Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Glutton

Tycho the rabbit is taking a spa vacation at his vet's office while Husband and I visit Mara for Thanksgiving. Since he loathes being stuffed into his carrier and taken on the load and lurching bus (Tycho, not Husband, although I suspect he would resent such indignities being inflicted upon him as well), if the weather is conducive, I carry him the 17.5 blocks (nearly 1 mile). Although the vet reported at his last check up that Tycho weighs 12 lbs, 15 oz., when I put him in his carrier and haul his extremely furry ass up there, I am sure that he weighs closer to 954 lbs.

By the time we arrived at the vet's office this morning, Tycho was in full pissed off mode. When he's angry or scared, he sheds enormous amounts of white fur at an alarming rate. Thus I was covered in rabbit hair and sweating profusely from the effort it takes to carry him. My arm muscles were protesting loudly, and I was a bit shaky. Thank the hell god I decided not to go to the gym after I woke up. My legs were already sore from running yesterday.

After checking Tycho into Howliday Inn (OK, more like Symphony Vet Center, but how awesome is that book and Tycho is a white rabbit, even if he doesn't suck veggies dry), I stopped into the deli next door to get a drink. I was parched from the Herculean effort of lugging him around. So this is what I looked like as I left the deli: sweaty, red-face, covered with white fur, clutching a Diet 7Up in a shaky hand. With all the blood rushing in my ears, I swore I must've misheard the hip-hop guy who passed me on his way into the store.

"Hey lady. You look pretty," he mumbled.

"Huh? Wha?" I was confused. He looked at me, expecting that I would acknowledge his compliment, so I said, "Thank you," although I still wasn't sure if that was what he really said. He nodded. There's no accouting for taste, I tell you.

Since I hadn't punished myself enough, I headed a block over to Petco to pick up a bag of litter. I figured I should be prepared for Tycho's glorious homecoming on Monday morning. (He's probably going to have to deal with the bus.) As I heaved a 30 lb. sack over my shoulder, I thought about how much I deserve the Thanksgiving feast that I plan to indulge in at Mara's flat tomorrow. Mmmmm, cornbread! Sweet potatoes! Cranberry sauce! Definitely desserts galore! Now if only I'll be able to lift my arms to get the damn food into my mouth....

3 comments:

  1. you could always just lie face down on your plate like they seem to do for pie-eating contests.

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  2. I'm considering it, but don't want to offend the other guests. If it was just family that I was having Thanksgiving with, there's no doubt that the feedbag approach is the one for which I'd opt.

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  3. have you seen this shirt? scroll down to the second one, it made me think of you

    http://www.imperfectparent.com/mominatrix/shirts.php

    ReplyDelete