A Perfect Storm

What a day! What a night! My poor puppy, New Stella, was spayed and had surgery to correct her cherry eye yesterday. Ruanita dropped her off in the morning and I was told to pick her up at about 5:00pm. As 5:00 approached, the kids and I piled in the car to drive to Brooklyn Park in rush hour traffic on a Friday to pick up Stella. When we finally—eventually—arrived, we found her groggy, doped up, and wearing the cone of shame. We were informed that she would have to wear the cone for two weeks until her eye completely healed. I was also informed that she had a yeast infection between her saggy boobies and was given on ointment to apply daily. We were sent home with puppy pain pills, a dog that could barely walk, and instructions to treat her boobs. I can't say that I have ever massaged dog boobs before, so this is a new one for me.

On the way home in rush hour traffic, I attended to the poor dog as best I could. Wrapped her a blanket since she appeared cold after the anesthesia and rubbed her head to calm her. Lucas began complaining that his tummy was hurting. Inititally, I ignored him. Then he began gagging. Then he threw up all over the back seat of my car as I watched helplessly in the rearview mirror, hoping that the other two kids sitting next to him yelling exclamations of “gross!” and “oh no!” would not begin gagging, as well. I tossed him the blanket that had been covering the dog and prayed that he would be a one-puke-wonder.

When we got home, I quickly ushered everyone in the house. Poor Stella was a zombie and couldn't figure out how to get out of the car, so I carried my forty-five pound furry darling in the house. I changed Lucas' clothes, grabbed the official family puke bowl just in case, and settled him down on the couch. I picked Stella up and positioned her as comfortably as possible on the couch, as well. I then went outside to scrub chunky mandarin orange peppered puke from the back of my car. My car now wreaks of “Crisp Linen” Lysol. It was a perfect storm of dog and kid issues all rolled into one exciting afternoon.

I wasn't sure what to do with Stella at bedtime. She normally sleeps in my bed. However, with a gigantic plastic cone on her head, there wasn't exactly room. We tried getting her to sleep in the chair in our bedroom after Ruanita got home from work, but she kept trying to jump in our bed. She wasn't supposed to be jumping around after surgery, so Ruanita eventually moved to the chair and let Stella have the bed. So I slept in bed with the dog and the enormous cone of shame. Several times throughout the night I got hit in the head with the cone. Once I woke up with my head actually laying in the cone. Another time, I woke up to find Stella on the floor removing the cone. She somehow managed to wiggle her way out of it. I put the cone back on and lifted her into my bed once again.

This morning, I woke up to excruciating back spasms. In my attempts to sleep around the cone and not disturb the poor, pitiful dog, I managed to twist myself into a pretzel. I could barely lift my legs to put my jeans on this morning. Ruanita tried rubbing my back for me, to no avail.

So here I sit at work. On a Saturday. The air conditioner is not working, despite working for a heating and cooling company. I am curled up in a fetal position trying to stretch the muscles in my back enough to be functional. I am wearing a baseball cap because my hair is dirty. But it's Saturday, so they are lucky I put on a bra. I paid $4 for a latte this morning that it is too damn hot to drink now. And I have sweat dripping off of me sitting perfectly still.

The weekend can only go up from here, right?