What a night
Geoff and I dog sat for my parents last night while they took Celeste to Ohio to watch her cousin compete in a horse show. Rather than going back and forth several times (we live about 20 minutes apart), we were spending the night there, and we were both looking forward to it. It’s so pretty up there. (This picture was taken from their front yard.)
When we arrived, though, the house was SO warm. They have this bizarre double-thermostat (some kind of timer thing?) and we were afraid if we messed with it, we’d screw it up, so we went outside, hoping it might be cooler with the breeze from the river. No such luck. It was unbearably muggy out there. But before we could go back inside, the pup slipped out of his collar and tore off straight for the nearest neighbor’s house. The neighbor who owns wolves.
By the time we recaptured the brat, we were both wringing wet. We decided to go back inside, turn the ceiling fan on high and watch a little TV. Except we couldn’t figure out how to get any of their THREE remote controls to operate the set. After running through all logical options, we began randomly pushing buttons and were finally rewarded with a single channel. The show? The O’Reilly Factor.
NOOOOooooooo!
We went upstairs to see if their bedroom TV might be easier to operate, except as soon as we walked in the room, Murry jumped on the bed . . . and peed on it. He’s NEVER done anything like that before. I don’t know what got into him. I carried all the bedding downstairs and got it started in the washer. (Nothing like running a dryer to make a hot house even hotter.)
And then my parent’s oldest dog had to add his two cents. Mac, who is about 15 years old, sometimes woofs at things that aren’t there. He has this scratchy, old Jazz singer kind of voice, so it’s a cool little bark. Unfortunately, when he started, my two boneheads didn’t recognize there was no emergency and they panicked. One “oof” from Mac and they were off, yapping and howling all night. Add to that the ding-dong-dong-ding chiming of their big clock every fifteen minutes and you have a recipe for a night of pure hell. I feel like a zombie today.
