Here is a tale told to me by a male client (these are rare, so enjoy).
My girlfriend was asked to dog sit for her Aunt (no, her Aunt isn’t a dog, she was watching her Aunt’s dog). This was quite an elderly dog, the kind of dog that for years you worry about his impending death. Then it happened, he died.
She struggled with what to do, what to say. She struggled with the idea of finding another 17-year-old mixed terrier with one folded over ear and cataracts, to pull the old switcheroo to avoid telling her Aunt what happened. After some heavy soul searching she called her and told her. She said she understood, she was worried it might happen while she was away and had prepared herself. She kissed him a couple extra times and hugged his neck extra too…just in case.
She had one final request, “Could you please drive him to our vet and have him cremated?”
His ashes were to be put in a wooden box to adorn their family’s fireplace above where his bed had been. My girlfriend agreed said “yes” to everything her Aunt requested, she would have agreed to anything at that point, she felt so bad. When she hung up the phone reality set in…she had agreed to drive a dead 65 lb dog in her brand new car to its vet who was located over an hour away. After much deliberation she decided the best thing to do was to take the train, thus preserve her new car smell instead of trading it in for that old (dead) dog smell.
Obviously the best way to bring a dog’s carcass on public transportation is by stuffing it into a suitcase, right? Well, in my girlfriend’s demented head apparently it is. So she did just that, stuffed Rufus into a suitcase she found in her Aunts closet and went on her way to the train station.
On the train she sat minding her own business, stared out of the window thinking of the dog and her Aunt, but mostly thought of herself and how she got herself into this situation. Just then a gentleman came along side her and asked if the seat next to her was taken. She replied “no” and took her purse off of the seat.
They made idle small talk for the next 30 minutes or so. They talked about their families, their hometowns and eventually their careers. He explained that he was a computer programmer who had recently lost his job due to the economy. He was on the train going to a job interview and was quite hopeful, thanks to a referral. She explained she was in IT (information technology). Knowing her, she was probably awkwardly over explaining that she was traveling with such a huge suitcase only an hour from home because she was transporting a couple computers from the office so she could work on location.
"Oh, interesting" the man answered.
It was only a couple minutes later the doors of the train opened and in a flash the man stood up and as she reached down to grab her purse he grabbed her suitcase and ran off the train. Apparently the seemingly nice gentleman was a thief after her bag of computers which was nothing more than a rolling leather canine hearse.
After much thought and consideration my girl did what any loving niece would do for her grief stricken Aunt in this situation. She called the vet. Canceled the cremation. Told her Aunt she got it done closer to home for a better price. Went to an antique store, found a nice cedar box. Filled a Ziploc with ashes from her Aunts fire place. Stuffed the bag into the box which she then sealed shut, and placed it lovingly onto the fireplace right where her Aunt requested.
She thought for a second about the poor man who discovered what he stole, but realized he got what he deserved. Her Aunt thanked her for taking such good care of something she had worried about having to do for the last two years or so, and my girlfriend felt confident in her decision to keep the secret.
The color room confessionals advice: But seriously, did the Aunt ever ask about her missing suitcase?
Here is a story told to me by a client and one of my favorite people in the entire world. We will refer to her as “Mother of The Year”.
When my first son was young my favorite thing to do at noon was put him in his cage (you know that play-pen thing) and turn on my stories. General Hospital followed by Days of Our lives, of coarse when you have been watching it as long as I have you just call it “days”. I had fallen into this routine for the first 10 months of his life, now this was almost 20 years ago, so then it was no biggie that I did the whole thing while smoking a cigarette and praying his nap would last the entire two hours.
One day, I was about 20 minutes into General Hospital when I looked into my baby’s eyes and noticed something was off. He looked so tired it reminded me of myself in the 60’s…kind of stoned almost. I finished my cig and decided to call the Doctor.
I took inventory of this moment and realized this must be when you switch from selfish 26-year-old into “Mom of the Year”. I was proud of myself considering the old me would have at least waited until the end of my program to call, its not like I could have paused the dvr or anything, this WAS 20 years ago, far before Tivo even existed. I called the Doctor and he said to bring him that afternoon and he would check him out for me.
It took the Doctor all of five minutes to diagnose him with a pretty severe ear infection. He gave me a bottle of pink liquid antibiotic and directed me to give my baby one dose every 6 hours and that the dropper with the black squeezable top attached to the lid was one full dose.
"Ya, ya, ya" I obnoxiously answered to the Doctor. "This might be my first child, but I got the hang of this mothering thing already. Hey, I knew he was sick just by looking into his eyes didn’t I?"
"Yes, you are doing a phenomenal job thus far ‘Mother of the Year’" the Doctor answered just as obnoxiously. He was an old family friend, so we were able to joke with each other like that.
When I got home I gave him his first dose and watched him fall asleep. I did the same, three times a day for the next week and a half. My phone rang that following Tuesday, it was the Doctor calling to check up on my son’s ear infection. These days it is unheard of for a Doctor to call, but thank God those were different times.
"Hey ‘Mother of the Year’, How’s the little one? Does it seem like the medicine is helping."
"Ya, I’d say so, he seems like he’s doing a little better, his fever is almost completely gone. The only problem is this pink shit is so messy. I have ruined 2 sets of his bedding and at least a dozen of his shirts are permanently stained pink"
"What shit is so messy? What are you talking about? Are you missing his mouth with the Antibiotic? He should enjoy the taste, its bubblegum flavor."
“HIS MOUTH?? I’ve been shooting it directly into his ear, because that’s where the infection is.”
"WHAT?" The Doctor came right back at me, "I explained the dropper was one dose to be taken orally, and it’s printed clearly on the side of the bottle.”
"I didn’t read that shit, and if its supposed to be taken orally then why is the dropper perfectly sized to fit into a baby’s ear canal? Answer that one Doc." I snapped back.
"I have no answer for that, but lets bring your son in today and I’ll check him again, I can only assume the infection is far worse at this point."
Well guess what, we went back for another check up and it wasn’t worse. It was completely better, just goes to show you, a mothers first instinct is almost always right. The medical industry doesn’t really know everything. He never got a “Days” interrupting ear infection ever again.
The color room confessionals advice: Maybe hold back from writing a ‘Home Remedies’ book anytime soon, or a parenting book for that matter. Also, don’t expect a call from me for advice next time my child is sick.
Anonymous asked: Do you know what that hair accessory is called? (the one on Kate Winslet's hair)
It looks to me like she’s wearing a couple of long barrettes placed strategically throughout her hair. If the barrette appears to be longer it’s just two put together.
Here is the picture “Anonymous” is asking about-