Bizarre rumors are sending me to hell.

I think the veterinary’s office ranks as the scariest, dirtiest, smelliest, mutant freak showiest place on earth, and not just for pets. Had to take my dog Zane there today. Esh. Now besides the occasional run-away and the sporadic trips to the park, mostly my dogs know to run out to the fenced in part of the yard when we open the back door… except when somebody’s got a leash. When there is a leash in sight all hell breaks loose. Zane cowers near the door, does a few twirls and looks up at you with a huge grin on his face. Lou jumps three feet high up in the air over and over again landing on top of the other two dogs. Abby walks over everyone and crams her nose in the crack of the door waiting for that instant when it opens. All the while I stand in the middle of this swirling jumble of dogs trying to think of a way to get just one of them out the door.

Plan: Leash Zane. Push his old self up to the door. Kick other dogs away. Push Zane out the open door while still kicking other two dogs away. Slam door behind myself. Take happy Zane to happy vet.

Reality: Leashed Zane. Pushed him towards the door and kicked the other two animals away. Opened door. Lou sprinted out and headed across the street. Abby ran out into the yard. Pushed Zane into the fenced in yard. Hauled Abby back into the house. Started running after evil beagle Lou. Two streets, one alley, a dozen houses, and a racing heartbeat later I had Lou by the neck. Am also running late.

Reality sucks.

After some shuffling I was able to get Zane into the Mazda.

Small stick shift car + big dog = fury figure half in passengers seat, half in drivers face and trying to eat chocolate granola bars out of the glove compartment.

I really should invest in one of those doggy seatbelts.

Minutes later and we arrive at the vets. Parking lot’s full and people are lining up on the street. The vet’s lobby is even worse. All the benches are taken, people are leaning up against the wall or sitting on the floor and there are lots of big, young, intimidating dogs. Zane is now hyperventilating and trying to hide between my legs. Nobody holds their animals close because they think they’re all nice sweet animals so cats and dogs just walk right up to poor old having-a-panic-attack- Zane and sniff at him. When one growls in his face Zane looks like he’s going to melt away.

It took about fifteen minutes but we were finally able to sign in. Instead of insanely waiting inside we went outside and sat in the parking lot on the back of the Mazda. Tick tock, tick tock, two hours later and we’re still waiting. We people watched and watched their pets too--dogs, roosters, goats, horses, cats, and a
baby pot bellied pig all went in and out or back and around. Finally, two and a half hours later, Dr. Carpenter (very nice lady, has perfect gray hair, but doesn’t look old) came out to get us.

I’ll skip all the icky poking and prodding and go straight for the diagnosis. Zane has cancer. Bahh. They need to get a chest X-ray to see if there are any tumors in his lungs before they can operate, but he's been around for a pretty long damn time, I'm not terribly sad yet.

100 most mispronounced words

I’m sorry, but I do say sherbert.

Bizarre rumor generator

And, oddly enough, this was the first thing that came up-

According to the New York Times, disgruntled God obligingly bet against the other Satanist chicken.

This one came a little later-
When Jesus was a little boy, the melon-headed lawmaker detestably rode with corrosive God.