Sunday Afternoon Saga
Aug. 1st, 2006 07:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shapeofthingsWhat an evening! On Sunday afternoon Alex and I decided it would be nice to pack the neighbours dogs into the ute (pick-up) and take them out to the bay. We're taking the ute back on Friday, so this was our last opportunity (and we'd never take them in my little red car, especially as Jessie's an excited piddler). These two aren't exactly small puppies: Sam's a fuzzy Border Collie x Samoyed with a severe case of doggy ADHD, and his pal Jessie is a mongrel with a hefty dose of Great Dane. Never the less, come 4 o'clock Alex collected the mutts and we loaded them onto the back of the ute, climbing onto the tray ourselves to encourage them to jump on. Once they were both on I climbed of the tray to tie them on. Left foot down, taking the weight while right leg swings around, and *crash*! My gammy knee collapses and takes me with it, into the gutter, landing heavily on my left wrist. Fuckin' ow! Still, nothing too unusual for anyone lacking in the crucient ligament department, so I send Alex off for pain killer and ice packs, pulled myself out of the gutter (only literally, not mentally), and eventually we got under way.
It was the first time the dogs had been on a ute, so we were a bit worried about how they'd go. We kept an eye on them the whole way, and although they were a bit nervous at first they soon got the hang of it and we all made it to Nudgee Beach in tact, not even a dribble of piddle in the tray. Excellent! So we spend the next hour on the sand flats, Alex and the dogs running about, and me hobbling after them, camera in hand. The mutts absolutely loved it! When they finally made it all the way out to the water, Jessie went mental, running about in the water, chasing the waves. Neither of them wanted to come when we called them, but it was almost dark and we needed to get back home. So reluctantly we walked back to the car park, towelled the dogs off and loaded them on.
Here was our first sign of trouble. Jesse had a bit of a widdle as she was tied on. So we double checked the leads on both of them and made extra sure they were short enough that niether dog could get into trouble. Nice theory... About 500 metres down the road, we're taking a corner nice and gently when Alex suddenly brakes and I see a rather large black dog pass my window. Oh my god! Somehow she's managed to jump! She's just so big and tall she must have been able to get her back legs over and the rest of her followed. Shit! Luckily, she was tied by a halter, rather than a collar, so the clasp undid as soon as her weight hit it and she landed on her feet. Still, my worst nightmare had occurred - we'd almost strangled a dog off the back of a ute! Fuck! But Jess is ok, more or less. Whilst not physically injured further than a slightly grazed paw, she lost complete control of her bodily functions all over the road, and all through the tray. I have never encountered a smell worse than her doggy terror fluids, and I've been around a lot of dead things in my time. Eww.
So here we are, in a single cab ute, still 40 minutes from home via the Gateway Motorway, with a 40+kg dog that sure as hell isn't going back on the tray, and a fuzzy 30+kg dog who now doesn't want to be in the back either, because it now reeks. We h ave no choice; the great Dane cross is going to have to ride in the cab with us and we just have to hope there's no fluids left in her system, as if she does in the cab what she did in the back it was all over. And poor Sam was just going to have to stay on the back with that stink. So we tied him on extra short so there was no way in hell he could get his squat legs over the side and set off again, Alex driving, and me with a great big stinking dog on my lap. A great big wet, sandy stinking dog, with her elbow digging it's way painfully into my crotch.
Ok, it's only 40 minutes, it can't get any worse. And then we get onto the Gateway. In the dark. With trucks and semi-trailers rushing past. So Sam begins to freak out in the back. He can't see much in the dark and there's all this noise and wind and it must have been scary, so we pull over to let him calm down. And sit on the kerb on the Gateway for ten minutes waiting for a break in the traffic so we can actually get to the closest exit and get off. Finally we make it and slowly wind our way home through the quiet back streets. Then Jesse widdles on the seat. By this point I've given up and just laugh, but Alex was mortified! What could we do? At least it was normal doggy pee and not her earlier terror juices. So the rest of the way home, Alex drives in stony silence while I alternate between giggling, calming Jesse, and keeping a close eye on Sam, and eventually we make it home without any further mishaps. It took us an hour to get back, so it's now just gone 6:30pm and we have friends due at 7 for dinner. We're both wet and sandy and stink of wet dog and pee, and then there's the truck... Alex sends me up to shower and rest (I'm having trouble with the stairs thanks to my now wobbly knee) while he breaks the water restrictions, tackling the truck with a hose and a bottle of disinfectant concentrate.
Our guests arrive, and once he's had a good shower and a drink it's all ok and we're all laughing about it. We resort to take away as by now I can't twist my injured wrist or bare any weight with it, and my knee is bearing close resemblance to a very large grapefruit or a small melon. A few more drinks and good Asian food later, everyone's happy, especially me, as the alcohol has interacted with my pain killers (ibuprofen + codeine) quite beautifully. Eventually it was time for our guests to leave and Alex to head to bed (it's so nice not having to worry about bed times or going to work in the morning!). I stay up for another hour to sober up and enjoy the quiet dark, and head to bed at around midnight.
But wait, there's more! The drugs must have worn off, as getting myself ready for bed proved intensely painful. As a righty, it's surprising how much one uses one's left hand to clean one's teeth, brush and tie back long hair, and change into pyjamas. My wrist hurt so much I started to think it might be fractured, and my knee wasn't helping matter either. By the time I crawled into bed I'd begun to go into shock! Alex woke to me crying and shivering, and we decided I should go to hospital and get my arm checked out. So, with great trepidation, we go down and get into the ute. Huzzah! It's dry and it doesn't smell! Alex drives us to the Royal Women's (public) hospital, where we wait in accident and emergency for a very long time. Eventually someone comes to take me off to x-ray, and I get to be pushed around a hospital in a wheelchair whilst giggly-high off codeine. Wheee! X-rays are taken and I'm wheeled back to the waiting room to wait some more. It's about now that I notice my wrist is hurting a whole lot less than it was, and careful examination finds I have some motion back. My hand, however, is now absolutely huge! Swollen sumo hand is pretty funny, especially at 3am. By the time I finally get to see a doctor I'm feeling pretty sheepish as my arm no longer feels even remotely broken. A thorough examination confirms that it's only bruising and myself and my sprained wrist are sent home with instructions to take more pain killers and anti-inflammatories.
So at 4am we finally get home and head to bed for a long, long sleep. Alex took Monday off on account of only getting home 2 hours before he was due to start work and it's nice to have him home, helping his poor injured wife out. After a leisurely post-morning (hey, we woke up at noon), we decided to use the free time to run about and visit an eclectic selection of shops to purchase equipment for car repairing and furniture re-upholstoring. On the way home we decide to stop at the supermarket to buy some chips (crisps) as we've decided to cap off our day with beer and chips and generally being lazy. Hahahaha! We get our supplies and go. Alex is backing out of a difficult park and I'm juggling shopping on my knees when there's a sudden jolting crunch. Oh dear. We've run into a rather solid steel pole. A grey steel pole that's below the window level of the ute. At dusk. Grey + dusk = invisible. Pole > ute. Ute = loser. A nice new scrape mark runs along the driver's side of the front corner panel and door, accompanied by several decent dents. The side indicator has been decapitated. Whoops!
A quick phone call to Alex's parents and the matter is settled. His dad decides to sort it out with his insurance, and we're home safe and sound with all our purchases. There's cold beer in the fridge, and enough left-overs to call dinner. We pondered the merits of hiding from the world in bed for the rest of the week, but alas we have things to do and Alex has a job to keep. Still, so far today has been incident and injury free. Anyway, they say bad things always happen in threes, and they did. Three incidents in 24 hours, all involving my father-in-law's ute. But in the end all's well. No one, dog or man, is seriously hurt, no money has been lost, and I have all the excuses in the world to take the rest of the week easy. After all, I've got a sprained wrist and an injured knee to nurse! Codeine, stat!
It was the first time the dogs had been on a ute, so we were a bit worried about how they'd go. We kept an eye on them the whole way, and although they were a bit nervous at first they soon got the hang of it and we all made it to Nudgee Beach in tact, not even a dribble of piddle in the tray. Excellent! So we spend the next hour on the sand flats, Alex and the dogs running about, and me hobbling after them, camera in hand. The mutts absolutely loved it! When they finally made it all the way out to the water, Jessie went mental, running about in the water, chasing the waves. Neither of them wanted to come when we called them, but it was almost dark and we needed to get back home. So reluctantly we walked back to the car park, towelled the dogs off and loaded them on.
Here was our first sign of trouble. Jesse had a bit of a widdle as she was tied on. So we double checked the leads on both of them and made extra sure they were short enough that niether dog could get into trouble. Nice theory... About 500 metres down the road, we're taking a corner nice and gently when Alex suddenly brakes and I see a rather large black dog pass my window. Oh my god! Somehow she's managed to jump! She's just so big and tall she must have been able to get her back legs over and the rest of her followed. Shit! Luckily, she was tied by a halter, rather than a collar, so the clasp undid as soon as her weight hit it and she landed on her feet. Still, my worst nightmare had occurred - we'd almost strangled a dog off the back of a ute! Fuck! But Jess is ok, more or less. Whilst not physically injured further than a slightly grazed paw, she lost complete control of her bodily functions all over the road, and all through the tray. I have never encountered a smell worse than her doggy terror fluids, and I've been around a lot of dead things in my time. Eww.
So here we are, in a single cab ute, still 40 minutes from home via the Gateway Motorway, with a 40+kg dog that sure as hell isn't going back on the tray, and a fuzzy 30+kg dog who now doesn't want to be in the back either, because it now reeks. We h ave no choice; the great Dane cross is going to have to ride in the cab with us and we just have to hope there's no fluids left in her system, as if she does in the cab what she did in the back it was all over. And poor Sam was just going to have to stay on the back with that stink. So we tied him on extra short so there was no way in hell he could get his squat legs over the side and set off again, Alex driving, and me with a great big stinking dog on my lap. A great big wet, sandy stinking dog, with her elbow digging it's way painfully into my crotch.
Ok, it's only 40 minutes, it can't get any worse. And then we get onto the Gateway. In the dark. With trucks and semi-trailers rushing past. So Sam begins to freak out in the back. He can't see much in the dark and there's all this noise and wind and it must have been scary, so we pull over to let him calm down. And sit on the kerb on the Gateway for ten minutes waiting for a break in the traffic so we can actually get to the closest exit and get off. Finally we make it and slowly wind our way home through the quiet back streets. Then Jesse widdles on the seat. By this point I've given up and just laugh, but Alex was mortified! What could we do? At least it was normal doggy pee and not her earlier terror juices. So the rest of the way home, Alex drives in stony silence while I alternate between giggling, calming Jesse, and keeping a close eye on Sam, and eventually we make it home without any further mishaps. It took us an hour to get back, so it's now just gone 6:30pm and we have friends due at 7 for dinner. We're both wet and sandy and stink of wet dog and pee, and then there's the truck... Alex sends me up to shower and rest (I'm having trouble with the stairs thanks to my now wobbly knee) while he breaks the water restrictions, tackling the truck with a hose and a bottle of disinfectant concentrate.
Our guests arrive, and once he's had a good shower and a drink it's all ok and we're all laughing about it. We resort to take away as by now I can't twist my injured wrist or bare any weight with it, and my knee is bearing close resemblance to a very large grapefruit or a small melon. A few more drinks and good Asian food later, everyone's happy, especially me, as the alcohol has interacted with my pain killers (ibuprofen + codeine) quite beautifully. Eventually it was time for our guests to leave and Alex to head to bed (it's so nice not having to worry about bed times or going to work in the morning!). I stay up for another hour to sober up and enjoy the quiet dark, and head to bed at around midnight.
But wait, there's more! The drugs must have worn off, as getting myself ready for bed proved intensely painful. As a righty, it's surprising how much one uses one's left hand to clean one's teeth, brush and tie back long hair, and change into pyjamas. My wrist hurt so much I started to think it might be fractured, and my knee wasn't helping matter either. By the time I crawled into bed I'd begun to go into shock! Alex woke to me crying and shivering, and we decided I should go to hospital and get my arm checked out. So, with great trepidation, we go down and get into the ute. Huzzah! It's dry and it doesn't smell! Alex drives us to the Royal Women's (public) hospital, where we wait in accident and emergency for a very long time. Eventually someone comes to take me off to x-ray, and I get to be pushed around a hospital in a wheelchair whilst giggly-high off codeine. Wheee! X-rays are taken and I'm wheeled back to the waiting room to wait some more. It's about now that I notice my wrist is hurting a whole lot less than it was, and careful examination finds I have some motion back. My hand, however, is now absolutely huge! Swollen sumo hand is pretty funny, especially at 3am. By the time I finally get to see a doctor I'm feeling pretty sheepish as my arm no longer feels even remotely broken. A thorough examination confirms that it's only bruising and myself and my sprained wrist are sent home with instructions to take more pain killers and anti-inflammatories.
So at 4am we finally get home and head to bed for a long, long sleep. Alex took Monday off on account of only getting home 2 hours before he was due to start work and it's nice to have him home, helping his poor injured wife out. After a leisurely post-morning (hey, we woke up at noon), we decided to use the free time to run about and visit an eclectic selection of shops to purchase equipment for car repairing and furniture re-upholstoring. On the way home we decide to stop at the supermarket to buy some chips (crisps) as we've decided to cap off our day with beer and chips and generally being lazy. Hahahaha! We get our supplies and go. Alex is backing out of a difficult park and I'm juggling shopping on my knees when there's a sudden jolting crunch. Oh dear. We've run into a rather solid steel pole. A grey steel pole that's below the window level of the ute. At dusk. Grey + dusk = invisible. Pole > ute. Ute = loser. A nice new scrape mark runs along the driver's side of the front corner panel and door, accompanied by several decent dents. The side indicator has been decapitated. Whoops!
A quick phone call to Alex's parents and the matter is settled. His dad decides to sort it out with his insurance, and we're home safe and sound with all our purchases. There's cold beer in the fridge, and enough left-overs to call dinner. We pondered the merits of hiding from the world in bed for the rest of the week, but alas we have things to do and Alex has a job to keep. Still, so far today has been incident and injury free. Anyway, they say bad things always happen in threes, and they did. Three incidents in 24 hours, all involving my father-in-law's ute. But in the end all's well. No one, dog or man, is seriously hurt, no money has been lost, and I have all the excuses in the world to take the rest of the week easy. After all, I've got a sprained wrist and an injured knee to nurse! Codeine, stat!
