Skip to main content

What an @s$hole


I found Bruce rather by accident about 6 years ago while running errands for my grieving grandmother. She had just lost her third child (of six) and asked me to deliver various payments and run general errands around town. 

I found myself at the florist placing orders for the funeral, painfully selecting "elegant but not too flashy" thank you cards, dropping a check off for an urn, and lastly paying the gas bill (Don't be late! That's due! {not for another two weeks it wasn't} It'll ruin my credit if I'm late!)

My grandmother was the queen of early. She had me convinced that my inspection and registration stickers actually expired the month PRIOR to what the sticker indicates. I would hurriedly rush to the mechanic for an inspection on the 31st of the month, out of breath- "Please don't take me to jail!"

My college roommate discovered what I'd been doing and she set the record straight. 
Ironically, empowered with this new lackadaisy attitude about inspections I let it go a bit too long and received a ticket. Which I promptly forgot about. I was later pulled over again (for the same inspection sticker) and was jailed for the previously issued ticket. 

Shoulda listened to grandma. 

As I was driving the once familiar roads of  Decatur, TX to the gas company (Don't be late!) I realized a few things. For starters, two lane roads are terrifying. Period. At any moment some jack ass can swerve into your lane without so much as a row of trees, or a concrete separation, or anything to slow them down. And secondly, puppies are cute no matter how much they're puking on you. 

The meter readers at the gas company had found a box containing 7 puppies in the field earlier that day. When I presented the bill and check to the receptionist (gotta love a local natural gas company!) she asked if I wanted to see the puppies. I was hesitant (at least that's what I told my two roommates at the time) but something called to me. Now, maybe it was his constant crying, or the cut below his left eye but I was instantly drawn to this little black and white scrapper. He wasn't with any of his brothers or sisters and was very interested in the people milling around. I patted his head and he puked. I stayed a few more minutes but then needed to go on my way. 

I walked through the glass door and got into my car. I looked up as I was putting the car into reverse and saw that pukey puppy with his little filthy paws on the door trying to follow me. I sighed, put it in park and jogged back to the door and scooped him up and gave a little wave to the receptionist. 

I now had a dog. 

As cute as the puking was to me, it turned out Bruce was ill. Very ill. Natural selection was doing its part to take the 5 week old out I was fighting worm and parasite to keep him in. There were injections, creams, pills, worm extractions (which really freaked all my neighbors out. There I was, middle of winter with latex gloves pulling long worms out of a sickly looking puppie's asshole. No wonder they never waived, or shook my hand for that matter.) 

After two months I had myself a physically healthy, grossly codependent pup. I named him Bruce Ignatius. I told him I would never again pull anything out of his arse. 

Comments

TexasYank said…
Twas a match made in heaven!
~Cousin Vanessa

Popular posts from this blog

Things to know before becoming friends with me in real life: A cursory user's guide.

I have wished for a very long time that people came with model-specific user guides. A helpful "Best Practices in maintaining friendship" if you will, and more importantly a cautionary list of "Best-not-to's". In an effort to encourage the documentation of these things by the people I love, I have endeavored to compile a  warning label  user guide to being friends with me.  I'll start with the basic warnings 1. Never give me a key to your house. Sure I'll walk your dog/feed your cat/ probably  water your plants. But is it really worth it if you have me show up occasionally at 7:30am on Saturday morning because no one else is awake and I know I can literally shake you out of bed to have breakfast with me? Sure it is! 3 out of 397 facebook friends agree/can't get their key back from me. Side note: should you actually give me a copy of your house key it is best to make it an obnoxious color or print that I can easily associate with you. I've got ...

Jesus take the wheel

Last night, after valeting cars in subfreezing temperatures I endeavored to drive myself home during what can only be called a blizzsaster – hey, I'm a Texan. Any amount of precipitation (frozen or not) wreaks havoc on all living things here. We just can't cope. My valet job had me in Arlington, Texas and after my shift I had to get my frozen self home to Oak Cliff , which is a little over 20 miles away. My coworker also lives in the OC (don't call it that) so she used her iPhone to find the path of least resistance for us. You may be wondering why we didn't just get a hotel near the job site. Well, there's a very logical explanation for that. Jerry Jones made a pact with the devil  and has promised the beast the soul of every Dallasite that is not a football fan. With no room at any inn, coworker and I began the slow crouch toward home.  At the very first stop light we encountered we learned two valuable lessons. 1) You need about 20 feet to stop in 4 inches of sn...

Adventures in Un-stored Phone Numbers, Episode 1

I have mentioned before that I have a really hard time taking care of small, delicate things. I have a propensity to drop them, and in my younger, more alcohol-infused days I had a propensity to throw them at anyone who irritated the hell out of me. Or anyone that was sitting where I wanted to sit. Or wearing a similar outfit to mine. But mostly, I just tend to epically drop things (epically = at least two stories of free fall, preferably onto hardwood or concrete) Because I annihilate cell phones so often I have become accustomed to answering un-stored numbers, because *most* of the time it's a friend. Every now and then I get a gorgeous gem of dysfunctional dialogue that is worth sharing. I present to you Episode 1 of "Adventures in Un-stored Phone Numbers" All sentences in italics represent my internal monologue and should be read as such. Even this one. Episode 1, "Lisa unintentionally oversteps her bounds" INT. ANGELA'S APT - EARLY AFTERNOON. I am sitt...