Punked

In my line of work, encountering a less than friendly animal is not unusual. As a matter of fact, it's likely to be a daily occurrence. Such was the case last Friday, when I entered Rosie's room. It's funny that they called her that, because her disposition is exactly the opposite. The moment I walked in, she started barking at me menacingly, and lunging to the extent that her leash would allow in my direction. "Oh, I know, I know, you're not happy to be here." I say in my most understanding and pleasant voice. "I don't blame you." Yeah right. You little bastard.
Obviously, I don't have a picture of the actual Rosie, but I found one on the Internet that'll give everyone a really good idea of what she looked like. As a matter of fact, they could be twins...

So after obtaining a brief and barely audible history from the owners while Rosie yapped away, I was able to get her to leave the room with me after they handed me her leash. She was MUCH better in the back away from her enablers, she let me pick her up and restrain her while we got her temperature and the necessary samples. I recommended to the doc that she follow me back in for the exam and shots while I still had a good grip on Rabies, and she readily agreed. The physical went smoothly, until the doc tried to look in the ear pressed up against my arm- I had her in a pre-sleeper hold. At this point she started giving the doc the crazed evil eye, and she was snarling and showing her pearly whites. The doc determined from the healthy appearance of her ear flap, that the canal under it must be in perfect working order as well.

When we had finished, I transplanted her from the table to the floor without a problem, then turned towards the counter. "Do you want a treat for being such a good girl?" Puh-lease.

And that's when it happened. A symphony of growls and snarls erupted, and I felt the sensation of something grabbing at my left calf. I jumped 3 feet, my heart exploded in my chest, I turned back toward the room, wide eyed and ready to face my enemy- Rosie's owner. He thought it would be funny to act like he was his rotten ass little dog trying to take a chunk out of my leg. I was so freaked out I almost peed my pants, and the doc was almost peeing her pants from laughing so hard. I laughed too- AFTER I realized there was no actual threat. "I'll have to tell my husband about this." I informed the amateur, geriatric comedian. "He'll think it's hilarious. He does crap like that all that time." And he does. He's never actually gotten ME with the vicious dog trick though, considering I know neither of the two dogs in the house with me would ever chew on my body parts. He does get kids with the scar on his lip though. "See that? A dog bit me there. Feel it." Finger extends forward, Aaron roars, kid screams and poops his/her pants.

He has gotten me with other pranks though. Like the time he hid in the dog's kennel then reached out and grabbed my leg when I walked by. And the most horrifying joke of all. Here's how it went- He got home before me, and parked around the corner, so I would be unaware of his presence. Then he got into the tub and laid down, knowing the first thing I'd do after a long day of taking animal schrapnel is take a shower. I opened the curtain, completely nude, to find a burly, unkempt man literally filling the tub. I emitted a blood curdling scream, and I'm sure Aaron enjoyed the show as I'm quite sure anything that could jiggle or quake was doing just that. Then he had the audacity to complain later about how long it took me to have the shit scared out of me. "I thought you were never going to get in. It took you forever!"

So Sumo Girl, as I said, I too have a turtle story. I was driving the girls home from the Y through one of the neighborhoods, when I saw a little turtle trekking determinedly across the road. A couple of cars went around, but there were more coming, and some backing out of their driveways, and I knew if I left him to make his EXTREMELY slow way across the asphalt, he was going to bite it. Accidentally, if not on purpose (you know how despicable some people are). So I stopped the van and picked him up. He never shied into his shell, he kept stretching his neck and paddling away. Now what? I looked around, and there was really no place to put him. It was the suburbs-little yards, few trees, houses only a few feet apart. He must've either gotten away from someone, or someone "set him free" to be obliterated. Lucky for me, I work with someone who is obsessed with this particular reptile. She has several turtles, she also has turtle jewelry, stickers of turtles on her truck, a turtle tattoo on the back of her neck- you get the idea . So anyways, she agrees to give Turtie (or should I say "Turdie"?) a new home, so I hop into the van to head her way, steering with one hand and gripping his shell with the other. An almost obnoxiously social reptile, his little legs are still flailing everywhere, and he is stretching his neck out as absolutely far as he can. And he's tipping his head back and touching the top of his shell with it. "Calm down Turdie!" And that's when the turdies fall out. Onto my leg. Then they roll onto the seat. Then he starts dribbling pee out all over me. "Aaaahhhhh!! Stop it! Disgusting! Why are you doing this to me! I'm trying to help you!" The girls are hysterically laughing at this point, and I'm thinking "salmonellasalmonellasalmonella" and "I should've left you to be cracked like a walnut." He whizzed the ENTIRE way. I even held him out of the window at one point to try save my thie from his acid rain, but it just made him pee more, and it started misting everywhere. UGH. Apparently he's settled well into his new home, and continues to be an active little fella. Cootie.

I was tucking Reese into bed the other night, when Tatum walks in and informs me that she wants a broken arm so she can wear a cast. "No you don't Tatum, it hurts really bad." "Yes I do!" Then she goes on to complain about how her head still hurts from when she hit it on the counter earlier. "You see!" I say. "You cried for like 15 minutes when that happened! If you broke your arm you'd cry for like 2 or 3 days!" She would too. She's one of those kids that will have a breakdown from the slightest injury. She'll open her mouth really wide, and her face will contort with anguish, then these horrible, tortured sounds will emerge. She has a splinter, but you'd think she severed a limb. "I want you to break my arm for me!" "No way! Get a white towel, wrap it around your arm, duct tape it, and have people sign it." "Fine, I'll do it myself!" So she picks up this old, real, but non working wooden/metal gun that they play with (an Aaron contribution of course), and starts lightly tapping her forearm with it. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow." Then she starts giggling, I start laughing, and her quest for broken bones has ended.

I wish I could fault her for thinking being battered would be cool, but I remember thinking the same way. Nothing TOO serious of course- I wouldn't want to burn my ear off or have my eye poked out- but stitches, bruises, abrasions- can make you feel tough and will often earn the admiration of your peers.

Her request actually made me remember something I used to do in grade school. I think this is actually the first time EVER I'm sharing this information, if only because it's been totally forgotten for YEARS. I'd go into the bathroom, get out my mom's makeup, and use her various shades of eyeshadow- blues, browns, yellows- to construct myself a black eye. I did a pretty awesome and realistic job too, if I do say so myself. Of course, I always washed it off before I left the bathroom. At first, they would've gotten upset because they'd think someone had punched me in the eye. THEN, when they found out I had used mom's Clinique to make it LOOK like I had a black eye, they still would have been deeply concerned, but for entirely different reasons...