Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
09 September 2009
What a difference a day makes especially when it's almost a day before vacation strikes.
Doing the zombie walk of tunnel vision.
At the dog show, your mind goes to micro setting. Sort of like you are a Jr. Scientist microscope and your dog is a little slice of fingernail you put under it and you squint and stare and microview it until your brain just goes to a tunnel vision world that is tunneling down, deeper and deeper down, to the depths. Just like when the giant microscope would shrink you at Disneyland and the same guy that just talked you through the Haunted Mansion is introducing you to a water molecule.
And you're all obsessed with the most correct diagnosis of that fingernail and the cells, it has platelets and amoebas and little creatures with fangs in there and you cannot stop thinking about them. Little FANGS, I tell you. The amoeba's face looks like Keith Richards and he's trying to speak and GOOD GOD. How could there be that much to a dirty little slice of fingernail? Like your mind is FREAKING OUT because of the whole Keith Richards thing and can it cure AIDS or cancer or fungus and your skin is sort of crawling because you've been shrunk to the size of really, really small by the same guy that just prattled on about ghostly ghouls and so forth.
Dude. Am I still talking about the dog show?
Then, just like that, the dog show is over. You got normal dogs again that just want to go down to the beach and go to work and run around with a piece of god knows what is but it involves velcro and looks like it used to belong to a prosthetic device and do some tricks and leap up and down in the windowsill screaming at a plastic bag blowing down the street.
Hell, life is good! And come Thursday morning, it's going to get even better because, oh yeah. I'm going on vacation. I am counting down the minutes before we leave to go sit in a tiny house made out of a shipping container at the end of a long dirt road on an old sheep farm in 102 degree heat for 4 glorious days. I can count them on my fingernails. Just not going to stare down at them too close.
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4 comments:
Have a great time Captain! We will miss you-- if we're all rocking in the corner come Monday you'll know why...
Enjoy your chill time and the peace and quiet factor :-) Don't forget spray bottle for Mr. Whiney Pants' car time (oh the envy!)
Have a great vacation!
Love,Matilda
If this is from my Matilda and in my mom and dad's absence you have learned to type, I am very, very frightened.
Yes and thank you for the spray bottle reminder. What would I do without you!
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