The Crazy Baby Dog Lady

I am a horrible blog owner. My blog feels lonely and neglected. I think it has even tried to find a new owner behind my back. I can’t be sure, but I saw some scandalous signs around the internet that seems to point to my blog whoring itself out just to get attention. So much has happened in the last nearly two months. I will give you a quick rundown of the holy terror that life has rained down on me, before regaling you with a funny and odd story that only my life could produce.

Since my last post, all Hell has broken loose. It’s like Supernatural up in here, and I find myself without a Sam or a Dean. The day after my last post the contractors started on our house. Walls came out, all of our ceilings came out, things we didn’t think would get broken did, and it was general chaos. We have a very small house and pets, so we were living in a construction zone and it wasn’t fairing well. Add in my chronic bronchitis with insulation and dust flying everywhere and you have the perfect crap storm. The contractors just recently left, so I’m thankful for that. We basically have an entirely new house that has no mold and I’m able to breathe much better. I’m looking on the bright side for this one.

The same day our construction workers started, our dog Leo suddenly fell very ill. He’s the dog I’ve talked about in previous posts that had to have surgery to remove cancer in his shoulder last July. The day he fell ill, he just sat down, started to swell up, and couldn’t stand back up. It all happened so fast, and our contractors, who are wonderful guys and we actually miss talking to, carried him to the car for us. We lost him that day. He had rapidly began internally bleeding out of nowhere that morning, and though I noticed it immediately and had the training as a vet tech to know something was wrong and get him to the vet right away, there was nothing that could be done. We miss him terribly.

During all of this, I ended up getting violently ill again and having to pull out of a prior commitment, and then a few afterwards. I couldn’t leave the house and had no peace, because the contractors were here. After an absurd amount of trips to the hospital, urgent care and doctors offices, we found I had a bad case of H Pylori and my stomach wall was twisted. I had to get a shot in my stomach and go on over 3000 milligrams of antibiotics a day, along with other medication. That high amount of antibiotics crashed my autoimmune system after ten days and sent me into seizures. Did I mention I blacked out and fell during all of this and had to rotate between wearing a rocker boot and air cast while trying to manuever the construction? My ankle is healed, and I’m feeling better now. I’m just tired because my autoimmune system is still trying to recover.

As if it couldn’t get any more hectic, our one dog Helena began to fall into a deep depression and even become mean. She wasn’t herself since Leo died. Greta, who is a loner in the dog world and a mommy’s girl in the human world, couldn’t care less either way, but she also wouldn’t play with Helena. Greta’s idea of playing is passing Helena in the back yard to come inside and get a treat. Helena’s depression got so bad that we thought we were going to lose her. We came to the conclusion that we had to get her a new friend that would play with her. I found a friend online that I was in love with and wanted Helena and Greta to meet. Our dream dog turned into a nightmare due to an issue with the shelter’s outside source that checks vet references. The source kept insisting that our vet had told her we hadn’t been there since 2012 and our dogs had all these diseases, despite us having basically moved right in during the last year with Leo and his cancer. When I called the vet’s office, who were aware this woman would be calling, they told us she had never called. Long story short, the entire thing turned into a debacle, and by the time it finally got straightened out (7 hours later.) we were so uncomfortable adopting from them that we decided to look elsewhere. To this day the third party will not admit she did not actually call our vet, because when she actually did, we got, in her words, a “glowing recommendation.”

Helena picked a new friend at a shelter down the road from us and we couldn’t be more in love with him. His name is Monkey – a name he’s had his whole life and I’m delighted with. He is six years old and was surrendered by his owner. He loves long hugs and being a really good boy. He moved right in without nary andaccident or any arguments from any of our pets. He was comfortable his first day here and it’s as if he’s always lived here. We couldn’t be happier with our new best friend and feel like he was meant for us. As for Helena, she’s pulled out of her depression and is back to her old self, so we couldn’t be more thrilled. I will be doing a blog about his cute little face hopefully soon, though my schedule is crazy busy.

All of that is why I haven’t had a chance to blog, and isn’t even half the story, but it does bring me to tonight’s story. For those of you who have been reading this blog for awhile, nothing about this odd story will shock you. You know my life thinks it’s hysterical.

Last week my friend was in from out of town. Every time we go out, we have ourselves some adventures. Not one adventure. Not two. Some adventures – plural and more than two. I guess I wasn’t fully prepared for the adventure I was about to have, because I’m still not sure if I would have swiftly aborted said adventure had I known about it prior, or if I like how it turned out.

If you know anything about me, you know about my misadventures with the Mars born kind. Everyone thinks I’m way younger than I am, which always ends with me getting hit on by guys under 20. They’re always adorable in that ‘I want to take you to the zoo and feed you a lollipop’ kind of way. I’m twenty-eight, so they’re also only cute in that ‘feels like jailbait’ kind of way. I can’t go there. I was not surprised when my friend and I encountered a perfectly nice fellow at The Dollar Store, who was fun and datable but probably under twenty. This is par for the course for me. Nothing to see here, folks. That wasn’t the problem with this adventure.

The problem was that I made an offhand comment about how cute I thought a waiter was in the restaurant where we were eating. He wasn’t even our waiter. I had simply noticed him cruising on by and thought he looked pretty okey dokey. What happened after that still confuses me, because it happened so quickly and I don’t have all the details on how this transpired during the parts I was absent for.

The next time our waitress passed our table, my friend began asking her about the waiter. Despite my protests, the waitress insisted I was awesome, the waiter was awesome, and we should totally date, so she scurried off and got the dirt on him. You guys, our waitress took my friend’s questioning and made the decision she was setting us up somehow. Only, I didn’t exactly catch on, because I thought she was just being polite. What was she supposed to do? Not be polite? Not go ask about him? Some people are jerks and would have not left her a tip because she simply said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t get involved in his personal life.” Not us. We would have tipped her anyway.

She came back, physically sat down at the table with us, and gave us all the info. I couldn’t have been more shades of red if I were a tomato covered in red paint. Then she left and I thought that was the end of it, because really, what else could she do? Not two minutes later, she came back with a piece of paper, handed it to me and says, “He apologizes for his handwriting. He said it’s not a reflection on his maturity.” I tried to ask her how she got his number, but stumbled over my words in all the confusion. She seemed to understand and told me she pointed me out to him and he voluntarily forked it over. Because nothing says awkward like pointing to someone and thinking, “I might want that one! Maybe. If they don’t smell.” Before I could process this, another waitress came out and told me I had to text him. I had to. Because he was awesome and I was awesome and aww. I still have no idea what clear delineation of events occurred between me mentioning he was cute, to me ending up with his number. I was involved in none of this. He was involved in more of it than I was and I’m sure this was less comfortable for him than it was for me. All I said was, “Please don’t. I just said he was cute.” The rest just happened without me.

We never spoke, me and this guy. Never said a word. He would look over and smile at me. I would turn more shades of red than were possible for a human, but completely so for a chameleon. My friends talked me into texting him, because I don’t date or get out much and I’m really a lot of fun, I just tend to have said fun by myself, but I have a lot of it. In other words, I didn’t see the problem. I decided to adopt my friend Sarah’s outlook on life. He was cute, so I texted. I didn’t hear back. Somehow this didn’t surprise me, because I have the kind of life where someone would voluntarily give me their number and then not text me back. This is just another Wednesday of Weird Shit for me. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed, because though cute, I didn’t know this guy from Adam and it took all the guts I had in me to send that text. Then my friends all unanimously convinced me to try him again, because technology can sometimes be jerk. Turns out, the second time was the charm because, yes, technology – it’s a jerk.

To make a situation even more amusingly awkward, he seems like a super nice and mature guy……who, over the weekend, decided to see if he could work things out with his ex-girlfriend. This goes right along with things my life does to me, so I was completely unaffected by this. To be honest, I was kind of relieved, because we don’t know each other at all. It’s easy to see someone across a room and think they’re cute. That doesn’t mean they’re someone you’d want to date. He was completely up front with me abut the situation, as well as apologetic when he had no reason to be. We’re going to hang out as friends, which is kind of cool. How many times can you not even talk to someone and still get their number, and then try to become friends? Also, maybe he can explain to me what the heck went on that I missed, because there’s way more to this story than I was told, and I’m sure he’s still confused, too. He also assures me that the waitresses involved actually want to friend me in real life, so that’s awkward. Cool, but awkward. It’s just another weird situation for the books. As if my life.

In other news, I will probably be sixty years old with ninety-three baby dolls and four dogs, which would kind of make me the Crazy Baby Dog Lady, right?

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