Rinse Cycle

OK. So...no life changing event took place on Friday. Unless you call washing, drying and folding every sheet, blanket, robe and article of clothing (in the hamper) you own in one night life changing. I guess that could be it. I mean, I did learn that I could never work at a cleaners. That's called self discovery. Life changing, my friend. Plain and simple.

I woke up Saturday ready to conquer the quest of getting Lola, Dax & Harley to doggie daycare all by my lonesome. I mapped out a plan the night before. Got my blueprints out and outlined the perimeter of primary focus, the place where leashes meet collars--the kitchen. When my dogs see me go for the leash bowl that go ape shit. Just crazy. Lola knows she supposed to sit, but it's like she's so excited that her ass wont connect with the floor for more than half a second. She sits then jumps, sits then jumps. Meanwhile, the boys are dancing around me on their hind legs. It's a mad house! So this time I devised a plan. I put the boys outside and locked the back door. That left just me and Lola in the kitchen. A standoff. I reached for the leash bowl, and her club-like tail went flappin'. And the tourette's began. Sit. Jump. Sit. Jump. I put the boys' leashes in my purse, got Lola ready and headed out the door. Apparently she didn't care if the front door got locked. She was ready to hit the pavement. (She didn't make it to the pavement, but she did hit the stairs. Face first. Haha! I can laugh because I'm her mother). I said Lola! If I don't lock this door someone might come in and steal your rope bone (had to use something she'd care about. The flat screen means nothing to her). If that happens, what will we play tug-o-war with? So, she let me lock the door. I got her into the back seat, all the while the boys are flipping out in the backyard watching me and Lola runaway to paradise (that's what they think is happening). I then go over to the side fence, lean down and pick up one boy at a time, pull him over the fence and put his leash on. Sweating? Yes. Yes, I am.

We all get into the car, and as expected, both boys get in my lap. I roll Lola's window down, and we're off. Things are going fine...until Lola decides she wants to ride shotgun. She hops up front, and then proceeds to stand up. Her front two feet slip off the seat and onto the floor board, which propels her face into the dash. She's a bit stunned and quickly sits her ass down and stays still. I later see that there is blood on my dash (just a tiny bit), and now I feel bad. I check her mouth, give her some love and we're good. My little trooper.

What a relief it was to get them checked in. Whew! And I am happy to report that no poops were taken on the lobby floor. Score! I will say that as glad as I was to drop them off at daycare, I hated being back home without them. The house feels so empty and lonely (sentimental moment). 

On to a different topic. I am happy, no thrilled, to report that Silas is gone. That's right. He finally checked out...witout paying his room service bill, I might add. But I didn't care. He is gone, and that's all that matters. Yay! I have my face back!

Now we are into mid week, and I am anxiously awaiting the weekend. Until next time.