I have never packed so much in my whole life, I swear, and I have done some moving in my time. There are probably many stories over the 2 months of packing (and packing and packing), but this one sticks out as a "memory", and was nearly one of the days that broke the camel's back.
So we have four dogs. Two of them are rescue Pit Bulls, each missing a leg due to gang related violence, a huge pony-puppy dog who simply will not stop growing (40 kg's at the tender age of 6 months and a vet who just shakes his head), and last but not least, my ageing Jack Russell who is the obvious queen.
So......amidst all the mayhem of packed and half-packed boxes, and rain, our dogs pick up tons of ticks. But I mean loads. I can pick off at least 10 in 10 seconds. Time to Frontline the pack. It's around 5pm.
I get the baby pitty first and we are up to our ears in toxic foul smelling liquid. We are both not happy. Phone rings. Risk poisoning and answer. It's the vet. They apparently have the other pitty there - someone dropped him off.
Next comes panic. Where is the pony-puppy?
Dressed like a migrant worker, stinking of Frontline, I beeline out the door and discover that some twit has left the gate open. Pony puppy is gone!
Jump in the car with a leash and a few choice words and miraculously find our pup, Abigail, in the road. Leap out the car and have a sudden flashback of this HUGE dog simply not co-operating with anything that looks remotely like a leash. Eish.
So there am I, parked in the middle of the road, standing outside of the car and wondering how on earth I am going to coax this big bladdy pooch into my car. And it's been raining. And there is mud everywhere. And there are potholes as big as jacuzzi's in the road, flooded with brown water. And then, of course, I start a traffic jam.
I eventually get a collar around Abigail and she lies down on her back. I pull, I yell, I cajole....and the traffic sits patiently behind my car. Abigail decides to make a break for it. I'm not letting go......and promptly get dragged straight into a muddy pothole by her. I am thinking that she will be pony-pie if my expensive leg rusts....
Memory is good to you, I think, because from the pothole to the time I got her into the back seat of my Merc - events evade me. And we're off to the vet to fetch BUSHKA - our pit bull.
While I'm in the vet getting Bush, Abigail won't sit still and the Merc's alarm goes on, and on, and on....and I am muddy and wet from top to toe....people there look at me funny but I really don't give a damn right now. Take a photo y'all, it lasts longer....
And we load Bush and we go home. The Jack Russell is eyeing out a strange fluffy black dog who has dared to venture onto our patio.
Then all hell breaks loose. They are a ball of snarling snapping madness, I can't get near them. Black fluff is everywhere. They move from inside the lounge onto the patio....throught the gate into the garden.
The parrot starts to scream : "WANNA COME OUT - WANNA COME OUT!!!!!"
I shall retire from today. I wash the dirt from my face and hands, and decide to brush my teeth just to feel a bit cleaner. The toothpaste falls off the brush and lands on my toe. I am done. Could I possibly have a worse day?
Oh, yes.....there's no wine.....
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