I have the stomach flu and it sucks. Anyone who stands within 10 feet of me knows I’m sick, either by the color of my face, or the mixture of smells emanating from my body. I was scheduled to go to Florida for a girls’ trip, but had to cancel because of the flu.
Needless to say I’m not a happy camper.
And what in the world does that expression mean? Is there such a thing as a happy camper? I can’t imagine there is, as there’s no air conditioning or cable. If I’m ever camping, I can assure you I won’t be a happy camper.
Tonight my husband went to a movie screening, as he lives a fabulous life as a movie critic. Since I was supposed to be in fabulous Florida this evening, he already made dinner plans and left me on my own. He’s so inconsiderate isn’t he?
I decided that if I’m sick and my body isn’t going to absorb any of the calories I ingest anyway, I might as well eat something delicious and fatty for dinner. Naturally, I thought of Hardee’s.
Because I’m far too lazy to eat my Hardee’s meal at the restaurant, I decided to go through the drive thru for dinner. As if eating Hardee’s isn’t a dumb enough decision, I decided to make it exponentially dumber….I decided to take all 3 of my dogs with me in the car.
Clearly, in addition to losing control of my bowels, I’d also lost control of my senses as well.
I had a thought process behind this madness, I promise. I figured there was no way I could take all 3 dogs on a walk, but they were wound up and needed to get rid of some pent up energy. I figured a ride in the car would be a good way to get them out of the house, and would require no work on my part. Obviously, I was delusional.
I got out the leashes and emphasized to the dogs that we were going for a ride only, and not a walk, as if their brains understood anything other than “Treat” and “Let’s hump whomever walks in the front door.”
My apologies to the AT&T U-verse salesmen. I still don’t think he’s recovered from that gang bang.
I leashed them up and attempted to walk out the front door with all 3 dogs on leashes. Not so much. The dogs managed to wrap themselves around me and I practically fell out the front door.
Fortunately Shady Jack caught my fall and I avoided what would certainly be an embarrassing evening in the ER.
Miraculously, the dogs seemed to understand we were going to the car and not for a walk. They pulled to the car and jumped in, excited about the trip.
Okay. This was going to be easier than I expected. I got in and started the car. Bentley is my personal body guard, so he jumped on my lap to protect me from any dangers the road may provide.
Shady Jack jumped in the passenger seat, his tail wagging and his nose sniffing out the wrappers of 5 different power bars on the floor (and by “power bars” I mean Twix and M&Ms).
Max was too dumb to know what was going on, so he sat in the back seat and licked his crotch.
I pulled out of the driveway, wondering how successful this trip would be, and if I would return with all 3 dogs. I wasn’t so sure.
As we headed down the road, the car started dinging a reminder to put on my seat belt. I may be a rebel on some things, but I always wear my seat belt. I looked down at the message board on my vehicle and it told me my passenger needed to put on a seat belt.
Obviously my car didn’t know that my passenger was a 60 pound pit/lab mix with a bad case of farts and a dislike for safety.
I continued to drive and tried to ignore the dinging, which only made it seem louder and more annoying. The same thing occurs when I try to tune out any of Michael Bolton’s music.
Shady Jack obviously didn’t like the dinging either, as he became quite fidgety and wouldn’t sit still. I decided the best way to get him to lay down in the seat was to turn on the seat warmer for him.
I turned it on high and watched his reaction, hoping the heat would calm him down. The result was certainly interesting.
Instead of laying down on the warm seat and absorbing the heat, he continually lifted his paws as if he was standing on a hot seat.
This is not to be confused with sitting in the hot seat, which is what my husband will be doing when he gets home from his dinner and movie plans.
I pulled up to the drive thru to place my order. When I rolled down my window, Bentley immediately barked at the screen and attempted to bite the voice coming from the speaker.
Obviously I was under attack.
Shady Jack also seemed intrigued by the sounds coming from outside, and took time away from his game of hot potato to get a closer look.
Max was unaffected and continued to groom himself.
I placed my order and drove around to pay. When I pulled up, I handed the woman my credit card, careful to only allow enough room for my hand to slide through the window opening, as I didn’t want my five pound Yorkie to bite the employee’s hand off.
And then I realized my error, and no, it wasn’t my decision to have 3 dogs. I realized I had no idea what I was going to do with a bag full of food. Where was I going to put it in a car full of dogs?
The employee handed me my order while casually trying to snap a photo of me with her phone, as I’m sure she was planning on passing my picture around the break room as a “do not serve this customer” precaution.
I grabbed the bag of goodness and immediately shoved it under the driver’s seat…as if three dogs wouldn’t be able to smell a bag of steaming hot carbs. Well…two of them could smell it. Max seemed unaffected and looked blankly out the window.
I drove away, trying to keep Bentley on my lap and Shady Jack on his hot seat and away from my dinner. Max rediscovered his crotch and resumed licking.
When we arrived home I realized I had yet another dilemma. How was I going to get three dogs, my purse, a drink, and my bag of food out of the car without injuring myself or losing an animal?
Clearly I didn’t think this trip through. I decided I could do it all in one trip, as clearly I’m delusional with sickness. I opened the door and Bentley fell out of the car, landing on his back.
I panicked and reached down to help him, at which time Shady Jack jumped over my body and exited the vehicle. Fortunately his leash was stuck on the seat, so he was jolted back to the vehicle when the leash fully extended.
I unwrapped myself from his leash, grabbed Bentley’s leash, and exited the car, my bag of dinner in hand. Hey, I had priorities.
Fortunately, Max didn’t seem to notice the car had stopped, or that 3 of the passengers had exited the vehicle, so I had some extra time to get him.
I set the bag of goods down on my front lawn and went to the back seat to free Max from the prison he was unaware he was in. For some reason I couldn’t get the door unlocked, and the other two dogs pulled at their leashes, which were loosely wrapped around my right hand.
I finally opened the door to let Max out, at which time Shady Jack jumped into the back seat. Obviously he was ready for another ride to a fast food joint. (Soon buddy, a milk shake was definitely in my future.)
I coaxed Max and Shady Jack out of the car, all the while keeping a hold on Bentley and a close eye on my bag of food, sitting helplessly on the lawn. We walked up the steps to the front door and I fumbled with the keys.
I finally found the right one and put it in the door only to discover the door wasn’t locked at all. Perfect. Someone probably robbed my house while I was gone. Whatever. At least I would die with a full stomach.
It took two additional trips to bring in my drink, food, purse and phone. As I made the third trip inside the house with my phone, I realized the dogs didn’t seem worn out from the ride at all, although I was positively exhausted.
I headed to the dining room and sat down to eat my dinner. I pulled the food out of the bag and discovered they gave me the wrong order. Seriously?!
Because I knew I wouldn’t survive a return trip to Hardee’s, and because I was sure my photo was already printed and hanging in the break room, I decided to eat whatever was in the bag and not take the food back.
Although it wasn’t the cheeseburger and fries I ordered, the sausage biscuits and gravy weren’t too bad….and just as predicted, my dinner ended the same way…with a trip to the restroom.