You really have to be careful how you phrase things.

I had a shite day. Like, completely, 100% crap. Almost nothing went at all correctly. About the only things that actually went according to plan were a) I was able to withdraw money from the ATM, and b) I was able to purchase a stamp at the post office. The rest of the day? Shite.

1. I had to go today to the County Clerk's office to renew my business DBA registration. Had to be done *today*.

The building is closed until further notice, and the only way to do it was to drive downtown, a feat I had neither the time nor willpower to do.

2. I had to buy a printer ribbon for the fax machine.

Nope. Not in stock.

3. I needed to go see a man about a purchase I ordered ages ago and then forgot to go pay for.

Not open on Mondays.

4. I went into Baja Fresh nextdoor, to buy a badly needed chunk of deep-fried carbs known as a churro.

Out of churros.

I need to move out, and I have no way to pay rent, no idea what to do to pay rent, and no idea where to pay rent, since I can't afford to continue living in Los Angeles, especially with two large dogs, but I have no way to get my shit crosscountry to anywhere else. So I have decided just to pack my shit and decide where to put it afterward.

Sorry for the use of the pejorative, but damn it, that's the day I had, one in which the only appropriate way to refer to all the belongings one has accrued in one's lifetime as "shit." It may not sound like much on "paper," but believe me, it was a really crap day.

I then came home and cleaned the kitchen, which was part of what the fight was about, and believe me, there's a crapload more to it, but let's just leave it at I needed to clean the kitchen.

I then left home to take the dogs to the bark park without remembering to turn on the dishwasher, so when I got home to make dinner?

No clean dishes.

So I went to start the dishwasher.

No dishwasher detergent.

Earlier in the day, I had remarked aloud that the only way my day could get any frigging worse was if someone ended up dead or in the emergency room.

Would you care to guess where my day next led?

If you guessed puppy ER, give yourself a cookie and 100 points.

While TB and I were discussing the crapitude in our relationship at the moment, Napoleon, who was at my feet, rooting around the edge of the floor as he always does, began to choke. TB had to get down and remove whatever it was from his throat. I will spare you the grisly details. 10 minutes later, Napoleon was still trying to hack/throw up whatever was in his throat, so I took him to the ER, where they gave him stuff to make him throw up...and then came out and gave me a HUGE lecture on what a bad pet owner I am as they showed me the contents of his stomach, which was, aside from the obvious disgusting, appalling. Pine cones (copious, copious amounts), 3" long pine needles (both brown and green), pine twigs, whole chunks of Natural Balance deli roll he did not bother to chew (the largest of which was approx. 1.5 x 1 x .5" and earned me an extra scolding), kibble, canned food, small rocks, the fabric from the underside of a sofa, cardboard, bits of a red bottle lid, and the piece de resistance: several chunks of green plastic safety netting. Almost all of which he ingested while I was out running errands today and TB was supposed to be supervising him. So TB has paid the vet bill and does not expect to be reimbursed, since he feels largely responsible for the entire escapade. And the cost of the bill?

$300.

For stuff to make him throw up, stuff to stop him from throwing up, charcoal to coat his entire digestive track, incase he ate anything toxic or caustic which is what made him choke, and syrup to give him tomorrow to coat his throat and stomach, in case all that sharp crap ulcerated the lining of his stomach and/or esophagus. Frankly, I thought it was going to be $500, so 3 was a bit of a relief. He can not go outside unsupervised or do anything more strenous than go on a short, leashed walk for the next 3-4 days. He's currently passed out in his box behind me, where I put him when he insisted on wrestling with Razzle until he rasped and wheezed so loudly you could hear it from 6' away. :(

All of this after I put my knee into his ribs at the bark park for repeatedly doing a bad behavior, and he yelped sharply, then immediately sat and gave me the single most heartbreaking look ever, which clearly said "what did you do that for?" in an utterly confused and betrayed fashion. It made me feel like the biggest jerk ever, and I had to work not to cry for being such a loser to my dog. Now he's been shot up with drugs twice, made to throw up, and imprisoned in his box so he'll be still. :(

When the vet tech brought him out to me at the end of his 2 hour event at the ER tonight, she remarked, "Your dog will eat anything." To which I nodded sagely, as I know this about him already, and said, "Yes, he will."

"No," she said, "you don't understand. We gave him charcoal. We have to force feed that to 90% of the dogs that come in here, but he wolfed it down like it was candy. He'll eat anything."

Awesome.

peace out,
katie