Never have I ever… Been in a Mexican standoff with a three legged dog. Crap! Yes, my unfortunate nickname is Jaime, and I have now been in this situation. Actually, it’s worse than it appears, because the canine amputee was occupying the back seat of my car at the time. Yes, I spent an hour and a half in the freezing cold trying to get someone else’s dog out of the back of my car! Welcome to my life.
I suppose this sort of thing requires some of the backstory to make it believable if you don’t know me, so I shall try my damnedest to paint a picture of why this sort of shit happens to me. I mean, upon discussing things with a couple of people, I had to lead my new column with one of the easier tales of Jaime’s Misadventures. Ok, I’m starting to droll on a bit (also something those who know me can clue you in on), but remember through all of this: I’m a nice person, or that’s what I tell myself. Anyway, this all started with me wanting money and a family friend heading off on vacation and need someone to look after a few things. What I didn’t know was the apparent outpatient status of the family mutt who had decided to run out into a busy road after going for a run with his master. She had him off the leash hundreds of yards form the road, but, we’ll call him Kong, was hell bent on making his own way home. He won’t be running anymore after that idea, as he’s now missing a front leg!
My understanding of the duties initially were to look after her (fresh off some minor vascular surgery) octogenarian mother and godson who lived in the downstairs of their house, whilst dealing with any issues in Kong’s recovery. Ha ha, that’s what I had signed up for, but not what happened. In reality I was dealing with a crazy old woman, nursing a possibly dying dog, deadweight guy, and two workmen with a collective IQ barely breaking 100 who were to clean animal shit tainted insulation out of an attic. And, I had to do this whilst working from their dining room plus cleaning up after and feeding a cat. I fucking hate cats; one of my ex-girlfriends now has cats. I should mention, all of this information was sprung on me as I was receiving the keys to the house on the date of departure. You can’t exactly back out on something when there would be ramifications with the parental units, so fuck me (and not in the good way), they better pay well!
I now had to take Kong to the Vet twice for dressing changes and to see how the little beagle-mix was doing. Ok, fine, but due to a slight oversite with some paperwork, grandma had to ride along to sign the forms. Awesome! I would say my life had reached a new low, but that would be a massive lie. This was only a new low for the week. Wait, no, for that half of the weel; my bad. So, visit number one goes about as smoothly as can be expected, and two hours later I’ve got grandma and Kong back home in time for me to put out the work related fires, which had sprung up in my absence. Happy fucking Wednesday, Jaime! At least you’re getting paid for this. Oh, and I had to try bribing the damn dog with painkillers and treats to come down the steps and go do his business. He shat in the doorway after peeing on the doormat.
Thursday morning: I return to find a dog who has a wound oozing out of his fresh dressing. Of course, my other charge, who has to accompany me back to the Vet, is off to see one of her numerous doctors. Did I mention she drives? Yep, she’s out on the roads with poor vison, her walker, and a leg brace. I give the poor dog an extra painkiller, and call mommy with an update. Gee, this is going well, and granny isn’t back until lunchtime. So, I load her up into the backseat with the dog, and off we go! Vet vist number two in less than 24 hours, let’s see how this goes… Not well, obviously. You see, the little guy has developed what could be doggy MRSA, and they’re going to have to do a test plus put him on more antibiotics. Great, there goes my pay. So, after paying for the damn thing, Kong comes back out to the waiting area. He takes what looks like a death shit right in the middle of the room. FML; that was the biggest and stinkiest turd I’ve ever seen, not from a cow. But, I load up the old woman and beast into the back of my car, let the receptionist deal with the stinker, and off we go home. It’s now late afternoon; I’ve waisted the better part of my day. Lovely, Jaime’s such a happy boy right now, and the car says it’s -2 C. Fan-fucking-tastic! Now, I just have to get an octogenarian and a dog out of the car, and I can go home. Or so I thought…