So, today was the day that Coble and I had to go corrupt the youth of Williamson County. Someone, and I won’t say who, spent her time trying to convince the young women of Williamson County that they had more to look forward to in their lives than their wedding days. And I was a little jealous that none of the girls I was with were concerned about that, though I was interested to learn that the vampire from Twilight is dreamy.
Anyway, while I was busy learning about the wonders of vampire boys, the vet called to say that I should come and get Mrs. Wigglebottom. This was quite a shock, as you can imagine, considering we weren’t supposed to be able to pick her up until tomorrow.
But they had had it with her.
Coble was kind enough to agree to go with me to pick the dog up and I said ‘thank you’ to her one million times in person and I’m taking a moment to say thank you again to her in public because I just don’t think I could have made it through the whole ordeal without her.
First, we could hear Mrs. Wigglebottom screaming as we were waiting to see the doctor and I thought I was going to barf, I felt so bad. Then they kept referring to her as “him” and again no one petted her or talked to her. And when she came into the room, so totally wigged out and so stressed and so drugged up out of her mind, she still managed to come over and greet Coble, who, like a human being, spoke kindly to her and rubbed her back. And when she approached Coble, the nurse flinched, like Mrs. W. was just about to eat Coble.
And she’s wearing this giant lampshade thing on her head which, along with the drugs, was making it very, very hard for her to navigate, and the nurse was just grabbing the collar and whipping her head around.
Finally, we got her out of the vet and she peed for a good five minutes, thank fucking god. Then I lifted her in the car and she was just a wreck. She couldn’t get comfortable and she kept getting her collar caught on the seat and if it hadn’t been for Coble helping her get comfortable and settled and keeping a comforting hand on the dog, I just don’t know how we would have gotten her home.
And then, when we did get her here, Coble sat with her so that I could get the house and the car arranged and just generally made the transition from the vet to the house so much easier than it would have if it had just been me here sobbing and being a terrible mess all on my own.
And Coble agreed that it was obvious that everyone at the vet was giant douchenozzles.
So, anyway, we’ve got the dog home where she belongs and she’s sacked out on the couch, exhausted and completely stoned. We’re supposed to keep her confined to a small space for the next eight weeks, but we’ve decided to not worry about that until we’re done loving on her.