So I was planning to have a delightful weekend. Yes, I was. On Friday I was going out with ...friend, and on Saturday after a quick trip to the vet, Tallulah and I were going to the farm to hang out with Chris and Lilly, then I was going to meet ...friend's best friend, who I am supposed to think of a clever name for but once I have to be clever I never am, so all I can think to call her is ...friend's best friend, and try to stitch up your sides from laughing at my rapier wit, there.
Then on Sunday my pal Poochie and I were gonna have dunch, which stands for lunch at, like, 3:00 because your lazy ass doesn't wanna get out of bed too early.
So yeah. Weekend was looking good. Partayy. Rolling down the street smokin' endo, sippin' on gin and juice. Because apparently my weekend was gonna be spent in 1993.
(Dude, it's a Snoop Dog veeedeo. Need I say not safe for work? Or anywhere, really.) (I love me the Snoop Dog. Did you ever see his TV show, Doggie Fizzle Televizzle? It was the best show ever, Sopranos be damned.) (Ima add "izzle" to the end of everything from now onzzle.) (I realize I left out the "I." Am already bad at thizzle.)
Anyway, you know what? On Friday afternoon, as I was leaving work, right there on the street was my old pal Charlie, whom I adore.
Here he is, talking to everyone from work, as we all exclaimed merrily when we saw him. Charlie got laid off from that place the same day I did, and of course has bounced back, because he's Chas.
Anyway, my point is, I was all, What an auspicious start to my weekend! Wait. Does auspicious mean bad? Or just "it's a sign"? You know what I could do? Is look on Merriam-Wizzle.
I did see ...friend on Friday. We went to First Friday, which was convenient seeing as it WAS Friday, and I wonder how many time I can say "Friday." We looked for King Friday and then we fried all day. Fo' shizzle.
First Friday (I said it again), in case you don't have them, is where the shops downtown stay open and serve wine and cheezzle and there's live music on the street, as opposed to dead-people bands, which are rarely fun. Above see a quartet playing in a window at First Friday on Friday. I think it's a quartet. Who can remember? That was way back on Friday.
We also popped in to my friend Kit's vintage clothing store, where she was having a sale on everything polka-dotted. How bad do you love her dress and bracelet? How bad do you love Kitzzle?
So, yeah. It was all going well. And the next day I said, Come on, Tallulah. Let's go to the vet, my nizzle.
And that's when everything got stupid.
Because she was just there for her routine shots.
Marshall, Will and Holly. On a routine expedition. "Daddy, do something! Ahhhhhh!"
Honestly, what is wrong with my brain? Who can name that show that just popped in there?
Anyway, yes. Just in there for her routine shots, so she doesn't get all rabid Pit Bullizzle on our asses. "Is Tallulah doing okay in general?" asked the vet. "Oh!" I said, having almost forgotten. "She's got a bump on her side. Can you look at that?"
And 15 minutes later, the vet came back with the really shocking news that Talu's bump is cancer.
I mean, what the HELL. With my luck. WHAT.THE.HELL. I mean, I realize technically it's TALU's luck, but still. The cancer she has is common in dogs, and in most cases is curable. She has surgery to remove it on Friday (I got to say Friday again), and they will send it to pathology, which by the way they are ALSO doing when I have surgery in (wait for it) two Fridays, so really everyone around here is waiting for pathology results.
Yay.
So it is very likely Tallulah will be okay, but still. I've been calling her Brian's Song all weekend. My poor doggie. I took her to Chris and Lilly's farm as I had planned, but suddenly watching her play and frolic felt very Make-a-Wish.
SHE WILL BE FINE. She has to be FINE. Do you all hear me?
As upset as I was, there was no better place for me to be than on that farm. Because it's kind of my favorite place on earth. Baby horsizzle is getting big. And sassy.
And am certain I need to discuss with you how indifferent I was to the part where there are FIVE KITTENS right now.
"who hare lady? kitty skare."
Are you dying at how they look alike? If my dad were here, he'd say, "That Mendel. What a guy."
Dear dad, The mom looks just like the babies. Isn't that a miracle?
Dad is very science-y. He thoroughly enjoys when I get amazed by genetics. Genizzles.
Anyway. So, despite my traumatizedness, I carried on and went with ...friend to Durham to meet his best friend, not that he's never met his best friend before, as that would be pathetic. She had a Kentucky Derby party, and I honestly think that's the first time I've ever watched the Kentucky Derby, and who knew it'd be exciting? And six seconds long?
Then ...friend told me all about the OTHER horse races, and all about horse things, and I was all, Who are you? Why do you know horse things? Are you Almanzo Wilder?
And ...friend's best friend? Has five dogs and three cats. She is our people. You would all love her.
Here's one of her 959594 dogs, and guess her name. GUESS! It's Iris. I KNOW! And how cute is that dog? With her speckly earses?
I was kind of thinking of taking her. I mean, Ima be down a dog soon.
June. Going to hellizzle in a handizzle.
And speaking of which, I spent the entire morning lying with old Jenny from Love Story, petting her ears and kissing her dog haunches and basically driving that relatively aloof dog berserk. Guess who just wants to tie on her bandanna and get this cancer over with so mom will GET OFF HER?
But after my Terms of Endearment morning, I did get up with Poochie for dunch.
Who's my cute friend? Is it Poozizzle?
Ima let you guess who ordered the salad and who got the cheesy meatball hoagie.
So there you have it. M'dog gots cancer. Or can-sa, as they pronounce it in TinyTown. But I know my girl will be okay. Because God would never leave me with Edsel as the alpha dog. I mean, that doesn't even make sense. Lily would have to take over, for heaven's sake. You know? It ain't fittin'.
Oh and before I go, I did want to say:
Friday.
God I'm annoyizzle.
