What A Day!

Mom and I can go a week without anything memorable to share then; boom, a gazillion writeable moments happen in less than 12 hours.

Today is move out of the old & into the new. As you might expect, Mom grumbles as she walks with a layer of heaviness dragging her limbs. My poor Mama has an internal dilemma; some of her luster for life lags when ripples become stagnant, yet she whines and moves with a sluggish burden when we pack to relocate.

Moms and I are on the same wavelength in is this regard. I like the routine of running the same roads fields and knowing the lake shoreline. I don’t get dunked by the pits in the lake when I’ve experienced them a couple of times. For a Mutt, routine is good. We like things we can count on, trust, look forward to.

BUT, all that sameness & comfort doesn’t make my heart pound with fear or accelerate with joyous abandon. My eyes can’t sparkle with mischief and wonder when I’ve been down the same path four times already this week. Plus, how’s a dog gonna learn anything new when the environment doesn’t change?

I’m not sure what happened today. By 10:00 a.m., we were ready to roll. The packing looked effortless. Mom walked untethered by weighted boots, plus not one whine escaped her lips.

Mom and I hopped in the car; our eyes met in the rearview mirror as we both asked: What just happened?” That was the dawn of an enjoyable day for Mom and a day of fear, chaos & uncomfortable heat for me.

Our first stop was the bank. Mom wanted to withdraw some money.

The name of the ‘bank’ was Whitehall Entertainment

The outside temperature was 75 degrees by 11:00. Mom popped open the length of the auto sunroof so I wouldn’t die of heat exhaustion, then she hopped out, slammed the door closed, and proceeded to gaily lightfoot it into the house of money.

An hour later, Mom reappeared. She briskly walks to the auto friction rubbing her arms as if she is trying to warm up. Warm UP?!

The fur coat I live in was damp with escaping heat. My eyes were dull, going into despondency, and I was bored.

The story concludes; the money palace was freezing inside. Plus, The casino wanted Mom to leave money for the experience of smelling like an ashtray, getting jittery from diet cokes, and wrist sprain from repeatedly hitting the button on the machine that was supposed to spit money into her palm.

I lived; Mom warmed up. Her cash flow was slightly lighter, but Moms giggled from the experience. Which I hear is priceless? Next stop: Gutner Hill campground in Montgomery, Alabama.

We flew into the park with Mom’s adrenalin blazon. Mom was in a speedy hurry mode. She had packages to drop at the post office, we both needed to pee, and Mom was starving.

Mom looked funny, hopping from foot to foot while the camp check-in guy was on a long-winded phone call, and then he couldn’t find Mom’s reservation.

I was impressed that Mom held it together, no verbal explosions or snide comments. I believe all the Amazon packages sitting in the corner with Mom’s name on them; waiting to be opened reminded her of Christmas morning. That calmed Mom. Too bad there wasn’t an inch of space available in the auto to haul those oversized heavy packages back to camp.

The guy finally hands Mom the reservation tickets and the nearest open post office address.

We scurried to our campsite. I find a tree to pee on while Mom disengages The Ivy & tosses stuff from the auto into camp.

Did Mom remember to pee? Nope, she did not, and yes, that will be an incredible issue in an hour.

Mom made a quick pit stop to load her packages into the auto; off we rushed to the post office.

Half an hour later, we squeal into the post office parking lot. As Mom gathers all the stuff she needs to send back to Minnesota, she has a heart to bladder conversation. “If you promise not to leak, I promise to empty every hour tomorrow.”

With arms laden with hard-sided books and books on CD, Mom leaped into the post office. The Exit was closest to the service desk, so Mom took it.

The postman looked at her and said, “the sign says exit.” Mom replied, “I’m from Minnesota, and I need to know which boxes to grab to send this (a birthday present) book speedy quick and the library CDs as cheap as they can go.”

Mr. Man grinned and said, “You have books, so I’m assuming you can read. Does that mean in Minnesota the word Exit actually means enter?”

Mom takes a deep breath while backtracking when Mr. post office man grins big and motions her forward while saying, “How would you know I cared if I didn’t give you a hard time?”

After that, it was all jokes and fun while boxes were filled, addressed, stamped, and sent on their way.

Mom stumbled toward the auto. Floundering was the only way she could walk, considering her bladder was tied up like a square knot.

The next intended stop was a nice sit-down steak restaurant with a bathroom. Mom headed out and, in her exuberance, hit the gas as we rounded the corner.

All of Mom’s precariously stacked gear and lots of useless junk came loose and fell on top of me! Then damn Fred, the e-bike fell over and pushed me up against the door. His handlebar threatened to take out a rib if I so much as took a deep breath. I think this was his feeble way of getting back at me for all the times I’ve tipped him over.

Mom is in the middle of traffic at a long, really long, red light and can’t do anything to help me. Had she known the precarious situation I was in, I think, God, I hope, she would have hopped out and helped right then and there- traffic be dammed.

 From her vantage point, she didn’t see the complete picture of my predicament, and because I’m such a “good dog,” I kept my whimpering to a minimum. The handlebar prodding my internal organs also helped to keep me quiet.

Finally, the light turns green; Mom floors it (will the woman EVER learn?), she spits across the freeway only to find there isn’t anywhere to pull over. She has to do a u-turn and sit at that monstrous light for another round of extreme anxiety.

Finally, Mom’s spirits lift as she spies an Aldi’s; she knows exactly where they keep the bathroom.

As we slam to an abrupt stop in the Aldi’s parking lot, My Mama tells her bladder she’ll extend the hourly pee commitment to two days if the clamp can stay in place another couple of minutes.

Mom about has a heart attack when she sees the mess lying on top of me & Fred pinning me into the door. The minute Mom opened the hatch; I was out. I muscled past Fred, jumped over Mom, and escaped. Mom loved me up a bit, apologized & gave me the honor of sitting in the driver’s seat while she righted the nightmare in the back.

Damn Fred wasn’t cooperating. Mom pushed, lifted, then let loose a squeal when Fred knocked her in the head and forced her back onto the floor.

A lady nearby, all Mom’s knight-in-shining-armor people tend to wear panties, heard the squeal, stepped over all the crap Mom had littering the parking lot to disengage Mom from Fred.

After Mom got me back on my bed & everything from the parking lot back into the auto, she raced as fast as a woman can waddle while holding thighs iron gripped together into Aldi’s bathroom. With a tremendous sigh of relief, all was well in Mom’s world again.

Aldie’s is Mom’s happy place. She loves that the workers are friendly and helpful, the food colorfully displayed, the store clean with unique items to try, and all at an affordable cost. Good thing everything is priced right; you wouldn’t believe all the stuff My Mama bought cuz she was starving.

After shopping, Mom decided she didn’t want a steak dinner or make food when we got home, yet, she wanted something quick, easy, and Now.

We were on a busy main street in a bustling town that held all the chain shops that dot the landscape across America’s roadways.

An Arby’s caught Mom’s eye. There were lines a mile long circling all the fast-food joints in the surrounding blocks, except Arby’s! Mom pulls into Arby’s.

I strongly suggest that this might not be the best decision, and Mom might want to contemplate why NO One is in line at Arby’s. I ask her if she wants to sleep or spend her night hugging the porcelain throne?

Mom was tired, hungry, and wanted roast beef. My Mama is irrational at times; I simply saved my breath and shut up.

We have been at Gutner Hill campground for less than 24 hours, and I have two more stories to tell! Those will all come with lots of pictures.


Luv, Otis

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