01 02 03 Erynn's Blog: Being a Good Steward and the Pit of Despair 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

Being a Good Steward and the Pit of Despair

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If you are looking forward to the weekend, then you might want to skip reading the beginning of this blog post because I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE WEEKEND TO BE OVER!!!

Okay. I'll try to calm myself down now. I read on my favorite weekly pregnancy info website thing (www.similac.com) that this week I could be experiencing a racing heart or shortness of breath because of the extra blood my body is pumping. So, I guess I will try not to add to the stress that is already on my heart by jumping up and down at how close Monday is.

I had grand plans for today. Today was going to be the day that I became a good steward of our finances by taking Kody to one of those low-cost shot clinics because someone is in need of a rabies shot (and no, it's not me - the extra saliva I'm producing is also said to be a pregnancy symptom).

The cheapest clinic is, of course, 45 minutes away on the far opposite side of the city and it's only open every other Friday from 8am to noon. So, I'm thinking practically and with my new-found good-stewardship-ness and decide that it would be better to wait until 9:15 or 9:30 to leave so that I'm not stuck in the middle of rush hour traffic trying to get there and waste a tank of gas.

So, I leave at 9:30. On the dot. Or maybe 15 minutes past the dot because I got distracted when I was finding clothes to wear today and started planning what I would wear to the Christian Writers Guild conference.

Anyway. I get Kody and me and his shot file and my purse and my phone and the Valentines that Jon forgot for his class that he needs by noon and two leashes (because one has a frayed handle and the other is one of those mechanical zippy ones that I don't like) into my what-seems-to-be-shrinking Mustang and we set off.

Traffic is nearly non-existent and I'm happily high-fiving myself as we drive over because this is all working out exactly as I had intended. I'll drive over, Kody will get his cheap shots, I'll drive back to this side of town and give Jon his Valentines and then I will go have a nice lunch of leftovers and perhaps one of those Drumstick ice cream cones that are so addicting.

I pull onto the street for the clinic and here's what I see: CARS. Lined on both sides of the street, half a mile each way. Miraculously, I find a parking place within a block of the building and me, Kody, the shot file, the mechanical leash (the frayed handle one was stuck in the seat), purse and phone all set off toward the clinic.

There are dogs and people. Everywhere. Sitting on the curb, sitting on the sidewalk, sitting on a few chairs scattered around. I force Kody and myself into the clinic door to get a number and then drag Kody back out of there since a HUGE German Shepherd apparently was mistaking Kody's confused look for a threat. We're number 67 and looking around, I'm definitely thinking I see more than 67 dogs already here. It's already 10:15 and with my 45 minute drive back to our side of town, I can wait an hour before I'm going to need to leave and meet Jon with his Valentines.

So, we found a nice place to stand and wait. And wait and stand. And sit. And wait. There are puppies and people and mean dogs everywhere and Kody is just looking around at everyone like, "Wait, who are you? Where am I? Why have they done this to me?" There's a dog in the clinic who is baying like a dog-version of Wesley on The Princess Bride in that part when he's getting tortured to death in the Pit of Despair. Which of course is when Kody looks at me, at the shot record and immediately starts whimpering.

We've raised a brave dog.

Right then is when one of the ladies who works there forces her way out the door and nearly steps on a pup whose ears are bigger than it's head. "Number 17!!!" she yells.

I think that's when I started questioning the brilliance of this idea. But I decide to wait a bit longer. After all, someone said they seemed to be calling the numbers quickly.

At this point, about seven people standing in close proximity to me light up seven cigarettes. Through the cloud of smoke, a man a few feet away is telling a lady next to him about how he used to breed pit bulls for fighting but now he's on medication and he's stopped doing that now. And the dog wailing in the clinic is just getting louder and louder and Kody is just looking sadder and sadder.

Forty-five minutes drag by and then the lady appears yet again. "Number 21!"

Which is when Kody and I left. I text Jon and tell him that I will be there with the Valentines as soon as I can and he calls me. "Actually, I don't think I need them anymore, but thanks honey."

I look at Kody, who is lounging in the passenger seat all smiley because he didn't have to go into the Pit of Despair and decide that he's been a good boy today. So, Kody and I go to his favorite place. PetsMart. He needed food and he likes checking out there because the checkout ladies always check him out. So, he goes and shows off and sits and acts like he's not crazy and they always fawn over him and give him doggy treats. He really is a big flirt - particularly when there are treats around.

And then there was nothing else to do except come home and eat one of the Drumstick ice cream cones calling my name in the freezer. Because I've been a good girl today too. And I even called around and found another shot clinic that is on Sunday.

I will be a good steward even if it kills me.

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