August 15, 2010; Into the Woods

So off we went to the country, Boo-Boo and me. Three wondrous days!!!

I didn't have to worry about Skeeter offing himself because he figured out he had systematically forgotten to take his anti-depressants. Why? Because they made him nauseous on an empty stomach and instead of taking them the moment he awoke and the moment he came back from the clinic, he would eat something first and subsequently forget to take them at all. How did he find this out? By noticing, at the end of the month, that there was still a week's worth of pills left. Just goes to show you how fragile humans are and how important routines are. And what a fucking numbnuts and perhaps the world would be better off without him.

Anyhoo...

Boo-Boo. Country.

So off we went on a 90 minute car ride. I hate cars. Cars take you to the vet. Cars take you to other people's houses where strange kids poke you in the eye and you can't even bite them for it. And worse: rented cars have a smell. With the Febreze there are still undertone—very unsubtle to a dog's nose—of baby shit, child puke and cum. Cars, simply, make me barf. But Boo thought he'd solve that problem by sitting me in the front next to him. However, conscious of safety, he put me on the leash and tied the leash to the seat. Nice. This meant if we crashed I wouldn't become a projectile; instead I would have my neck snapped like a twig in October. The worst thing that might happen to poor Boo is if my head was ripped clean off and bumped him in the arm. The other effect of the leash was that I could not see outside. So I wasn't barfy, I was pissed off.

Things got no better when we got there. I was kept inside the chalet or leashed and the whole place smelled of rodents: mice, squirrels, beavers, porcupines. Rodent with a soupçon of skunk. And I couldn't hunt. I could just pace. Which I did.

Until the second day when the fucking chalet became overrun with humans. Boo received his parents and his sister and brother-in-law and talk about getting in my face. The old lady is nice enough though she smells of cat. But the brother-in-law wanted to play with me. So I made him run, figuring, "He's over 50—maybe he'll have a cardiac and leave me alone." The whole time the guests were there, Boo watched me like a hawk in case they offered me food and I took it, God forbid!

I did puke on the ride back...waited until we got on a bridge into the city to do it. I didn't need to puke; I just figured Boo had it coming for dragging me out to Hell's half-acre.

When I got into the apartment Skeeter was glad to see me and I was glad to see my own bed. During our walk later on Skeet asked how it had gone, really. "Well let's just say that for a trip that was supposed to get him destressed before the school year starts, it was rather stressing. He watched me. I felt watched. There was no TV. You do the math."

Eva Gabor was right: Give me Park Avenue.