When it rains, it pours, they say, and boy are THEY right!
You all know that Kommit passed away Saturday. Well, my husband has been worried about me lately (with everything going on) and wanted me to call him when I arrived at my parent’s house. So, I did.
“I’m here,” I told him when he answered the phone.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he sighed.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said none too quietly.
“Don’t worry, it’s not TERRIBLE. But Berra’s in heat.”
“Of course she is.” I was still sitting in my Jeep and wanted to slam my head off the steering wheel. “Wait, I thought they didn’t go into heat until six months…oh shit, she’s nine months old!”
“I put her in the cage in the garage. Don’t worry I cleaned it out first. I just wanted you to know,” he explained while trying to make me feel a little better about the situation.
“Okay, I’ll buy her some pants on my way home.” What the hell else could I do? Time had slipped away once again and I hadn’t gotten her fixed and now I had to deal with it.
And so did she…
Berra is now the proud wearer of fuchsia and purple pants which make her look like a Super Dog.
Funny thing, she already thinks she can fly.
When she jumps off something she jumps OUT rather than DOWN.
Our deck is about five feet off the ground and we didn’t get the railing on AGAIN this year. If this dog even THINKS she can fly with her new hot pants...
I’m taking a fucking bridge with cement shoes.