It is pouring out and I have a vet appointment for all three dogs. They do not like to ride in the car. Leashes only mean one thing--a ride to the place of pain and confusion. There will be mud and dog hair all over in my freshly cleaned vehicle. Wicket won't get in the car. She is an overweight super-size Corgi. When I lift her up, she starts squeeling like the pig that she is.
On the way to town, Wicket, also known as the sea cow, tries to crawl around the console to hide under my feet. I keep pushing her back, rattling a large bag of scary bubble gum at her as a further deterrent.
I leave the dogs in the car while I run in to Office Max to pick up some estimate forms for small claims court. "Don't chew up too much stuff," I mutter, locking the doors. Minutes later, I return. Princess, the mini-Aussie, is sitting in my seat, paws on the steering wheel. Wicket has gotten stuck trying to get where she wants to go. Eddie, the mini Corgi, has his leash hung up on an arm rest. So things are good.
Wicket won't get out of the car. I pull on the lead and her collar comes off. I tighten it and try again. Eddie is also refusing. They are stubborn, like cats. By the time I get them in the clinic, we are all soaked. They heartily shake off the wet. There are no places to sit. I shorten the leashes and wait while they try to make sense of dogs they see as an affront to their ownership of me. There is much growling. Then they turn on each other. I am yanking them apart and yelling, "Princess bitch, knock it off."
Wicket weighs nearly as much as the other two dogs combined. I get the lecture about her weight and promise to give it another go. While I wait for the bill, I put the dogs in the car. The grand total is $580.02.
As I am backing up, Wicket succeeds at getting to my side of the floor. Her weight is suddenly on my driving foot, which accelerates the gas. Then there is this Oh Shit crunch. I go back inside to announce that I have backed into a nice new black SUV. It belongs to some older woman wearing nice clothes. She gives her poodle to the vet tech while she comes out to take pictures. She is nice about what has happened to her tail light.
My rusty tailgate is dented, but still opens. Now I will look like one of those old people who backs into things without looking. Ugh. But I will suck it up, because my tires are new and I am determined to drive this thing into the ground. I have more pressing things to spend my money on. Meanwhile, I pretend I am really rich, but driving an old piece of shit as a cover for my wealth.
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