Savin Ass.

I have typed this post a few times...when I was thinking about it originally and at the time it was happening it was HYSTERICAL to me. Now though, a week later, I can't seem to make it as funny in type than it was while happening.

Let me give you the basics.

Dog. Ass Chewed.

(You're probably thinking, FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, she's talking about the dog AGAIN? Yes, um, yes I am.)

STBE biggest AssHat of this century.

(I know, more bitch with that wine? Don't mind if I do.)

I have a heart, I felt bad for the damn dog so I took him to the vet.

(sucker)

Vet was closed, had to go to vet HOSPITAL.

($$$)




Enter nurse, not my biggest fan. Bertha McMustache was not amused by my sweet and cute lack of knowledge for my OWN dog.

(eye roll)

I mean, really? I have NO CLUE what the brand of dog food he eats. It a huge ass bag, 40 lbs to be exact. Yellow, the bag is yellow and it is dog food.

(at least he's fed)

Enter sweet nurse and a thermometer.

(ooohhhh ahhhhh)

Except, wait, where is she sticking that?

Picture me, straddling the dog's head to hold him still, not sure if he is going to bite my ass off or not, two kids stunned as Sweet Nurse jabs inserts thermometer in Bo's butt hole.

(great! good times)

Bubba starts the 100 (million) question game.

(exit sweet nurse)

Buggy, spots rectal thermometer on the counter. "Mom, did she wash that off?"

(me-IDK, sniff it and find out)

(I'm kidding, I didn't tell her that *fixes halo*)

Dr comes in, drops a bomb of about $400 to knock Bo out and stitch him...OR...take my chances on a longer healing process and do nothing.

(easy choice...do NOTHING)

((the price of NOTHING? $233.00. F*ck))

Enter again Nurse Bertha McMustache who's ate one too many Big Macs.

(that's not nice)

She's already not impressed by my comedic behavior, she is growling out the specifics of the medication, when to give it, when to take my own, how to care for the dog, etc.

The dog is pulling on the leash to leave, kids are still sniffing the thermometer and I can not concentrate 'cause her mustache is so thick. She had a five o'clock shadow except it's now eight o'clock if ya know what I mean.

(I wish I had a pencil thin mustache kept running through my head)

((I really wish I had a Pina Colada))

Alls well that ends well, except the dog's "end" (as in rear end) is still pretty grotesque. He seems to be healing just fine though, the kids got an education they may not have been ready to get, and Bertha's mustache didn't reach out and bitch slap me.

*sigh*