The World’s Toughest Dachshund and the Light of My Life! February 24, 2010
Posted by katie @ k.c.i.d. in Uncategorized.3 comments
FUCK YOU
So I gotta ask whoever reads this silly little blog for a favor… Some of you may have read a post from a few weeks ago entitled “Christmas Day – Another Spent in the Animal ER”. If you did read it, you know #1) how amazingly cute my little dachshund Baron is, #2 that despite my overprotective efforts, he has had a pretty crappy run of luck in his six years of life, and #3) I literally love this dog more than I could love a human baby. He is my BOY and I absolutely adore him and would do anything to make his little dachshund life better. So naturally when the vet said that he needed a teeth cleaning during his yearly exam last week, I immediately set up the appointment.
Today was the day. I was so so so nervous because not only was the little boy getting his teeth cleaned, but he also had to have 4 lumps removed – two lipomas from his chest and one skin tag from his heel (all no biggie) and then one mass between the first two toes on his right front foot (this one I knew was going to be a little more involved).
Long story short, I got the boy all settled in and the doctor and technician began the procedure. It wasn’t but a few minutes later when the doctor called me back to the operation table with this AWFUL look on her face. She then asked me how old Baron is and I told her he was six. And she looked back down at his mouth and said that she had something she needed to show me. It was a lump on the underside of the back of his tongue and the doctor said, “it’s some kind of cancer” or “it might be cancer”… blah blah blah – all I know is whatever the hell she said ended with the big C-word. And I freakin’ LOST it. I mean hysterics. The big C is not a word we just casually toss around and I couldn’t really handle it. And I still can’t.
By the sheer grace of God I managed to suck it up and dry my tears up enough to do two appointments and I got back to the surgery table just as the doctor was finishing up the last lumpectomy. As soon as Baron started coming out from under the anesthesia he started crying. Just crying out in pain. I have never heard him cry like that – out of any of the horrible injuries that he’s had, he’s never cried. It just shattered my heart to hear him in such pain… I waited until he woke up a little bit more and then I made us a pallet in the back of the hospital and layed on the floor with him. And I’ll just be damned if my tiny little boy, still wobbly from the anesthesia, with a million Frankenstein stitches in his chest, stitches on his heel, two holes in his mouth, and a front right foot that is completely bandaged, didn’t try to army crawl his way under the cages to scarf up a few wayward pieces of dog food. TELL ME my pup is not a fighter?! I don’t freakin’ think so. He’s the toughest little man I’ve ever seen and I am so proud of him!
I finally got him home and he seems to be resting comfortably now. I had him set up in the corner of the sofa, but he crawled over to me as soon as I sat down and has been snuggled up in my lap ever since. And as long as he is comfortable, I don’t plan on moving. I can no longer feel either one of my feet, and I really have to go to the bathroom, but I refuse to move and disturb him and these sofa cushions ARE reversible…
Anyway, the lovely specimens pictured above were sent out for histopathology tonight and the results will take a few days. Waiting is NOT my favorite, especially when it comes to something this serious – and ESPECIALLY when it comes to my Baron - but we’ll just have to hang in there and figure out the plan of attack as soon as the results roll in. So until then, if you all would be so kind – please say a prayer for the world’s toughest dachshund.
sweet boy had a shitty day
CORNHOLE! Disorderly Conduct at the Sports Authority February 17, 2010
Posted by katie @ k.c.i.d. in Uncategorized.3 comments
a cornhole game was all I wanted...
It was delicately brought to my attention that some who read my last post might have misconstrued it as racist or discrimanatory or something of the like. I reread it and felt so bad for a moment that I even considered taking the post down, but alas I decided against it. Why? Because the simple fact is that I am not racist. I know this, and everyone who knows me knows this. The only people that I have (or will ever) discriminate against are the STUPID ones, regardless of color, shape, size, nationality, religion, etc. All of that is of no consequence to me in any way, shape, form, or fashion. To each his/her own, and I am down with it. But if you’re stupid, I’m gonna make fun of you. That’s all there is to it. And I think that we can all agree that only a stupid person would list “my baby’s daddy went to jail” as a reason for seeking employment on their resume. So while I am not a racist in any form, I’d like to establish that I WILL make fun of morons like this any chance I get. All of that being said, I’m going to tell you about this week’s Stupid Person Award Winner. I was not even going to write about this – but it’s just too ridiculous not to share. WARNING: I will try to clean up the language the best that I can, but I really don’t want to loose the effect of the story and feel it’s best that I repeat the Stupid Person Award Winner’s words verbatim. So here we go…
I was told a few weeks ago by my neighbor that I just HAD to get a “Super Bowl Present” for my boyfriend. Apparently my neighbor invented this concept a few years ago and it has worked like a charm for he and his wife. His whole logic is that there is one non-holiday day a year that men wake up all excited like it’s Christmas morning, and that is Super Bowl. By the same token, there is one non- (real) holiday day a year that women wake up all excited, and that is Valentine’s Day. It works out well that these two days are usually relatively close together in February, because (pay attention ladies!) the nicer your Super Bowl gift to him is, the nicer his Valentine’s Day gift to you will be. It’s a genius idea really and my neighbor has told all of his friends (now including us) about it, and they all consequently get Super Bowl gifts. Well, we were having a party at our house for Super Bowl, so in all of my cleaning and grocery shopping and preparing for the party, the friggin’ Super Bowl present completely slipped my mind.
So there I am, with only 3 hours until everyone is at our house, and no Super Bowl present. Luckily I had an idea. I wanted to get a Cornhole game (“beanbag toss” for you lame-os) for our back yard, so I ran to the closest sporting goods store. And that store just happened to be in a less than desirable shopping plaza that (after this shopping experience) I will never be visiting again. So I go in and I am searching all around for the one game. I walked all over the whole store and couldn’t find it, and I was starting to get irritated. There was an employee who was wandering around the sales floor and even asked me if I needed any help and of course, my automatic reflex was to say, “no thanks I’m fine”, even though I know he could have immediately pointed me in the right direction. A few minutes later I found exactly what I was looking for and was standing there pondering if I really wanted to spend $60 for a Cornhole game (remembering of course that I would definitely be upping the ante for V-day) when I heard it.
”WHY DON’T YOU JUS’ BACK THE F*CK UP OFF ME DEN?!” – screamed at the top of her lungs. About two seconds later I could see the helpful little store associate, and in front of him was a “lady” in houseslippers, a stray curler still in her hair, carrying a giiiiiiiiiiiiant bag with an open top. No joke this bag was probably about two feet long by a foot tall. I quickly deduced that the associate had asked the “lady” if she needed any help one too many times and she was pissed. PISSED. I thought that it might end after the one outburst, but ohhhhhhhhhhhh no. That was only the beginning. It became obvious to me (and every other store patron within a 3 mile radius) that the employee must have thought she was shop lifting – which was probably a good assessment judging by the size of the Samsonite that she was toting around. She was walking riiiiiiiiiight down the very center aisle of the store towards the front, and then she turned around and unleashed on him. “YOU CRACKA ASS MUTHA F*CKA NEED TO STAY UP OUT MY BIZNESS! IF I’M GON PICK UP ANYTHING FROM THIS STO I’M GON’ BUY IT!” At this point everyone in the store (including several small children in her immediate vicinity) has stopped what they were doing and turned to watch this fiasco. The store associate says, “Ma’am you really need to lower your voice”, to which she replies, “YOU NEED TO GET THE F*CK AWAY FROM ME MUTHA FUCKA!” and then she takes a swipe at him with the Samsonite. She kept on and on and on, stringing together the most vulgar arrangement of curse words that I have ever even witnessed, much less used, and is screaming them as loud as she possibly can. And it went on forever! Her foul-mouthed, three-minute assault finally pushed the guy to his breaking point. His face was so red and his fists were balled up and he started to stalk towards her, when out of nowhere the 5’3 120 lb. ”manager” arrived to diffuse the situation. This only pissed her off further, because when the manager stepped between them, she stepped up her cursing AND the volume of her voice. “MOTHA F*CKA WHATCHU GONNA DO?! RUN UP ON ME LIKE THAT? COME ON THEN YOU PU$$Y ASS CRACKA! IT’S YO CAREER, NOT MINES! IT’S YO CAREER YOU F*CKIN PU$$Y ASS BASTARD - ALL YOU CAN DO IS CALL THE POLICE NOW ‘CAUSE I’M GON BE WAITIN’ FO YA IN THE PARKIN LOT. I WAIT ALLLLLL DAY MOTHA FUCKA!” And the whole time she’s screaming, she is wildly flailing her arms and bouncing around and pointing to this guy. It was so insane that my jaw was literally on the floor the entire time this was going on, and in all seriousness it was probably a good 5-7 minute ordeal because she would. not. leave. The manager kept trying to gently herd her out the door and every time he got her close, she’d turn around and go off on another rant. I wanted SO bad to yell out to her, “Are you SERIOUS right now?! Do you even KNOW how ridiculous and ignorant you look?! You are about to go to jail because a Sports Authority salesperson asked you if you needed help?!” It really was difficult to keep my mouth from saying those words, but I knew with a 100% certainty that had I directed any comments to her, she would have immediately beaten me to death with her Samsonite. And since I don’t really want to go down in a shitty sporting goods store holding a Cornhole game, I left it alone.
Finally finally finally the manager had her half way out the door (and in the mean time the sales associate has gone into a back office and was beating the shit out of the walls or something in there – you could hear it) when he makes the mistake of placing his hand on her back. At this point the woman’s boyfriend steps out of the shadows (and by shadows I mean from in between the check out lines where he has been casually perusing the selection of chips and candies the ENTIRE time his lady was ripping the sales guy a new asshole) and grabs his arm – “DON’T YOU TOUCH HER MOTHA FUCKA!” And you could almost hear the pee trickling down the manager’s khakis. It was so sad. But by some miracle the boyfriend managed to get the wild woman out of the store and the second they were gone, I paid for my game and got the Cornhole outta there!!!
So there ya have it. This week’s Stupid Person Award Winner. What should her prize be? Perhaps a sleeping bag and some camping gear?… Because there’s no telling how long she’ll sit in that parking lot waiting for that guy. She was definitely still there when I left ran to my car and tore ass out of there.
