Monday, August 31, 2009

Questionable co-pilot

Chip’s Monday morning was shaping up to be well, less desirable than most Monday mornings.

Late last week we noticed that Buddy was snapping around his heinie quite a bit. Chip religiously gives him his Frontline each month and we didn’t see anything, so we ruled out fleas. However, it would bother him to the point that he would stop eating mid-snarf, so we knew this was more than just one of his little tics. My farm girl mother finally diagnosed worms, and after a few Internet searches we determined that this could be the case. So we planned to snag a stool sample and get him over to the vet as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Hillside Animal Hospital couldn’t get us in until Monday morning, which posed a bit of a problem as that is Mary Clare’s day with my mom.

I had a busy day at work, so it was pretty much all on Chip. Eventually we decided that the best thing would be for Chip to take Mary Clare with him to the vet, run Buddy home after the appointment and then zip over to Illinois to meet my mom and do the hand-off. Our plan was flawless, but when you’re dealing with an ailing dog and an eight-month-old child, well, there can be hiccups along the way. Mary Clare might need to be fed, and given Buddy’s symptoms, there was a good chance that both he and Mary Clare might drop the deuce at any given time.

As evidenced by this morning's discussion, preparing for all the different scenarios was clearly taking its toll on the boy.

Chip: So, while I was shaving I was running through all the different things that could go wrong this morning.
Me: Mary Clare ate well and she’s in a good mood. It will be fine.
[Mary Clare begins to cry. Chip gives me a pointed look.]
Chip: Yeah, I’ve got a cranky baby, a sick dog and a bag of shit riding shotgun. What could go wrong?

1 comment:

  1. Sounds like the premise for some ill-fated Ice Cube family comedy.

    By the way, the 1993 version of myself cannot fathom any part of this entire scenario.

    ReplyDelete

Leave a message, please. You know how I love the comments.