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by Slo Mo 00/Apr/30 Okay, so I thought things went pretty well on my first night here. Sure I had second-degree burns on the front half of my body, but the back half of me was fine, and that's the part that has to sit! Also, even though Dog still won't let me on the sofa he didn't mind when I climbed into bed. In fact, Dog seemed downright subdued, but I thought he was just pining for my cousin. I certainly didn't think it had anything to do with the disappearing act he'd pulled for the duration of "Rocko's Modern Life". Heck, a guy (even a canine guy) deserves his privacy when he's out puttering in the garden, especially if that's where he goes to take a whizz. So Dog parked himself at the foot of the bed and I fell into a deep, Solarcaine-enhanced slumber, disturbed only by a recurring series of odd yelps and whining sounds. I thought I was dreaming, but noooo... Because when the sun came up over the ocean and I finally awoke, the yelping and whining sounds were still there, but now they were accompanied by a noxious odor and an odd expression on Dog's face. Plus his belly was swollen out to, like, three times its normal size and he was sitting all hunched over at an odd angle. Now, I'm a huge fan of E.R., so it didn't take me long to put two and two together and come up with... GASTRIC ALERT! "Did you eat something bad, old buddy? Do you need to puke?" I opened the patio door and Dog crab-walked all 200 pounds of his hairy, stinking self to the side garden, where he attempted to relieve himself. But all that came out was more gas. Then I saw it: The guava bush was stripped bare, and I mean we re talking BARE. It was one nekkid bush. And I was pretty sure it wasn't like that the day before. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I'd noticed how laden with fruit it had been, and how lovely I thought it would be to bake some guava tarts, if only I knew how to bake... Oh, lordy! I marched Dog back into the house, farting all the way (Dog, not me), and grabbed the keys to my cousin's new Cabrio - the vet clinic brochure she'd stuck on the fridge said they accepted emergency walk-ins, and I was pretty sure that a guava-bloated beast constituted an emergency. I managed to heave Dog into the back seat and put on some soothing elevator music for him while we reversed down the driveway, but no sooner did we get to the street than Dog let out a bloodcurdling shriek and then something foul splattered against my headrest and ricocheted off the dashboard. Guava berries. Lots and lots of pre-digested guava berries. So that s how I found myself at 8 a.m. on my second day in paradise: a) stalled in the middle of our street with "Do You Know The Way To San Jose" blaring on the stereo's surround sound, b) as streams of projectile diarrhea covered the Cabrio's custom interior, c) and I struggled to get the top down so Dog could hang his ass out the side and aim for the sidewalk, d) while doing my best to avoid the little rapid-fire guava BBs that were still ricocheting everywhere, and e) nonchalantly waving to a concerned passersby. And a good f--ing morning to YOU, too! |
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