To celebrate our penultimate bus trip, Day-z decided to throw up on my lap this morning. Talk about embarrassing…and smelly. I blame myself.
Yesterday, the vet gave me some antibiotics for her. While it’s fine at night because I can bury them in her dinner, the morning pill needs to be hidden in something she’ll eat straight away. She loves cheese so this is what I use.
Normally, the cheese is fine but the combination of the heat, the cheese and the motion of the bus was all too much for her usually iron stomach. Up it came, coating my shorts and left leg in yellow, cheesy bile.
Fortunately no-one seemed to notice (thank goodness no-one was sitting next to me) and we happily tootled along to our bus stop where we quickly alighted.
Of course, Day-z was fine. Her tail was up and she trotted along as if nothing had just happened while the fumes coming from my leg and shorts proved the lie she was engaging in.
At the house, I thanked the plumbers for providing me with running water as I rinsed out the shorts and hosed down my leg. To say it was gross would be an understatement. It was rather good that the sun was available for drying out my clothes and runner.
I spent the rest of the day sorting out the bedroom so I’d have somewhere to sleep from Sunday night. Fortunately Robbie turned up at just the right time to give me a much needed hand with the mattress. He then returned to clearing up the cropped foliage in the front garden (actually, it doesn’t look much like a garden at the moment but I was hard pressed to think of another word).
Clive, meanwhile, spent the entire day relaying the bricks for the driveway. He’s really a tireless worker. And quite meticulous. By the time I left, he’d almost finished. He’ll then need to return to the side of the house, for which he needed to find some more bricks.
Matt the Decorator was busy painting trims and posts and doors while Day-z and I worked around him, putting the bedroom to rights…well, not ‘rights’ exactly, just usable.
We then left earlier than usual (so no photos today) in order to get some food for dinner. Mirinda is coming home tonight and ordered gazpacho. Given the heat, this was a brilliant thought.
Day-z managed to redeem herself late in the day. On our way home via Waitrose, we stopped at Starbucks for a latte. I tied her to the umbrella stand, plonked her onto a chair and, with the finger of authority held high, ordered her to “Wait.” Next to her was a table with two little kids sitting watching. Just across from her was a table with two teenage girls gossiping and slurping on cold things. I went into Starbucks holding up the finger once more.
I watched from inside as she sat patiently waiting. The little kids were amazed that she just sat and waited. There were also quite a few amused glances from passersby. When I returned with my coffee she waited for me to lift her off the chair and onto my lap. The teenage girls complimented me on her good behaviour.
Then an American came to sit with us, asking if it was okay. The woman he was with suggested he ask the dog as she seemed to own the table. And he did. Day-z ignored him with that imperious look-away she has.
The other odd thing he did was tell me how it was proving impossible for him to get ice. Where they were staying, he told me, they had a fridge and a freezer but nothing to make ice with. Clearly not an inventive fellow, he told me they were told they’d find some in Waitrose. I told him that was true.
He then told me that while the English did lots of things well, they didn’t do ice. I thought it rather odd to say something rude to a local but let it pass, explaining that it was usually too cold. I really wanted to say that not every culture had ice with everything.
I expected him to start going on about there being no fast food places in Farnham…but he didn’t. He merely showed me how big the bags of ice are in America. I don’t think he realised what a stereotype he was being.
Our final bus trip went perfectly well with Day-z retaining what was in her stomach (obviously no cheese). I think she might miss our regular commute though I know I won’t. I am SO looking forward to moving back in on Sunday regardless of the mess.