One . . . Two . . . Three Barks You’re Out

2004-07-24
(I WROTE THIS YESTERDAY, BUT COULDN'T LOG IN TO POST IT!)

Sorry I didn’t get a chance to write yesterday. We were really busy moving all day. I’ll do more updating later, but I just had to share Tuesday night’s interesting little experience.

Tuesday afternoon, as I was driving home from work, I talked to Rachael who told me that her son, Ryan, was having his little league game that night and my grandparents and dad and stepmom would be there and would we like to come, too?

Anyway – so I ended up going – sans Chad because he was at his Aunt’s doing some computer work.

Right before I left I called Rachael and asked “Do you think I could bring Mr. B?”

Sure, she said – it’s a park after all.

So – I announced to Mr. B that he was going “bye bye” – to which he broke into a frenzied run throughout the house. It’s so funny how you know when they’re happy. I got the leash which excited him even more. His tongue was hanging out and he looked as if he were laughing.

So – we loaded up the Beetle and were on our way. I got there and took him for a little walk – I knew the excitement of the trip would make him need to do some “business.”

So – after our little walk, I approach my family, who are all sitting on those camp chairs – the ones that are canvas and metal – that you can buy at Walmart. I know these chairs to be the one’s with the weight limits on them. Each chair comes with a tag that boldly lists the MAXIMUM weight for the sitter. I also know that I don’t think they make one that will hold me up.

So – Rachael says – here I brought you a chair. I politely decline. Which of course sends my family into courses of “sit down” and “come on have a seat”. So I quietly say, well – these chairs won’t hold me. I’m sorry. Which of course begins the inspection of all the tags. My grandmother is saying, “Well your dad is sitting in one. You don’t weigh more than your DAD, do you?” I’m beginning to feel relatively sick at this point. My face is hot. So I quietly and calmly say, “Look people, I’m trying but I’m not there yet. This is why I’m working so hard on my weight.” The majority of my family is looking at me in disbelief- as if I don’t know what I weigh and they do. They’re still encouraging me to just take a seat and “try it”-

Uh no. I’m already embarrassed enough to have just told my family (though indirectly) that I weigh more than 250 pounds AND, in effect, more than my own father – but I’m not about to add insult to injury (or is it injury to insult) by collapsing a camp chair in front of a small crowd. NO thank you.

Then – before I can even begin to calm down, Mr. B goes NUTS. I turn and see that another dog has joined our midst. Mr. B does not like this. Damn me for not socializing him more as a puppy. He’s not just barking a little. He’s like a barking machine. A crazed barking machine. There are no pauses. He’s hysterical. Everyone is looking at me and I hear murmurs. Then I notice the little boys on the field are looking at me. The game appears to have momentarily stopped. Oh GOD!

Ok – would somebody remove the fat chick and her hysterical wiener?

I scoop up Mr. B who is still hysterical and thrashing about in my arms. “I’m just going to go” I tell my family.

“Oh no! Don’t go!” My dad asks me to give him the dog and he’ll get him to shut up.

No no – I say. I’m going to go – this was a bad idea.

So I leave. In shame and disgust.

Mr. B climbs happily into the Beetle, sprawls out on the front seat and promptly goes to sleep. Silly dog.

OH well.

So that’s the story of Tuesday. Pretty hilarious. And painful.

I’m still doing well with the weight though. The scale is almost back down to 23 pounds. I’m at 22 this morning.

Well more later.

7:49 a.m. ::
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