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We are in Florida.
It is three in the morning. I can’t sleep.
We are in Florida.
I finally got out of bed because I was kicking around and vaguely fantasizing about getting rid of Murphy. The fantasy (which could be a reality) was looking up my old, punk ass bitch boss who saddled me with the beast on a “trial basis” and dropping her off on his doorstep in Michigan. Actually, I think about this quite often. Almost four years ago, I took Murphy, with the agreement that I was going to think about keeping her. When I wanted to give her back, they (boss Joe and his wife) wouldn’t take her.
Although thinking back about it, I only talked to his wife on the phone, since puck ass boss Joe was on a business trip. I told her that I couldn’t take care of Murphy the dog anymore and that no one else would take her. I was selling my house and moving, so if they wouldn’t take her back, I would have to put her to sleep. She said she had to call Joe and call me back. When she called back ten minutes later, she said that I would have to do whatever I had to do, but they weren’t taking Murphy back. By this time, the business and and friend relationship had curdled, due to circumstances other than Murphy.
Thinking back on it, she probably never even called Joe. They had a six month old baby at the time, and Joe was gone on business often. Even though his wife was a super, punk ass bitch, for this and many other reasons, I could see the motivation there.
I looked them up on Yahoo. There are two addresses, and one phone number listed that I remember. Their baby is old enough to deal with a dog now. I know Joe loved Murphy, even though he was a punk ass bitch.
I just don’t know what to do with this creature that I became responsible for somewhat by default. By next year, we want to travel the country. Two people, two cats and a dog are just too much in a VW camper van.
I can’t put a sometimes cute, sporadically healthy, mildly intelligent dog down. Even though I joke about the “death shot” often, I could never do it. Well, maybe I could do it. No, no I definitely couldn’t do it.
No other sucker…I mean caring individual like myself would take in a ten year old arthritic, tumor eyed smelly dog, would they? Where can I find people like this?
It’s three thirty a.m.
I’m in Florida.
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