Horst came up first thing and asked me to drive him to Cox cable on Monday so he could pay his phone bill. He had payed it previously on a credit card and didn't have enough money on it to pay it this month.
If you read the Swiss Colony post a few months back, you would know that good ol' Horst has a bit of a spending problem.
Horst then proceeded to regale me with stories of people at work, updates on the weather and times that I would need to pick him up from the bus stop. I listened and nodded, while trying to make lunches and unload the dishwasher and get the kids ready for school. If I left the room, he would follow me around, still talking.
I fervently wished that he would just shut the fuck up and go back into the basement.
Because I had such angry thoughts about him, I offered to give him a ride to the bus stop. The whole ride down, I didn't bother turning on the radio because he kept up his constant commentary. I dropped him off with a cheerful goodbye and reminded him that he should call if he needed a ride home from the bus stop.
If I am extra special nice to you, it's usually a good indication that I really want to rip your head off.
I hate having mean thoughts like that about people, it makes for a crappy day.
And it has been a crappy week, with the snow storm and subsequent hell of snow removal, shitty drivers and a whole slew of endings that have come to my attention over this past week that have left me feeling sad and cranky. 3 involve death, 1 unmentionable because it's not my place to say and I completely forgot what the other ones were except that they sucked.
So I'm trying to break my funk, it's hard when I have a brain that is such a total asshole. A brain that tells me what I should do to feel better, then has me get extra tired so then I just sit there and beat myself up for not doing anything.
Fuck you brain, any more of this shit and you and the inner squirrel both get the hose.
So today I wanted to take moment to talk about my old, awesomest dog in the world because it is Ash Wednesday. my old dog Shaz was the Ash Wednesday puppy. I don't have any photos on my computer because she died before I got high tech, so here is a photo of the framed photo I keep on a set of drawers in my living room:
This picture had been missing and I finally dug it out from under the drawers and forgot the wipe off the dust and dog hair sticking to it before I took the picture-Gross
Yes, that is a fuzzy pink Barbie frame. I got it in a happy meal a million years ago while driving home from New Jersey. As soon as we got the frame from the cardboard box with the golden arches, we knew exactly what photo to put in it.
Yes I carried a photo of Shaz around in my wallet for a long time until it ended up in the frame. No, I typically don't carry photos around of my children.
Shaz was the best dog, I had her before I had any of my children. She was at both of my weddings. She went everywhere with me.
Right after B and I got married, she got hit by a car and I spent over two thousand dollars of my wedding money to fix her up. She had 4 really good years after that.
My sister in law's dog passed away this week and she was understandably crushed. Nala was her dog of dogs. It's hard, if not impossible to find as good a dog as that dog. They are once in a lifetime.
I still keep Shaz's collar and tags on my rearview mirror and always give it a jingle for luck. I still miss her.
The story of why she was referred to as the Ash Wednesday puppy happened on a February back in 1993-ish when I lived on Brewer St in Newport with a bunch of people.
During a drunken brew-ha-ha, a friend used a black marker to draw a cross between her eyes. Another friend coming by and seeing how my dog was desecrated, yelled at me for doing it (although I really had nothing to do with it).
The incident ended with another friend writing "FUCK YOU ________" on Shaz's flank in black marker. The friend, whose name was written on Shaz, then took her to his house for a bath. If only we had pictures of Shaz and the look on my friend's face when he saw what was written on her.
Priceless, I tell you.
After the friend and Shaz left, we had a lovely time making up stories about Shaz, the Ash Wednesday Puppy who would travel around with a plastic cup full of ashes to place sooty nose prints on the foreheads of the faithful every Ash Wednesday.
Shaz came back later that day. Her message of "Fuck you" to a particular person much faded. She went on to live for a total of 14 years with me. Best damn dog ever. Not like the dumb ass I'm saddled with now.
In my neighborhood, you know Gus got out of the yard and is running around when you hear me yell, "If you get hit by a car I'm putting your dumb ass to sleep!" at the top of my lungs. See what I'm saddled with.
So take a moment today to remember Shaz, The Ash Wednesday Puppy, if you knew her. If you still have your dog of all dogs living with you, give them a big hug in memory of Shaz and sweet Nala, best dogs ever.
If you are saddled with the burden of one of those "other" dogs, I'll be praying for you.
Here is a bonus picture of pretty, heavy snow that was a complete bitch to move around, but so pretty!
Happy Ash Wednesday! I'm thinking of giving up organized religion for Lent! How about you?