The Worst 24 Hours OF MY LIFE
Originally published January 4, 2013
Author’s Note: Diggy truly was miserable on this camping trip. We really did eventually just lock him in the car with heat blasting where he promptly fell asleep. And he really did walk around taking tiny, dramatic, mini steps in protest of wearing the jacket I fashioned for him (which I only did because he was being so pathetic!).
Last weekend I suffered through the worst 24 hours of my life. Never before have I struggled as I did that day. Never before have I been so frozen from pure horror. Never before have I realized that my mom, the person I love more than anyone and anything in the entire vast universe, could be so cruel. I wanted to share this experience immediately but you see, it has taken me an entire week to recover and to formulate the words to adequately describe my experience.
Last weekend, my mom and my mom's special friend took me camping in 40 degree weather.
Here is short-list of my favorite things:
1. My mom
2. Chewing socks
3. Rolling on stuff that smells bad
4. Sleeping really really late
5. Being EXTREMELY comfortable.
6. Being EXTREMELY warm.
So, with this in mind, let me describe my 24 hours in hell.
The day started off poorly. My mom woke me up at 6:30 in the morning, which was unacceptable (see number 4 on "the list). But I'll admit, as my mom and her special friend began to load all sorts of things into the car I became very curious. And then, she got my leash and what can I say, the inner dog in me just lost it- wherever they were going they were taking me with them!!! One moment I was exhausted and completely morose, then just like that I was on top of the world. Well, we drove for about an hour. I sat in the backseat amongst all sorts of hard, awful, uncomfortable things and after 40 minutes of fretting and fidgeting and trying to find something soft to lay on, I gave up - I just could not get comfortable, which I found very upsetting (see number 5 on "the list"). Surely, I thought, things would pick up. But oh how naive I was.
Exhausted. Trying to get comfy.
About 30 minutes later we pulled into what I'll describe as a clearing in a vast Arctic tundra. My mom and her special friend began to unload the car, they opened the door and a sudden, shocking blast of frigid air hit me square in the face. I recoiled in horror, this was not what I had signed up for, this was not why I agreed to move to Texas. My mom forced me out of the car and I stood there shaking uncontrollably. It must have been 50 degrees outside, I don't know how people live like that. I tried to follow my mom into the arctic clearing but I could barely move. She took out an underarmour shirt and fashioned what I can only imagine was a straight jacket for me, tying the arms around my doggy waist to hold it in place. While some canines enjoy dog outerwear, I truly loathe any form of clothing. I can be on top of the world, jumping out of my skin with happiness and the moment you put an article of clothing on me my entire body will seize up and I simply am unable to move. So you see, things were just getting worse. I tried to walk, despite the restrictions of a straight jacket and as time wore on (hours) I finally was able to adjust my gait to to look somewhat normal and I no longer had to hear my mom's special friend yelling "he's taking geisha sized steps."
My straight jacket
The hours wore on and on and on and it got colder and colder. Probably 45 degrees. At one point my mom wrapped me in a blanket in front of the fire but with my nose exposed I just couldn't warm up. It was terrible. Then finally, around 8 pm, after literally 10 hours of pure torture, my mom turned on the car, cranked the heat to 85, put a blanket in the back seat and locked me. Pure. Bliss.
That night, with the arctic winds raging and the skies pouring freezing cold rain - I managed to make it through (while swaddled in blankets).
In hell.