Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Too many cogs, too many wheels...

So here I am, new house, new baby, new town, trying to get some sembelance of normalcy into my life by enjoying a relaxing day at home with the children, and maybe taking a small trip to Ellen's for lunch. It was a plan ill fated from the beginning.

Oliver was an upset baby today, not a happy baby. He was a crying, screaming, fussing, unhappy baby. Therefore the morning lacked the longed for relaxation. Doubly longed for as he was a fussy baby all night and I haven't seen the deep side of sleep in what feels like 50% of forever (as my mom would say.) To make things worse, every time I try to sleep in I am awoken by a. the baby b. Marlena or c. Lee, looking rather as though I am a bad person for sleeping in while he heads off to work. (It's okay, I look at him like he is a bad person when he is sleeping at night and I am up with Oliver, of course, he can't see me, so it has less effect.)

Anyway, the morning is spent attempting to console the inconsolable child. Then we all bundled into the car to go to Ellen's, where I spent two hours trying to console the inconsolable child. Our landlord was coming by to show the house to a visiting religious leader/friend of his, so I went home to let him in, while Marlena stayed at Ellen's.

But my day gets better...

Ellen called to say she was bringing Marlena home in a few minutes. After I hung up, the landlord arrived with his guest. While they were coming in the door, Bella got out. I had a hold of Andy, and was carrying the grousy baby, but Bella was sitting pleasantly by my side, like her well behaved self. While the landlord was coming in, she calmly got up and sauntered out the door before tearing hells bells for freedom.

So here I go, 20 pound baby in arm, racing in fitflops down the street yelling for Bella. (The fitflops really do work by the way, I am quite pleased with them.) She disappears, and my ragtag team of me, Oliver, landlord, and landlord's honored religious leader visiting from India go searching for her.

A random cabby tells me he hit her when she ran across the street, but that he had just began moving and didn't hit her hard. He points out the direction in which she ran. He spends a good 20 minutes trying to help me find her, in between frantic calls to his boss and assurances to me that he wasn't speeding. (I wasn't even wearing my "cross me and I'll sue you" t-shirt they gave out on graduation day!)

At this point I was terrified for my sweet Bella, who spends all day every day following me everywhere I go and is an integral part of my life. I went home to get my car, and my daughter, and we left to go find her. I called Lee, he headed home, and I began driving up and down streets in search of her.

Then I got a call from the landlord telling me she was home but hurt. Apparrently a nice man got her to cross the street while a cop blocked traffic and she limped in through the back door. I drove home, relaying the message to Lee on the way, and found my sweet dog, lying on the kitchen floor, with a bloody mangled paw. She looked up at me with eyes that said "make it better mommy" and collapsed in a heap at my feet.

I set the baby in his pack and play, laid out a blanket, coaxed her onto it, and gave her a bowl of water. Then I sat with her and petted her until Lee got back.

Lee raced her to the vet and, $600.00 later, she is now sitting at my feet with a cone around her head and a paw wrap. There is nothing broken, no internal bleeding, just a bloody mangled paw. (Sadly that $600.00 was our extra travel home money, so it is looking like just the visit in August and hopefully christmas. Also, Lee probably won't make it home for the wedding in August, so it will only be me and the children. Sigh.)

I feel like such a bad doggy mommy. I was holding onto the flight risk dog, Andy, and the baby, because Oliver screamed every time I set him down. Bella hasn't run off in years, so I didn't think it would be a problem. There were simply too many cogs squeaking on my wheel for me to handle, and hers is the one that fell off.

Sorry girl. I promise to slather your painkillers in peanut butter to make them more palatable.

4 comments:

Woman with a Hatchet said...

I'm so sorry to hear about Bella and your Rotten, Terrible, No-Good Day!

I want to call, but it's always 10 or 11 at night your time when I want to call. I'm sucking on the timing thing.

Scylla said...

I am still up then, please feel free to call.

Miss you!!

Mom said...

Poor Bella--and poor you! You get the award for all-around crappy Wednesday this week. And an extra brownie.
Love--

Amy York said...

Poor you guys! Hope your day gets better!

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