What does a toenail, a car battery, and an expensive vet bill all have in common? Well, friends, that’s exactly what my husband got for the celebration of his birth this year.
Before we had kids, birthdays were a really big deal for the two of us. Now our birthdays are celebrated in between hockey and dance classes with a crappy cake from the grocery store. But this year would be different, I was going to plan a fabulous birthday dinner for my husband (read: get a babysitter and make reservations). But we know what happens to our best laid plans…
Five minutes before our babysitter was set to show up for my husband’s big birthday date night, I giggled that I was signing his birthday card with a broken crayon and was really feeling guilty that I couldn’t come up with a good gift for him. Eh, at least I had reservations to a fancy new restaurant and would make out with him after dinner. That would totally make up for my crayon scribbled card and lack of an inventive gift, right?
Just as I put the last xo on his card, I heard the running footsteps and the panicked cries of my son, “Mommy, come quick. Suggie is hurt!”
Racing downstairs, I ran every scenario over in my head. Maybe our old dog got into a fight with that creep poodle across the street, or maybe that Yorkie from three houses down finally got revenge for all the time Suggie pees in his yard. When I hit the bottom steps I found what can only be described as a horror movie: blood up and down the staircase. It could’ve been a scene from The Walking Dead (minus the zombies and Daryl)
Her toenails had gotten too long and when she was running up the stairs, one got caught in the carpet and………. *shivers*
You would think after having two kids and several undesirable situations with bodily fluids I could handle this from my dog, but then you would be totally wrong because I was feeling woozy and was going down for the count. My husband had an injured dog in his arms, was blocking kids from the bloody mess with his body, and used his foot to prop me up from sliding down the stairs. And they say men don’t multi-task.
Aaron carried a towel wrapped Suggie out to his car and I ran after them clutching tissues and credit cards knowing both would be put to good use at the after hours emergency vet. But I stalled when I opened the door to Aaron’s car.
There wasn’t a single goldfish cracker anywhere. How could anything we own not contain at least one goldfish cracker? At this point, I just assumed the kids shed the fish like skin.
“Babe!” Aaron barked from the back, “Let’s go!”
When I turned the key, the car sputtered and faltered.
I tried again. Sputter, sputter, sputter, silence.
The battery is dead. The battery in the freaking car is dead. Of course it is.
New plan: get into my car, spend a small fortune at the emergency vet, call AAA, spend another small fortune, drink LOTS of wine when we return home.
We handed over a sad injured dog and the emergency vet returned our gal to us looking like this:
I’ve heard that after a while dogs and their owners start to look alike. Here is Suggie all hopped up on pain meds. Oddly enough, this is exactly what I look like after drinking a bottle of wine!
While waiting for the AAA guy to install a new battery in the middle of the night, I helped myself to the wine I planned on sharing with Aaron. Because nothing says “I love you, birthday boy!” like your wife lulled to sleep on the couch after inhaling a half a bottle of pino grigo.
So this birthday celebration was an epic fail, but Suggie is on the mend, I’ve promised Aaron a do-over birthday, and to think, I was worried I wouldn’t have a gift for him. However, there are no returns on the black toe nail and car battery.