Good Intentions Gone Awry

Yesterday:

Got up extra early to go for a power walk, but had to take Lovey, my "sister-dog," out to pee. Not a problem. She's been sleeping in my bed. After all, she is my mom and dad's dog, hence, my "sister-dog" so I'll watch her two weeks out of the year. It sure as heck beats owning a real live one for 365 days out of a year.

So, it's all good, I grab the leash and take her outside into the beautiful dewey morning.

Except it's not all good, because I get stung on the ankle by a bee.

I'm allergic to bees. The last time I was stung by a bee, I ended up with a steroid prescription, a couple of epi-pens for the future, and this published essay.

Go ahead, read it if you like. No really, READ IT!

I have since tossed the epi-pens, because they had expired. So, I get stung on my ankle, yesterday at 6:30 a.m., and think, "Oh, I'll be OK. If I'm going to asphyxiate, it'll take a while for the venom to motor its way up to my throat and lung area."

So, I go for my walk, but not before taking FOUR children's Benedryl. OK, so maybe four is a lot, but I figured it's CHILDREN'S Benedryl, and the directions said two-to-four tablets. Plus, they tasted good, even for the grape flavor, and don't get me started on why pharmaceutical companies even make grape-flavored stuff. What kid likes grape-flavored ANYTHING?

When I get home, I discover Lovey has peed AND pooped in two different spots in my house, on carpeting no less, and this does not make me happy. I clean it up, muttering under my breath, "Damn Dog." Her antics further reaffirm I am never getting one for our family.

Then, I take a shower and lie down for a minute, telling the kids I am tired and need to rest and that my ankle hurts cuz a big, bad, meany bee stung me.

Children's Benedryl R O C K S ! ! !

Two-and-a-half hours later, at like 10:30 there's Tukey again, my poor Tukey, settled on the edge of my bed, asking for breakfast. I'm seeing a pattern here.

I get the kids "breakunch" and we get through the day. I can't even remember what I did. Maybe laundry. Maybe ... maybe I really cannot remember what we did yesterday afternoon...

Oh wait.

It's all coming back to me. See it was such a crappy day I have tried to block it all from the memory.

Next up, I had to go to the eye doctor to get something extracted from my eye ball. Saturday night, when I got home, took out my contacts, and removed my eye makeup, it felt like a fleck of mascara was stuck in there. I rubbed it all through the night, woke up Sunday morning thinking, "Wow, maybe I should go to the ER," but then I put my contact back into my eye, and it didn't hurt anymore, almost like the contact helped to create a barrier between the injured inside of my eyelid and my eyeball. But, being the proactive gal that I am when it comes to my eyesight, and my health in general, I do make an appointment to see the eye doctor.

I drag the boys to the doctor with me. Diva stayed with a friend.

Two hours later... she extracts an eyelash that was growing in backwards or something, and I've got two cranky boys who have been punching and fighting each other in the lobby.

I'm yelling at them that "Damnit! We do fun stuff all the time. Do you think I wanted to sit at the eye doctor's for two hours! Do you want me to go BLIND!? Then how the heck would I drive you to all the fun places we go, huh? How would I be able to take you to the movies, the pool, the mall? HUH!? You think I enjoyed having a neurotic eye doctor poke and prod my eyeball, flip my eyelid all over the place and then jab it with tweezers?!"

Fun times, I tell ya. Fun times.

At least my eyesight is back to normal.

Back home, at the ranch, well what do you know? Lovey has puked in Diva's room. Chunky puke. I again mumble under my breath, "Damn dog," and I clean it all up. There's still a stain.

Now, it's time to take "sister-dog" Lovey out once more to pee. She ventures over to the side of the house, kind of where I was stung, and suddenly, yep, you guessed it...

Everybody, say it with me...

The dog gets stung multiple times in the face by a pack of bees.

Holy Beehive Batman. Apparently "sister-dog" Lovey had been digging and found a nest in the mulch, and she quite possibly was stung the day before, which may or may not have caused her to vomit. There were about, seriously, no lie, a couple hundred yellow jackets.

I ran to Target, and loaded up on the wasp spray and I tell you, the aftermath when I got through with those little buzzing demons, well, those suckers probably felt they had lost a pretty big war. No survivors.

I then jumped online and googled DOG BEE STING, and discovered dogs can also have Benedryl. And she didn't seem to mind the grape flavor either! So, that was my fun Bee adventure yesterday. My ankle is still swollen, it itches like crazy, and I will probably go to the doctor tomorrow for a steroid pack. But Lovey, well, she seems fine. I don't think she'll be digging in the mulch any time soon, though, that's for sure.

And yeah, while I'm not really a huge dog fan, she's a good dog, and my parents really, really dig her. Now that I think about it, I think they dig the dog more than they dig me! My mom called this morning to check to make sure I didn't have to take Lovey to the Vet ER. I just realized she didn't even ask how I was doing with the bee stings!

Moral of the story: You can EFF with the Manic, but don't EFF with "Sister-Dog" Lovey! Bee-cuz you'll Bee Sorry!!

Bzzzzz...