It's a race to the start. Or, rather, it's four days of panic before we leave for a month-long trip to the US. For those of you planning to rob us, please arrange your break in with the cat-and-housesitter. If you do make it in, please take all of my Manboy's socks and that silly karaoke machine that he got "for us".
It's stressful for me right now. I don't feel it, but I never do feel stress. I just know that I'm stress because my zombie patches bloom. This week I am fortunate to have a quarter-size patch on my face. I'M SO FECKIN' HAPPY ABOUT THAT! No no no. Be calm. Relax. Big breaths. Waterfall sounds. Patchouli. No, wait. I hate patchouli. Lemon-scented myrtle. Calm. Happy Katy. Happy happy Katy. Contemplate the belly button.
I feel that everything is going at warp speed:
The most important task was getting the boys back to the Mothership for a month at Camp Coominya. Everything else is minor, even Fat Bastard. It's easier to find a sitter to come in to take care of him, but I wanted the dogs out in the country with their friends. Fat Bastard has no interest in playing with others, so his situation did not add to the stressful side of my to-do list.
The boys travel with their own beds, which are flung off balcony in the true classy style we are known for. Fabian won't go around the hall corner in our house to get to the front door, so we flung him off, too:
Saying good-bye to them is hard, but I know that they're in heaven for a long time. They've got buddies who have the same interests:
"You like carcass? We–Oh man. We so love carcass and the way it crunches and stuff and makes our poops firm so that our anal glands get a little squeeze. And does your mom crap herself in a spazmoid conniption when you sneak a little carcass in to monchmonch on the rug? Yeah. We love it when our mom craps herself. It makes her bum so pooey and lovely."
"And you've got cool, long green grass, too. Man, ours was just mowed. Blow and mow rhyme for a reason, man. You can roll and roll and roll. You can also look over to the weak-ass tripod, who is too chicken to learn how to go downstairs. Has to be carried. Soft. Softer than a unicorn's farts, he's so soft."
Omo said good-bye gracefully, then he went back to playing with his main bitch, Jelly. Fabian was less cool with saying good-bye. He'll have a great time, but he doesn't like seeing his favourite lady leave.
I'll miss my boys, but I won't worry about them. Knowing that they're with a family who loves greyhounds (and JRTs) and have greyhound buddies, I can travel at ease. I know that I'll come back to happy hounds. Happy manky, skanky, dirty, stinky hounds. This is the wet season, and now that we're no longer in a drought, the wet season is back to being a wet wet season. I also know–and we all have to face this possibility–that if one of my boys dies, he would die happy. If that sounds morbid, I lost a hound to DIC the day after I got back from the US. After my active grief settled, I knew that Tamale died after three weeks of Camp Bliss at Brooke's.
Unfortunately, Persephone Buttercup doesn't have a place to go. She will be parked for a month. She'll even lose Berry Dude, the flat Berry Austin mascot. Whenever I'm in Texas, I try to make a stop at Berry Austin. It's not a franchise frozen yogurt place. Oh no no no. Berry Dude comes from an independent yogurt shop that not only has great frozen noms, but is decorated by donated "garbage" in the craziest mosaic around. They even have laminated I-Spy cards for you to play with. It's crazy. It's original. It's delish. It's very Austin. I'll be packing Berry Dude on our trip.
I don't know how often I'll post, hop, or read others' blogs. It's harder to do while travelling, especially since I do not have a US network. We'll see. I know I won't be blogging next Saturday. We'll be leaving New Orleans, where we'll see my cousin play basketball (or sit on the bench–he's a rookie), for Dallas, where we'll see the Pokes play the 'Skins. Who knows when we'll be where and for how long. I have a calendar somewhere. Planning is one thing; remembering what I planned is a whole 'nother bucket of carcasses.
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