In and Out...

Of the Doghouse!

Of course, my doghouses - kennels - are better living spaces than a lot of folks have in third world countries... but I digress.

It seems that those flu bugs love me. The stomach thing and the upper respiratory thing got together and attacked me at the same time - AGAIN! I was doing just fine and then WHAM! Naturally, the giant squid morphed into medic mode and became overbearing...

After a day of (slightly) high fever, he dragged me to the base clinic ER to see a doctor who was totally clueless why other medics, upon seeing me dragged in the door, immediately signed transfer papers for outer Mongolia and/or were violently ill and had to leave.

There is an outer Mongolia, right?

I could tell he was ready to write an Rx for antibiotics, give the "take 2 aspirin, drink lots of fluids and call me in the morning" speech. Then he spotted Cowboy's stripes. Senior ranked Neanderthals make lesser ranked Cro-Magnum males a little nervous. He decided he needed to do a series of tests "just to be sure" and said he was admitting me to the hospital for an overnight - and possibly longer - stay.

My giant Neanderthal nodded agreement.

I was the epitome of sainthood! I said nothing but noted the medic's name, rank and asked his blood type.

"Sar..."

Tsk

"Why do you want to know my blood type?" Dr. Clueless wanted to know while nurses snickered behind his back.

"In case you need a donor," I smiled.

"Sar..."

Tsk

They weren't doing anything to me that night so when Cowboy went home to take care of the animals, I watched TV in the nurses' lounge and then played on their computer. The nurses love me; I always send snacks whenever I've been in their domain.

The next morning Cowboy called to say he had to go out of town. He had this trip planned but he got a phone call telling him he needed to be there earlier than expected.

Oh JOY!

I immediately dressed, walked out of the hospital, waved goodbye to the nurses who were laughing and caught a ride back to my neck of the woods. Got dropped off a few miles from home and because it was raining, I decided not to jog the rest of the way and called a neighbor who was happy to pick me up because she knew I'd take her out for brunch.

See how healthy I was! I didn't jog in the rain. Believe me, the temptation was great.

Cowboy called my cell phone and asked how I was.

"Just ducky."

"You okay, bambina?"

For now.

"Yep."

"You didn't hurt the doc, did you?"

"Nope, didn't lay a hand on him."

"Ahhhhh, now I know you really aren't feeling well," he said so solemnly.

Double tsk

The pups and I had a mac and cheese orgy and extra thick milkshakes for supper. It rained all day and I dragged a sleeping bag downstairs and made a fire and my pups and I snuggled in front of it.

It was a quiet and cozy evening until...

"Where the hell are you?" were the first words Cowboy said when I answered the phone.

Tsk

I don't talk to people who are rude or loud on the phone so I hung up.

He called back and in a much softer tone, said "Where the hell are you?"

Tsk - still rude so I hung up and turned my cell phone off.

He called back on the house phone.

"Don't you dare hang up on me!"

I dare.

We played telephone until he called, spoke softly, apologized for his rudeness and then quietly informed me that he called the doctor to learn the results of the tests, discovered I wasn't there etc. He continued in that soft tone and promised a very warm greeting when he returned...

I figured I had 4 days to play or 2 days to plan my escape. Belgium or Switzerland? Both have great sources of chocolate. I knew that wasn't going to work so I stayed home and made great meals. The pups and I ate LARGE - lots of steak and cheesecake and cracker jacks and Twinkies - my cure for whatever ails me. BullyBoy discovered Sam Adams beer and now he doesn't want to drink Budweiser. SweetPea concentrated on Cowboy's port. I have raised spoiled canines.

Giant squid showed up in the wee hours on Super Bowl day. Got a swat, a big hug and smooch, another swat and was informed a bunch of guys were coming over to watch the game.

Dogs and cats stole snacks from the various platters every time the guys jumped up to cheer or boo at a football thingmajig happening on the screen. I simply cannot get excited about grown men playing with footballs when there are so many other things they could be doing...

It's February! I'm feeling 100% perfect. Cowboy has not forgotten how important February is in our house and has delivered the goods - chocolate, lovin, more chocolate, more lovin and the occasional swat. If he keeps this routine going, I might break down and make something peachy.

~Sar~