After a bit of a rocky start, yesterday turned out to be a fairly decent day. Causing someone I care about pain really puts me in a bad mood. These days, even causing pain to someone I don't particularly care about fails to give me the kind of temporary satisfying rush I used to enjoy. That sucks.
But, as I said, things started to look up, and at work I even earned myself a little bonus for an extra big sale which, to tell you the truth, happened mostly because I left the customer alone (in blatant and horrifying disregard of company policy). Nevertheless, the random minor success gave me an extra spring in my step, and I smiled all the way home until I opened the door to the kitchen and saw what looked to be the beginning of a crime scene on the floor.
Manny, the blind puggle, just gets really pissed off when I'm gone for more than a few hours. Apparently the company of Cal the handyman and Margaret the biweekly cleaning lady who doesn't really clean is no substitute for mom, the lady with the food. Margaret seems to know this, and has become Manny's accomplice, always leaving the pantry door slightly ajar when she departs. (Sometimes, I think all she does is come in, open the pantry door, whisper a hint in Manny's ear, and leave. Just based on the physical evidence anyway.) Manny can't locate a cookie when you place it directly under his nose -- I often have to tap his nostrils with it -- but he can sniff out an open pantry door from the other end of the house. Or maybe it's just dumb luck; maybe he's always banging face first into stationary walls hoping to find that one in the kitchen that moves, welcoming him into a world of culinary (and often toxic) delights. Pay dirt!
Yesterday, the first thing I saw was the broken pieces of some sort of package, the words "non-stick" screaming up at me from one of the chunks. I panicked, thinking he must have eaten the contents of a package of construction goop, filled with toxic chemicals, something Cal had brought in to touch up the family room walls. Upon closer examination, I realized it was the box from a roll of tin foil, serrated metal edge and all, sliced in half as if by a "Ginsu" knife (a "Shih tzu" knife?). It's amazing what Manny can do with a severe underbite. Personally, I would have gone for the chocolate, but Manny is not very bright, and clearly not very discerning.
After checking to be sure the serrated edge was all there and not somewhere deep within Manny's digestive tract cutting open his insides, I looked for the foil. No need to look far; I glanced to my left, toward the "butler's pantry," and saw the beginning of a path that had been carefully laid out by the unravelled tin. Sort of like a shiny, silvery yellow brick road, it made a straight shot through the front room, a clean wide turn toward the front hallway, then a hairpin turn toward the stairs, where the long sheet of glinting path ended abruptly midway up, the cardboard roller off to the side. I had to laugh. I imagined Manny as if on a treadmill, his little feet pushing against the rolled up end until the entire thing was completely unfurled. How he made the jump up the stairs I couldn't begin to fathom. What a pup.
Like any normal adult, I called my friend to see if she'd like to head to the local watering hole for a drink. She was game, and off we went, to celebrate, I suppose, making it through a day that had been a bit of a roller coaster ride. Over a glass of wine, we shared a bucket of tater tots. Fried stuff sure feels good on the way down. Hours later, not so much.
Usually, at night, I lie awake listening to the odd rumblings of Manny's insides as his canine enzymes break down lord knows what and his stomach churns to digest the indigestible. Last night, much to Manny's annoyance (I could tell by the way he kept batting away at his ears), my insides were the ones belting out a gurgling serenade. As the dissonant crescendo continued to keep us both awake, Manny finally hopped off the bed and peed, quite emphatically, on the floor.
He may be the stud I sleep with, but, as usual, payback's a bitch!
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