2003-12-30 @ 3:34 p.m.
|I know I can say without a moment's hesitation, the dog I am caring for is a total dogbone slut (uh oh, here comes the Google brigade on that one).
This dog is quite adorable, but it basically has two expressions. The first one is what I call the doggie death ray stare, which it uses when I am laying on the futon. It comes and stares at me, with its head tilted slightly downward, and beaming some givemeadogbone brain waves telepathically. If I take too long to respond, it'll rest its head on the futon, with its nostrils undulating moistly and puffing its fluffy black jowls in and out in total disgust.
Like why are you taking so long to get me a freakin' bone???
And then I'll finally get up and go out to the Dog Bone Vault. And this is very exciting to the dog. Ultra exciting as a matter of fact. I always worry about the possibility of having to do doggie CPR.
So I grab the doggie bone (why does that sound naughty?), but I figure for all the effort involved with getting my lazy ass off the futon, I might as well get some amusement out of this. So I always make the dog "talk". And I really get into this. I kind of do doggie talk myself. I woof, and rawwf, and woooooooof! And then this is where the other doggie expression kicks in. She cocks her head and looks at me like I'm a freakin' lunatic.
But then she really gets into it and jumps around woofing. She's a little sausage and sometimes when she jumps vertically, with all four feet off the floor simultaneously, I again worry about the doggie CPR thing, but eventually give her the doggie bone.
Yeah, I'm a real taskmaster, but I do need some entertainment.
So I woke up this morning with my cat tucked under my armpit. Why mention this? Because my cat doesn't normally sleep with me. She won't even jump on my bed. She sleeps on her own bed. You know, the independence thing. It was really weird though, because I had had a dream last night that some cops had come to my apartment to tell me my cat was dead.
Is that not a wicked sad dream? If I were Freud I probably would have translated it more towards the fact that my car is dead.
I finally dropped Married Guy an e-mail about it. I hadn't talked to him since last Tuesday, other than an e-mail for his birthday. When he heard about my car, he offered to bring me some groceries. Thought that was nice.
So my mom finally called the garage about said car today. It's going to cost less than I thought, but its still substantial for someone without money. $282.50. The guy told her what was wrong with the car. The CVS joint was broken, the transmission seal was ruptured and the axle of the car had actually snapped off. Oh, pshaw, who needs an old car axle anyways....
So, we told the guy to go ahead and fix it. I have $100 stashed at home for....car repairs. And I'm going to borrow the other $182.50 from my aunt, until I get paid for my house sitting duties in mid-January. I had hoped I could keep the $300 from this job to have and to hold for something fun, or possibly for cable TV, but I guess it will go towards fixing my car.
Funny how that worked out.
The Lord giveth...the Lord taketh away. But at least He was good enough to time it this way. He did that last year too. Zenshrink had actually gotten me a graphics job a year ago September which had netted me a juicy $600. And that had paid for a car repair in November 2002. So I guess the moral of the story is....get one big job a year to keep the old clunker running.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty