Like any other Friday morning, dragging my pajama laden, half-awake body to my back deck, coffee in hand, I was ready to start my day. I sat there enjoying the sunrise, sipping an amazing brew of caffeinated joy, when mother nature spewed her temper tantrum right down on my GPS coordinates.  As I scampered like a frightened cat to get away from the torrents of rain being bestowed upon me, I tripped over the dog and was jolted into a whole new complication.  I found myself straddling a cactus plant that was within an inch of penetrating my posterior….

Gravity won twofold. I was now resting on the cactus and covered in my coffee.  When I finally regained my composure, but not without spewing words in at least three languages that would surely make the whole US Navy blush, I proceeded to head to the bathroom and remove the impaled thorns from my butt cheeks and shower.  Folgers is not a good aroma on me.

I dressed and prepared to head out to pick up my grandson.  Today I would have a “nana” day with my favorite short person.  Butt still sore, I was glad that it is only a 10 minute drive to meet my daughter at work.  Surely I could handle that, or so I thought.

I managed to get stuck in four traffic jams, pass 5 accidents, and 2 idiots who cut me off.  They really should be happy my butt was too sore.  I really wanted to get out of my car and kick the crap out of then.  Finally, I made it to the pick-up-point in 25 minutes.

The cheery smile, loving hug and sweet face of the blue-eyed munchkin standing there, made all the irritation vanish!  “This is going to be an amazing Friday”, I thought to myself, unaware of the adventure to come on the short trip back home.  Along with my grandson, and unknown to me until I was already committed, the 16 week old little furry terrorist, also known as “Dallas”,  was joining us for the day.  I can handle this, no sweat.  I love puppies.

We hit the highway, laughing together and singing to the nursery rhymes on CD blaring through the speakers.  All of a sudden that furry little terrorist got car-sick.  My grandson started screaming, and gagging as the puppy proceeded to desecrate him, my whole back seat and the floorboard with his breakfast contents.  I attempted to maintain my composure as the smell wafted forward in my little Chevy Aveo.  To top it off, GRID-LOCK.

Traffic in front of us came to a complete halt.  Here we were, trapped in a car with a vomiting dog, pouring down rain, and in the middle lane with absolutely no escape route available. Happy Friday to me!

After 10 minutes of a standstill on the interstate, neither my grandson nor I could handle the smell of doggie barf any longer. It was now obvious we were not going to be moving anytime soon.  I had him remove his shirt, and opened my window and laid it on the top of my car in the pouring rain, along with the jacket of mine that was laying on the back seat and now covered as well.  How in tarnation can there be contents of a 20 lb stomach in a 2 lb dog?

Wailing sirens continued for another 20 minutes.  Finally the highway was clearing as emergency vehicles made their way to the off ramp. Traffic was going to start moving, so I retrieved the items from the top of my car that were soaked, tossed them into the hatchback, jumped in the drivers seat and buckled up to head to our destination.

I had never been so happy to see my driveway!  We pulled in, the dog got tossed in the tub with my grandson, clothes and all.  He splashed around and played.  When done and in dry clothes and dog napping next to him watching cartoons, he fell asleep.  I settled in the chair with a fresh cup of coffee, content with newfound calmness.  Truly after the morning I have had, the coffee was well earned and loaded with enough Kahlua to make a monkey see cross-eyed.  Just another day in the life of a “NANA”!

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