someone out right away to collect the cat.
I was immediately filled with pride and I was certain that kitty cat would be taken care of - a similar situation had occurred about 2 years prior with a dog and my parents had taught me that I couldn’t keep it and calling the number on the tag was the right thing to do - the dog owner had been so grateful they offered me $50 for keeping their dog safe and calling them (at 7 years old that was like a billion dollars). So, with this cat, I was feeling pretty good that I had done a good deed and saved a cat from possibly being lost for days or run over by a car. I loved that I helped someone.
Later that night I received a phone call. It was the owner of the cat (she had gotten my information from the humane society). At 9 years old I was bursting with pride and ready to hear a thank you of some sort. Instead, this woman berated me on the phone, saying I had taken her cat, and she had to drive across town to get it (it turned out the cat lived about 4 streets over). She told me never to touch or mess with her cat again or she’d make a complaint to the cops. I cried, said I was sorry and hung up the phone.
And that was the day my spirit for helping others was squashed.
No exaggeration, they are knocking me flat on my ass. I can’t think because my brain is floating in snot, my eyes are so irritated I want to scoop them out with a spoon, and I’m so tired I don’t even want to get up to eat.
So, okay, whatever. I’ve got allergies and I can deal with them by OD’ing on Benadryll and Zyrtec but there is literally no way to make me look human at this point.
I’ve been pouring Visine in my eyes every hour to keep them from returning to bloodshot (the state they love to be in come allergy season) and last night I was trying to find tricks to look ‘awake’. I put my eye cream in the fridge (because that’s what the fashion mags told me to do) and I dug out every ‘illuminating’ makeup product I own. I’ve tried every trick I could find in the fashion mags and honestly it didn’t help. I think you have to be partially alive or have the will to live (which on the second week of horrible allergies I no longer have) to pull these tricks off. The most I’ve succeeded at today is looking like a zombie covered in glitter. Or maybe a zombie version of Ke$ha, which ever.
Dropped Callie off at the vet this morning. Poor girl was too sore to handle the stairs and she cried every time I tried to carry her so I ended up lugging her in her kennel down the apartment steps and into the car. Mark left early for school so I had to use my charm to convince a neighbor to help me lift the kennel in the back of my car - I think I seriously injured my back during the whole ordeal.
I’m taking a personal day at work. After my mental breakdown last night (see: uncontrollable sobbing) and my terrible seasonal allergies kicking in something terrible this week I am a hot mess. Not to mention I’m now feeling my own bumps and bruises from the dog attack last night.
So I’m using today to nurse Callie when I get her back today, bring order back in my life, catch up with some school, and organize my workload.
Today was the day I was scheduled to take Callie back to the shelter (Wayside Waifs in Kansas City) for one last goodbye to her previous foster parents and to return the borrowed kennel to them.
Callie recognized them right away and she was dancing she was so thrilled to see them again. It was all going great, despite my lateness (I ran out of gas and had to make a quick stop at the gas station).
About 2 minutes into our reunion a shelter volunteer was walking by with two mastiff mixes. They saw us and little Callie and started pulling their poor walker over to our happy reunion.
The poor dog walker, a man in his mid to late 50s, had his heels dug in the ground and was still being drug like a rag doll. Callie looked fearful so I stood up and started walking her away. Suddenly I heard a loud commotion and almost instantly I was swept off my feet onto my back by a leash wrapping around the back of my legs. The dog walker was on the ground, on his stomach, being dragged and the two mastiffs were on Callie, attacking her.
It happened in a flash and I barely remember letting go of Callie’s leash and grabbing one of her attackers by the neck. Her previous foster parents were also in the mix, pulling the big dogs off of her. The dog I wrestled with probably had a couple pounds on me and I was drug along for a bit, scraping off the tops of my feet on the pavement (I had on flats).
Callie finally broke away and the attacking dogs were under a semblance of control with Callie’s previous foster dad and the walker. I dropped everything and ran after Callie. She didn’t get far, she was cowering behind a car, shaking, whimpering, and limping on her front paw. I picked her up and noticed blood on her fur.
A close inspection revealed 2 bite marks that pierced the skin. One was small, smaller than a pea, the other, a gaping wound the size of a quarter. I quickly got her to the shelter vet and Callie’s foster parents and I struggled to get the story out fast enough.
A quick examination revealed she’ll need to be sedated and stitched up. Because I fed her before had they won’t be able to do the stitches until tomorrow, so they cleaned the wound and bandaged her up. They supplied me with antibiotics and painkillers, we’ll go back first thing tomorrow morning and get her patched. I’m hoping the limp is nothing serious, please say a prayer that it’s nothing.
I remained calm and in control the whole time…that was until I got into my car with Callie and I burst into tears.
I can’t describe the rage, worry, and complete terror going on inside me right now. Even as I type I am still so angry, not at the poor dog walker, or at anybody really.
Those dogs should never have been walked together, their volunteer walker got scraped up pretty good and I could see he was so remorseful and he noted that the dogs’ info said they were OK to walk together.
I’m still trying to process the whole situation. I called Mark, my mother, and my sisters. Mark was furious at the shelter, my mom suggested I report the incident to the police, and my sister suggested I insist the shelter cover all the medical costs (there has been no mention of fees yet and I wasn’t charged anything for the antibiotics or pain meds).
I’m at a loss and swimming in guilt that I didn’t and couldn’t do more to protect my dog.
Currently sitting next to Callie in my bedroom, watching her sleep away today’s nightmare.
Took Callie to the vet today as the limp was still going on. Vet felt around, didn’t find any tears, and thinks she sprained her knee. So we got some anti-inflammatory meds and an order of bed rest for at least a week. Womp womp.