Yesterday I wanted to do some running around in town. The only problem...what do I do with Ernie? If you know him, you know that about once every 2 weeks, he has a "bad day". His tummy rumbles all day, he's lethargic and usually has horrible bouts of diarrhea or pukes, or worse yet...both. Well, yesterday was one of those days. I didn't want to leave him home for fear he would have an accident, so I decided to take him with me. Big Mistake.
Remember how cute he was here?
Not so much yesterday. I decided to put him in his crate. Second Mistake. I hadn't even backed out of the drive when the barking started. I angled my rear-view so I could see what the heck he was doing. He would bark, pause, glare at me, tilt his head, adorably I might add, left, then right, then bark again. Every time I'd tell him to be quiet, and I was not that polite, he'd bark at me. Cheeky little thing. During the few moments that he wasn't barking he would be pawing at his cage or digging up his bed. Eventually when I hit a red light, I set him free. He was more of a distraction barking than running around the back of the car...at least so I thought.
The minute I opened the crate door, he charged the window, pawing for me to open it so he could stick his nose, or lack thereof, into the wind. As soon as I'd open one, he'd run to the other side. It wouldn't be so bad except for that horrible vibration sound that occurs when you open one window in a car. You know that noise that drives your ears crazy and could force the strongest mind to want to pull their own hair out? What is it with cars in the past decade that causes this noise? E & I both recall our childhood days, driving in the backseat of a car, with windows open (occasionally because an adult was smoking in the car) and it wasn't a torture pit? That noise could be used as a cruel and unusual method of torture. Put a detainee in a car and drive them around at high speeds with one window open. They'd crack before you know it. The only way to get rid of the vibration is to open several windows in the vehicle and it's too cold for that yet.
So then the little monster decides to do "rub ups" all over the back of the car. You know, when the nose goes down to the ground and the bum stays up in the air, all the time moaning and groaning with pleasure...and in Ernie's case, quickly followed by an extremely wet sneeze which usually hits the window.
Every time I hit a light, he'd run back to the window and start pawing at it. Stopping the car can mean one of three things for him. He can check out the people in the vehicles next to us, he's being left in the car while we go do something or we are at a drive thru and he might get a treat from the server if he puts on a show. Believe me, there were no treats on this day.
At the first stop, I left him out of his crate. By the time I came back out, he was sitting on top of the console in the front seat. Second stop, I couldn't see him as I came out because he had fallen into the boot of the seat and is too uncoordinated to jump the 8 inches back up. I place him back on the seat and start to drive. He loses his balance and falls back into the boot. Pick him up. Back onto the seat. Drive on. As we continue our day, so does his grumbly tummy. It is becoming increasingly louder and more frequent. Never a good sign and heightens my stress level.
Next stop, I decide to put him in his crate and leave him there for the next few stops including the grocery store which is a lengthy stop. As I'm walking up and down the aisles...okay, let's face it. I'm not walking. I'm practically running because I'm freaking out that Ernie is going to have a case of Explosive Diarrhea in my car. I find myself pushing my fingers into my chest and arm as I'm stopped in the dairy aisle trying to massage away the anxiety I seem to be carrying there. The dog is causing me to have a panic attack in Aisle 3, amongst the cottage cheese and vanilla flavoured Activia yogurt.
Now it might be my current state of mind but while checking out at the counter, I note that I have 6 of my own reusable grocery bags and the clerk seems determined to load every single item into one bag. Just as I think she's done, she loads another heavy item on top of it. Milk, cream, sweet potatoes, onion, celery, bananas, yogurt, and when she loads the cantaloupe on top of that, I protest! "Am I going to be able to lift that bag", I ask? She looks at me with I'm not sure what in her eyes. Distaste? Disgust? Disbelief? She struggles herself, lifting the bag to display that she is capable of lifting therefore I should be too. But she is all of 20 and, well, sadly....I am not. I am stricken with age and a bad back. I take the bag from her and use the momentum from its weight to swing it into the grocery cart. Funnily enough, the point was driven home because she used the next three bags to pack my last 9 items.
Once I'm back to the vehicle and have unloaded my groceries, I take a minute in the front seat to regain my composure. I tell myself, Kim...you only have one more stop. Girl. You can do this. Ten deep breaths later, I pull out of the parking lot and head for the drug store to pick up Ernie's prescription. If it hadn't been the only actual stop I was required to make that day as he doesn't have enough meds to make it through the long weekend, I would have just gone home. Of course as I reach the store, I note the sign that states it IS open tomorrow. Oh well, I'm here now. Git 'er done! Ernie's tummy is roaring now and I'm sensing a little more urgency in his clawing at the gate. When I get back out, I free him from his confinement and he comes to the front and sits on my lap staring out my window.
First red light, he stands up and I undo my window. He promptly starts barking at the dog in the vehicle next to mine and it just happens to be one of my neighbours. We exchange smiles and laughs and a bit of the weight is lifted off of my chest. I cross the bridge. Nearly home. And then it dawns on me. I need to stop for the mail. I hit the mailbox. As I put the car in park, Ernie does his darndest to anchor in on my lap. It's as if he's saying, "You aren't going anywhere without me." Apparently he thinks his 6 pounds is going to hold down my.....yeah, well, you get the picture. So as not to upset him. I carry him with me to the mailbox. Get the mail. Get back in the car. Place him on my lap and what does he do? The damn dog falls asleep....for the last 1 kilometre ride home. Seriously? What has become of my life?
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