Lo, this is the actual Dunkin Donuts that appears so prominently in the story below. I took a picture of it while driving by one morning and nearly got in a wreck.
When my parents first arrived in mid-APRIL for what-would-become-the-neverending-of-2006-visit, I did not yet know then what I know now. Sure, I expected my father to spend 2 solid days sorting through the 900 Christian magazines/newsletters/catalogues/solicitations he has received at the house since his last visit. And I knew that he would quickly monopolise my laptop at all hours of the day, cursing at his inability to manipulate the mousepad which is naturally the computer's fault, not his. I was not surprised to see my mother rapidly descend into her habit of remaining seated in the same spot on the couch for days at a time and the wholesale consumption of anything remotely sweet in the house. The subsequent dusting of the entire house with tissues, half-completed crossword puzzles, and glasses of water was almost comforting to me, a loving reminder that I was once again. living. with. my parents. But never.
Never did I suspect that attempted murder was afoot.
Scene: We arrive home one night from a lovely dinner out. I am fully sated, a little tipsy, and more than ready to throw on my pajamas and hop into bed. I come in the front door with my mother following behind and, as I am crossing the room, I glance over at the Chinese coffee table where I notice that there is something underneath the table, like shredded-up paper napkins or something. This is Tallulah's not-so-secret hideout, where she is likely to bring and destroy something she has gotten ahold of that is not supposed to. So I say to my mother as I am headed towards my room, "Hey, it looks like Lu got into something," and I'm a little irritated, thinking that it is a discarded paper towel or something that my mother has left around, and I don't like Lu misbehaving. I reach my room and hear my mother say, "Oh no," in a way that lets me know: fuck shit.
Flash to me on my hands and knees picking up dog-chewed remnants of my mother's PRESCRIPTION MOTION SICKNESS MEDICATION blister pack that is almost entirely empty to the tune of about 13 or 14 pills. I look at Lu and she doesn't seem out of the ordinary, just maybe a little mellow. Like she is a little high. And a little tired. I look at my mother and she is looks at me as if to say, "What? I don't have pets. I never even think about this kind of stuff." So I call the animal poison control centre and finally they tell me that they have only had two cases of this kind of medicine ingestion ever and in one it was way less and the dog was fine and in the other the dog, uh, DIED.
So I'm driving to the 24-hour animal hospital at fucking 1am with the dog in the back, who seems a little like she is just catching on that we are probably not going to the park. My mother was like I'm coming with you and I hissed NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because my only consolation with the situation was that I could chain-smoke all the way there and all the way home. I see the vet, we talk, she pokes and prods Lu, I leave Lu there and drive home. I do, however, wake my mother up 5 hours later to go with me to pick the dog back up by 7am, lest they start charging a skillion dollars a minute in morning charges.
(Side story: when my mother was getting dressed, my father awoke briefly and said, "What's going on?" My mother explained that she and I were going to pick up the dog. He thought about this and then said why so early and my mother replied that they charge exponentially for additional time past 7am. And my father was quiet for a while and then my mother heard his voice rising from the pillow: "Worth every penny.")
Mum and I pick up Lu--apparently the only excitement is that she threw up once around 5am, a reaction to the charcoal pills administered to her to quell the effects of the poison. She's pretty out of it, though, so I get her into the back seat and start to drive us home. And my mother says, "Oh let's stop and get something to eat first." And I say, "Uh, well, I guess we can maybe do a drive-through or something, but clearly the priority is to get this animal home and settled." Which actually came out more like, "Um, ok."
So I point out a McDonald's that is across the street and my mother acts like I just suggested that she eat a piece of poo. So then she volunteers IHOP and I tell her there is no way that we are sitting in a restaurant when my just-pulled-back-from-teetering-on-the-brink-of-death dog is lying in the back seat of my car. And my mother rolls her eyes and says "Hunh!" all breathy, which means that I am being a total square and I really need to relax, man. Keep in mind that she has just paid approximately $300 for the hospital visit as punishment for almost killing my dog.
So we end up driving for a couple miles looking for something, and I'm just about to turn around when my mother bellows, "DUNKIN DONUTS!!!" And then proceeds to give me an order so extensive that I have to find a piece of paper to write it all down. The man working behind the counter actually has to help me carry it all to the car. So I get in and my mother is like, "Oh, let's just sit here and eat for a bit." And I am hungry, but I look at Lu and she is laying down and slowly looks up at me with watery, doleful eyes as if to say, is it almost over yet? So I take a swig of coffee and a bite of my croissant and begin to drive us out of the parking lot. And for the second time in less than twelve hours, I hear my mother say, "Oh no."
I stop the car and look back and Tallulah has vomited all over the back seat. And because she had been fed charcoal, the vomit is jet black and slimy. I nearly threw up. It was almost a Stand By Me-esque vomit extravaganza. My mother? Completely and utterly unfazed, continued to nibble on her doughnut and drink her juice. So I get Lu out of the car, clean up the back seat (sorry Big Lots parking lot), get towels back there--by this time, Lu is weak and leeeeaning against me for support, so I have to lift her back in the car. My mother? Eating, drinking. Ho hum.
I pull out of the lot and up to a traffic light and I hear the noise. The huck-huck-huck in the throat that lets me know that this is juuuuuuuuust before Lu is about to lose it again. So, with one foot on the brake and with one hand on the wheel, I grab a Dunkin Donuts bag and swivel around and god bless it if this dog doesn't spew every drop of black vomity goodness into that bag. I mean, not a spilled drop. Not one. Then the light turns green, and I turn towards home. I hand my Mum the bag and say, "Sorry about your fritter." And she says, "What?" And I say, "Oh, sorry about your bear claw." And my mother, who has shown NOT ONE IOTA of emotion, caring, empathy, or concern up to this point, howls:
When my parents first arrived in mid-APRIL for what-would-become-the-neverending-of-2006-visit, I did not yet know then what I know now. Sure, I expected my father to spend 2 solid days sorting through the 900 Christian magazines/newsletters/catalogues/solicitations he has received at the house since his last visit. And I knew that he would quickly monopolise my laptop at all hours of the day, cursing at his inability to manipulate the mousepad which is naturally the computer's fault, not his. I was not surprised to see my mother rapidly descend into her habit of remaining seated in the same spot on the couch for days at a time and the wholesale consumption of anything remotely sweet in the house. The subsequent dusting of the entire house with tissues, half-completed crossword puzzles, and glasses of water was almost comforting to me, a loving reminder that I was once again. living. with. my parents. But never.
Never did I suspect that attempted murder was afoot.
Scene: We arrive home one night from a lovely dinner out. I am fully sated, a little tipsy, and more than ready to throw on my pajamas and hop into bed. I come in the front door with my mother following behind and, as I am crossing the room, I glance over at the Chinese coffee table where I notice that there is something underneath the table, like shredded-up paper napkins or something. This is Tallulah's not-so-secret hideout, where she is likely to bring and destroy something she has gotten ahold of that is not supposed to. So I say to my mother as I am headed towards my room, "Hey, it looks like Lu got into something," and I'm a little irritated, thinking that it is a discarded paper towel or something that my mother has left around, and I don't like Lu misbehaving. I reach my room and hear my mother say, "Oh no," in a way that lets me know: fuck shit.
Flash to me on my hands and knees picking up dog-chewed remnants of my mother's PRESCRIPTION MOTION SICKNESS MEDICATION blister pack that is almost entirely empty to the tune of about 13 or 14 pills. I look at Lu and she doesn't seem out of the ordinary, just maybe a little mellow. Like she is a little high. And a little tired. I look at my mother and she is looks at me as if to say, "What? I don't have pets. I never even think about this kind of stuff." So I call the animal poison control centre and finally they tell me that they have only had two cases of this kind of medicine ingestion ever and in one it was way less and the dog was fine and in the other the dog, uh, DIED.
So I'm driving to the 24-hour animal hospital at fucking 1am with the dog in the back, who seems a little like she is just catching on that we are probably not going to the park. My mother was like I'm coming with you and I hissed NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because my only consolation with the situation was that I could chain-smoke all the way there and all the way home. I see the vet, we talk, she pokes and prods Lu, I leave Lu there and drive home. I do, however, wake my mother up 5 hours later to go with me to pick the dog back up by 7am, lest they start charging a skillion dollars a minute in morning charges.
(Side story: when my mother was getting dressed, my father awoke briefly and said, "What's going on?" My mother explained that she and I were going to pick up the dog. He thought about this and then said why so early and my mother replied that they charge exponentially for additional time past 7am. And my father was quiet for a while and then my mother heard his voice rising from the pillow: "Worth every penny.")
Mum and I pick up Lu--apparently the only excitement is that she threw up once around 5am, a reaction to the charcoal pills administered to her to quell the effects of the poison. She's pretty out of it, though, so I get her into the back seat and start to drive us home. And my mother says, "Oh let's stop and get something to eat first." And I say, "Uh, well, I guess we can maybe do a drive-through or something, but clearly the priority is to get this animal home and settled." Which actually came out more like, "Um, ok."
So I point out a McDonald's that is across the street and my mother acts like I just suggested that she eat a piece of poo. So then she volunteers IHOP and I tell her there is no way that we are sitting in a restaurant when my just-pulled-back-from-teetering-on-the-brink-of-death dog is lying in the back seat of my car. And my mother rolls her eyes and says "Hunh!" all breathy, which means that I am being a total square and I really need to relax, man. Keep in mind that she has just paid approximately $300 for the hospital visit as punishment for almost killing my dog.
So we end up driving for a couple miles looking for something, and I'm just about to turn around when my mother bellows, "DUNKIN DONUTS!!!" And then proceeds to give me an order so extensive that I have to find a piece of paper to write it all down. The man working behind the counter actually has to help me carry it all to the car. So I get in and my mother is like, "Oh, let's just sit here and eat for a bit." And I am hungry, but I look at Lu and she is laying down and slowly looks up at me with watery, doleful eyes as if to say, is it almost over yet? So I take a swig of coffee and a bite of my croissant and begin to drive us out of the parking lot. And for the second time in less than twelve hours, I hear my mother say, "Oh no."
I stop the car and look back and Tallulah has vomited all over the back seat. And because she had been fed charcoal, the vomit is jet black and slimy. I nearly threw up. It was almost a Stand By Me-esque vomit extravaganza. My mother? Completely and utterly unfazed, continued to nibble on her doughnut and drink her juice. So I get Lu out of the car, clean up the back seat (sorry Big Lots parking lot), get towels back there--by this time, Lu is weak and leeeeaning against me for support, so I have to lift her back in the car. My mother? Eating, drinking. Ho hum.
I pull out of the lot and up to a traffic light and I hear the noise. The huck-huck-huck in the throat that lets me know that this is juuuuuuuuust before Lu is about to lose it again. So, with one foot on the brake and with one hand on the wheel, I grab a Dunkin Donuts bag and swivel around and god bless it if this dog doesn't spew every drop of black vomity goodness into that bag. I mean, not a spilled drop. Not one. Then the light turns green, and I turn towards home. I hand my Mum the bag and say, "Sorry about your fritter." And she says, "What?" And I say, "Oh, sorry about your bear claw." And my mother, who has shown NOT ONE IOTA of emotion, caring, empathy, or concern up to this point, howls:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
As if she is starring in Sophie's Choice. As if portions of her body are being extracted out of her by force. As if falling down an interminable well of shame and regret.
When I point this out to her, she is quiet and seems a little embarassed. NOT, however, too embarrased to mention more than a few times before arriving home that (in a small voice), "It had just been so long since I had had one," and "I only got to have one bite."
1 comment:
Excellent story! Love love your doggie for understanding about throwing up in a bag. You'd NEVER get a relative to do that.
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