I know. What the hell is wrong with us, right? And we planned it this way. Well, not the disaster part. The other parts.
If you read the Philippines blog, you know we had this Outer Banks vacation planned for a long time. It was to compensate Joyce for having to be home with the dogs, without me, and for me to kick back and decompress. Of course I expected the Philippines trip to be hard, but not that hard, and I certainly hadn't planned on Nick's rather abrupt departure in my absence. I'm dealing with it. I'll be okay. Just glad I'm not any younger, is all.
For two days after I got home from that last trip, I was basically an emotional pile of goo. After two nights with no sleep and constant crying jags, Joyce said, "You want to cancel our vacation and stay home and get a dog instead?" And like an idiot (don't worry, it worked out eventually) I said, "No, I want to get a dog AND go on vacation, and the devil take the hindmost." If you are young, you will not recognize that saying. That's what Google is for.
So she said fine, dragged me out of bed and we went to the pound. This was the Saturday after the Thursday I got back, and we were scheduled to leave the following Friday for the beach, just to put things in perspective.
At the pound they had no small male dogs available. I love all dogs, but at our age and in our condition, and with a small dog door, we can't manage anybody over about 25 pounds, especially since there are three of them. Also, older dogs die sooner, and bigger dogs die younger. Not good. And we always adopt, we never buy a dog. There are so many dogs who need homes, I couldn't justify it. Besides, purebred dogs have genetic problems. Not like adopted dogs have NO problems, but there are certain problems that can be avoided with a nice little rescue mutt, so we always get one.
On to the Humane Society. They had exactly two males in the right size range. We took one home. Here he is.
His shelter name was Winter but we named him Theodore Cody, Theo for short. Theodore was Nick's middle name and Cody was the ancient dog we adopted earlier this year, and who died a couple of months later. He was a friend's dog, and we knew him all his life, and she got sick, and that's how all that happened. So we remember them both in Theo's names.
So Theo came home for about ten days, and then we dragged him off on a road trip. Not ideal, but we thought we'd had enough dog vacation experiences to handle it.
Well, guess who hates a car ride? He puked on the way home from the Humane Society, too, but we thought that was stress, nerves and excitement. It may very well have been, but long trips don't calm him down one iota, either. Three towels later, we made it to our first stop in Brunswick, Georgia.
And guess who hates motel noises? And guess who apparently can't do his business outside when stressed? Yes, you guessed them all. Luckily we travel with all kinds of cleaning agents and equipment. The rooms are probably cleaner when we leave than on arrival. He "slept" with me the first night, meaning neither of us slept, so Joyce had to drive the first shift the next day, and of course it poured. The only thing she hates worse than driving is driving in the rain.
But we got to Florence, South Carolina, in very good time, and went shopping in the Dollar Store for cheap towels. We always carry lots of dog towels, sheets and so on, but we were going through them like shit through a goose. And this dog, who spends the day throwing up, compensates by eating and shitting like a horse all night and the next day. And he only weighs 21 pounds! Yup, smaller than Nick was, and a few pounds larger than Stella and Ollie.
Anyway, that night I got Stella and Joyce got the boys, and the next day, I drove the early shift to the beach.