Groundhogs, Dog Farts, and Crapmobiles™; These are the Days of Our Lives

I had to take the dog back to the vet for a follow-up visit today. For most people, this would be a fairly routine task. Not for me.

We had to drive the Crapmobile™. My husband had offered to leave the good car for me today but silly me told him that we would be fine in the Crapmobile™. It was only 75 degrees. That shouldn't be so bad without air conditioning.

Except that the car had been sitting in the full afternoon sun and we couldn't roll the windows down more than a few inches for fear of the dog jumping out the window. Two complaining kids. One nervous dog. One frazzled old houswife. Add all that up and you get chaos on wheels.

The dog would not sit down or lay down. No, he stood in the back seat behind me drooling on my neck. Then he began to pass gas. I did mention that he was nervous, didn't I? So it's hot and smelly in the car. My neck is wet and most of it isn't sweat.

Suddenly, while traveling 50 MPH on the expressway, I had to slam on my brakes. A groundhog was crossing the street at a leisurely, death-defying pace. For some reason the dog did not go flying when I slammed on the brakes. This should have been a hint to me.

The vet's office is on the far south side of Springfield. My house is on the far north side of Springfield. It's a long drive under the circumstances.

We arrived only to find that I had dragged the dog's leash all the way there. That would explain why he would not sit or lay down. And why he did not go flying when I performed the emergency groundhog evasion procedure.

I've never had quite so many vet techs or other employees coming in and out of the exam room. I was even treated to three doctors instead of just one. They all wanted to see the crazy woman with that blog. It seems my vet's office ran across my blog and read my petsitter instructions, recognized the animals names, and kept on reading. I'm right famous round there now.

Meanwhile the kids were behaving like horse's asses.

Finally we escaped from the vet, once again facing a pay period of Ramen noodles and hot dogs thanks to the bill.

The Crapmobile™ was hotter than before. The dog began farting. I decided to turn the radio up and threaten to sing. The kids always stop being jerks in the car if I threaten to sing. It's either that or throw themselves from a moving vehicle.

Waiting at a red light, I said, "Let's act like retards!" I turned the music up further and began dancing in my seat, waving my arms, and doing the chicken jerk thing with my head. The kids followed my lead. The dog began barking. When the light changed to green I noticed that there had been a police officer behind us the entire time.