I was reading Cicada’s post called “Oh Brother…” yadda yadda. I was reminded of ditching my wife and our weekeng plans:
Yesterday was pretty eventful. I had spent the week going up the canyon daily to be with workmates at our annual retreat. Because the leaves are changing colors, I thought it would be a good opportunity to for my wife (we’ll call her Limpy) and me to go up the canyon and enjoy the scenery.
Halfway up the canyon, my brother Chewy calls and says he has two tickets to the football game later in the afternoon. Chewy is the brother that has just had jaw surgery on account o’ his mandible is too long. ( I will write details of that story later.) My nephew really wanted to go to the game–as did I–so Chewy asked me to take him. Also, my brother is 4 days out of surgery and isn’t feeling as well as he had hoped. I told him to give me five minutes and I would call him back.
Can you see my dilemma? I have been telling Limpy all week about the pretty scenery and now I have an opportunity to totally ditch her and go to the game.
So I hung up the phone with my brother and told Limpy the situation. I said dutifully, “I don’t really want to go; what should I tell Chewy?”
“I think you should go.”
WOW. I’ve got a free pass to ditch Limpy and go to the game for FREE. With permission. From Limpy.
Not that I wanted to ditch her, but I really like football.
So I call Chewy back and tell him that I would be happy to take his son to the game, but that he will have to bring the son to me and take Limpy home so I can still spend the remaining hours with Limpy up the canyon instead of driving back to Chewy’s house to get the Nephew. Chewy agrees to deliver the boy and we arrange a meeting place. Then Limpy and I went up the canyon and enjoyed about two hours of breathtaking scenery.
“So what does this story have to do with DOG BARF??” you say.
And I say, “hold your horses; I’m getting to it.”
Well, when my nephew was delivered at the meeting place, he was carsick. He looked positively green in the face and it was clear he was going to need a minute. As a child I was a very carsick little boy. [BOO! Hiss! get to the dog barf!] [Wait for it.] I know how it feels to be completely miserable and just waiting for the car to stop so I could walk on my own two feet.
After a moment, my nephew assured me he was feeling well and that we could go. I distrustfully asked if he was sure, and he told me he was fine. So I fired up the car and we took off. I was fearful that in the stop and go traffic jam toward the game that he was going to blow, and I wondered what I would do if he did. [This is where you may not want to finish reading if you are pregnant and/or weak-stomached.]
Then I remembered the dog barf. [Finally the dog barf. Hooray!]
When I was in the Boy Scouts, my scoutmaster was taking a group of us to the farm so we could see a real dairy. He also insisted we take the dog with us. The smelly mutt the scoutmaster owned (yes I said owned) was annoying anyway, but I am allergic to dogs AND I tend to get carsick–so the dog was a special annoyance that day. The dog kept climbing on my lap during the ride and I kept pushing the dog back on the floor where it belonged.
After repeatedly forcing the dog back to the floor, the scoutmaster decided to teach the dog a lesson and slammed on his brakes. The dog fell, as planned, but as it fell it barfed on my lap. Dog-food barf. Brown/gray, warm, smelly dog-food barf. My buddies in the car were laughing at me until they caught the odor of the maliferous, bilious liquid, then they almost lost it too.
As an awkward teen, I was mortified and was sure the story would have gossiped its way through school in the next few days. To my surprise, nobody mentioned it again. The flashback to dog barf ended and I was pleased to be thinking, “If I can get through dog barf, I can get through anything.” I was sure I was man enough to handle the situation if my nephew got sick again.
My nephew perked right up, never felt sick again, I got to spend the time with Limpy, my nephew and I enjoyed the game immensely and now I have a fond memory with a horrible memory imbedded in it. Yes, dog barf will remind me of my nephew from now on.