the rodeo clown vs. the possum

While I should be writing posts about my fail of an m training for Oz thus far, given my limited time and a better topic, I'm not going to. Instead, I sure am going to subject you to my blatherings as that DOG LADY. The one who tells stories about her dog. And her never ending week from hell. Insert overly dramatic sigh here. Giddyup blahgesphere.

So. The thing is, between work, teaching every weeknight for the next two weeks, and the fact that Edder is currently working equally ridiculous hours, I am managing m training... I think. Barely. SO that post shall come soon. Our house is one big bag of chuckles right now. Needless to say by 10p all we want to do is get a drink and sit on the couch to stare at the ceiling for exactly six minutes before going to bed. We are also exciting. I could whine further, but I will not.

Last night, the drinking and couch sitting activity was rudely interrupted by our dog Milo freaking out with angry barking/growling. More so than usual. Despite our better judgement, we decided to let him out to go "get it." Whatever "it" was, we assumed a harmless bunny or a confused squirrel. Oh no. Let me offer you the condensed version. After five minutes of violent barking and growling and scuffling, Edder forcing the mystery meat out of the bushes (lord knows how, i don't want to know), a chase into the backyard and our open garage, I land at the back door. Safely inside to watch in horror as my dog drags a gigantic possum that is clinging for dear life to a detached lawn mower bag out into the driveway. Where he proceeds to shake it. Until it appears dead. Condensed version. It was all much more horrifying in real life. SHIVER.

After Milo was satisfied his work with the possum was done, while still highly disturbed, I could stop being embarrassed that we were THOSE people on the block. The ones who let their dog out to cause a ruckus (what? i'm a kansan, i can say that without ridicule) at 10:30 at night. Edder managed to get Milo back inside and we instantly notice a fairly deep gash on his left cheek. A gash that no home remedy could fix.

The point to the story is this. After a late night trip to the doggie ER, having Milo put under, three stitches and a 5a trip back to the ER Vet to pick him up. Milo is one proud boy. Edder and I however, are tired. But we choose to find the hilarity in all of it, the timing, the expense, the inconvenience and the sheer stupidity on our part of letting our dog "get it." And we are now left with a dog that looks similar to a rodeo clown. And squeaks like a hinge for sympathy.

I present to you. The Rodeo Clown, Milo. A series:

*at the ER vet waiting to be seen. he is still very amped up and very proud of his 'killing' with his fresh wound as proof.*

*right after he got home, he jumped in bed and we let him because we felt sorry for him. these are his stitches. he is really good at looking pitiful, no?*

*sporting his pretty pink IV bandage in a blissful drugged up state*

*more of said blissful drugged up state, at this point it was just amusing and i'm being mean taking advantage of it. please note the tongue. it's a very rough life.*

*the proud rodeo clown, thanks to his shaved cheek, in a rounded shape. and this rodeo clown sure did kill him a possum!*