So, Lil’ Frankfurter is back at the vet. Or, as I’m coming to think of it, his day spa. He barfs and refuses to eat in the morning, so I take him in. Then, as soon as I leave, he’s all, “Why, yes! I’d love to eat!” And they dote on him and my tab climbs and climbs.
Basically, he won’t eat for me because I put pills in his food. The vet gives him the meds via injection, so Lil’ Frank’s sensitive palate can enjoy his luxurious prescription canned dog food.
The vet promised to cut me a deal on the injections. Frank is booked at the day spa again tomorrow. And yes, I know how to shove the pills down his throat, but this seems to be the path of least resistance. At this point, I just don’t want him to bite me again.
The people at the vet are sooooo nice. Like, ridiculously nice. Today, as I was dropping off the kidlet, the office manager said, “Cha Cha, I’m so sorry about your week. I know this is stressful.”
As I left, I realized that I haven’t cried all week.
That’s weird for me. I’m a crier. It’s a skill that’s been passed down from generation to generation. My mom and I typically cry in weird places like the floor of the bathroom, or in a laundry room. I’m also particularly adept at crying while driving because I think that people can’t see me.
The other day, I glanced in my rear-view mirror and saw that the woman in the car behind me was sobbing. So, it’s not just me. I wanted to pull over and hug her, but, well, that would shatter the illusion of being invisible.
Maybe I haven’t cried because I’ve never actually thought Lil’ Frank was going to die. Or maybe I’m too tired. I feel like I’m on autopilot. Maybe I’ll freak out later … later, when I’m eating Ramen for three months because all of my money went to the vet.
Or maybe I’m just a badass and everything is just fine and I’m just fine and it’s all just fine. Dammit.
I'm sorry I know you and Frank are having a rough week...but the title of your post made me laugh out loud! Again I'm totally sorry, and I hope that little Frank gets home soon so you can still afford a stiff one at the end of this!
ReplyDeleteIt will all be okay. You couldn't do it any differently - he's your baby, and it is just money. It will replenish, you will have all that you need. (repeat that last line over, and over!)
ReplyDeleteThen, once the little shit is better, book yourself a day spa.
I cry in the car too.
Hey, you don't have time to cry. Maybe when it is all over and Lil' Frank and Foxie are back to normal, you will have yourself a good cry. The last year of their lives, my dogs were up to 10 pills a day between them. I found that wrapping them in a little liverwurst or Velveeta cheese was the easiest way to get the pills in them. I had to mix it up because they would get tired of the same old thing. Eventually, I had to wrap the Velveeta in a little piece of ham to get the older one to eat it. The things we do for our pets.:) Hope everyone is on the mend soon.
ReplyDeleteYour title reminded me of my mom's favorite thing to yell at my sisters and I...YOU'RE GOING TO DRIVE ME TO DRINK! Hope Frank is better soon.
ReplyDeleteI agree with "Drawer Queen" Day Spa for you with much pampering and wine. And stat!
Oh, I'm so sorry Cha Cha... I really hope the little guy gets better soon (and that Foxie feels he can face the world again soon, too).
ReplyDeleteI'm not going to tell you to not worry about the money (worrying about money is my specialty party trick), but Frank is what matters most!
Hang in there!