To my husband on a business trip, my gift better be good...

Why is it that whenever my husband goes out of town, the dog has a crisis and the baby forgets how to sleep? 5:45 am was my wake-up call this morning; a very awake, very chipper girl, bouncing around her crib happily ready to party, greeted me. As I had only been asleep for four hours, I was not in the partying spirit, but she was un-phased.

I got her changed and dressed. I had little to wear however, my only jeans that fit needed washing, and I didn't want to shower and put on dirty clothes. It was also O-Dark thirty, so I threw my sweat pants on under my nightgown, threw a hoodie over my nightgown, I put my jeans in the wash, made Evie a bottle and off we went.

After Evie’s morning bottle, I had the distinct privilege of then attending to my husband’s dog. She had eye surgery a few weeks back, and was supposed to be wearing a cone on her face to keep her from disturbing the stitches. Well, she broke that cone. She actually broke several. We had long ago given up trying to keep the plastic thing on her neck, and just tried to watch her, telling her to stop every time we’d catch her scratching at her stitches. Apparently we did a poor job. She now has an ulcer on her eye. She has a new cone, and eye drops. And tranquilizers.

Since the husband is out of town, guess who gets to administer the drops? And the tranquilizers? Twice a day? That would be me.

So this morning, after feeding, diapering and clothing the baby, I brought her downstairs, put her in the pack n’ play with some toys and began wrestling the dog. I really should have called the neighbors and offered tickets…it really was quite the spectacle.

Every day this week I have watched my husband all but hog-tie the stupid animal, while trying to get the drops in her eye. Then he sits with her at her food dish, begging her to eat, so he can give her a pill. I tried his method for about 10 seconds. Well, momma didn’t raise no fool, I wasn’t about to screw around with that. I called her over, I offered her treats (I am not above bribing a dog.) I gave her a treat, she sat.

Then I grabbed her around the body, swung her between my legs, (nightgown dangling over the sweat pants) grabbed the fool’s head and while holding her in a head lock, grew a third hand and used it to squirt the drops in her eye. She tried to squirm away from between my legs, but I held firm. When we were all done, I gave her another treat, and all was forgiven.

Enter stage two, pill administration. I was certainly not going to beg her to eat so she would take a damn pill. No sir. I got a can of dog food, which are supposed to be reserved for illness only. I made an executive decision that if she has to eat to take the pill, and she’s going to take an hour to sit here to eat the dry crap, but she’ll eat the wet stuff in one swallow, and I need her to have a full stomach to be sedated so she will leave her stitches alone, well by all means, bring on the canned food! She ate the canned crap in one swallow, as I anticipated. Then I jammed the pill in some peanut butter on the end of a spoon to ensure there was no way she could get around the pill, let her lick it off and sent her on her way.

All this happened while the other dog bounded around us like a fool, darting in and out, wanting to investigate, whining and barking, my pushing him away with my foot or my arm, telling him to "back off." The baby watched from the pack n' play, chewing on the rail, jumping up and down, laughing and shouting "dah dah dah dah daaaaaaah" she thought the entire thing was hilarious. Good times, good times.

The dog is now sleeping soundly on her bed on the carpeted floor in the garage, I told her we'd meet again in 12 hours.

As for the husband, well he owes me something shiny.