Nothing Good Comes from Waking Up at 7:45 a.m.

I didn’t wake up at 7:45 a.m. today. No. I slept until the crack of 8:30 (I think, morning seems like a long time ago now). I woke up at 7:45 a.m. on Friday and hoo boy had I known that was going to be the cause of all my problems, I’d have slept in until right now.

Aside: getting up at 7:45 was not the cause of all my problems, but I sure as hell am going to pin them all on that..

So I had to get up at 7:45 a.m. on Friday because I needed to dogsit BFK’s dogs. See, they had painters coming over to paint their house and she thought it would be much easier for them if the house wasn’t filled with barky, canine jerks. I agreed and since I was doing literally nothing but hanging out with Walter I said, “sure bring those barky, canine jerks over here.”

Aside: I was doing literally nothing because work has slowed down to an oh-my-god-how-am-I-going-to-pay-the-mortgage-anxiety-producing pace. This might have a small effect on all my problems or my inability to deal with minor annoyances, but I’m sticking with it being all 7:45 a.m.’s fault.

Before I continue on, I have to tell you that BFK has four pets: two cats and two dogs. Their names are: Lois, Clark, Lex, and Bruce Wayne. Bruce is the newest addition to the Pepper-Bomb family, his a skittish foster dog that turned into a forever dog. Also, I need to remind you that Batman is the worst.

Things were going pretty well for me and my canine companions. Bruce, being the fraidy cat that he is, refused to let me take him outside for our mid-morning break and I thought nothing of it, because it was cold and windy and I’d not go outside if I didn’t really, really have to either.

However, by the time after lunch rolled around I was adamant that all dogs must go outside to pee. Bruce, adopting the total awfulness of his namesake was having none of that, and proceeded to run from me at every turn. Frustrated and cranky, I was all “fuck you, Batman.” And I took the other dumb dogs out, texting BFK that she’d have to come give her jerky dog a walk before too long because hew as refusing my generosity. She agreed and said she’d be there within the hour.

Roughly eight minutes later, I was sending he numerous exclamation-laden texts telling her she was needed at Supergenius HQ urgently because dickhead Bruce had escaped like The Flash (wrong superhero jerky dog) out the front door when I brought the other two mutts in.

Aside: This is getting way longer than I intended.

I will make this long story a little shorter by telling you that Bruce was gone for more than an hour. AN HOUR! It was the longest hour ever. It was almost as long as that time I had to wait 30 minutes to find out how Jaycie was after a snowboarding fall.

For an hour, I sat here sick to my stomach near tears, so fucking angry and sad that I had lost my best friend’s stupid dog. Eventually Kari found the little bastard a few blocks from my house at the corner of a very busy intersection. My stomach still hurts when I think about it, but damn I’ve never been so happy to see a damn dog in my entire life.

Aside: BFK brought Bruce back and for the rest of the day he was my BFF. So much my BFF that when The Tibbles came over for dinner he hopped up in my lap and wouldn’t leave. Stupid jerk dogs and their cuteness. He’s lucky he’s soft and shiny.

There were other things I’ve been blaming on having to get up early Friday morning: general crankiness; the fact that I’ve had to get up every two hours to pee on Friday night; the downstairs toilet overflowing; the fact that I took down a client’s entire website not once, but twice; how I was gonna spend a few hours yesterday morning updating my portfolio only to take down that website and then have to dig and dig and dig for a backup to restore the stupid thing; and also I was reading a shitty book that I had to quit; and I’m sure there were other things I just can’t remember them.

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  1. Susanna 21.Mar.17 at 10:11 am

    OMG, dogsitting. When I was watching my BFF’s dogs once, 2/3 of them escaped from their new house. Friend was in Europe. We were headed out of town that day and handing over dog responsibilities to someone else. I was posting on NextDoor, driving around, crying, freaking out, etc. Didn’t tell friend until I found them, which happened because I went back just to check once more and the dogs were in the house, wagging their tails at me, like “What’s up, crazypants?” (Gaslighters!) Then my friend said, “Oh yeah, we need to fix that back fence, they keep running off.” AAAUUUGH.

    Also, the BFF after trauma is a training technique I call “bonding through fear.” It’s how our little rescue became my instapal — the roofers were scarier than I was.

    1. Jodi 21.Mar.17 at 10:16 am

      Damn dogs. They’re lucky they’re so cute and fuzzy and curl up on your feet when it’s cold out.

      I dig the “bonding through fear.” I’m 99% sure that’s why Walter loves me so much — I had to dogsit him five years ago when he was really new to the fam. That’s when we bonded (also I bought his love with fake dog-treat bacon).


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