Who eats a drawer full of socks?
I’ll tell you who….
Want to know who paid over two thousand dollars to have said socks removed from his intestines?
Want to know whose college fund is now two thousand dollars short because it was his socks that the asshole ate?
That devious looking turd.
Actually, the two thousand dollars came from our kitchen floor fund which ironically is the same god damned linoleum floor that Champ ate.
It was still dark out when I went to go wake up Chunky for school. I made my way down the hall and tripped over Champ who laying outside of Chunky’s bedroom door.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
I flipped on the light and reached down to pat his head. He had been sick for a few days; throwing up socks. He looked listless and barely had enough strength to wag the tip of his tale.
“Suicide by sock? You do know that it’s 2014 and we feed you real food right?” He looked up at me with those weary eyes and I felt my heart sink.
We never thought that we would be “those” pet owners. You know, the ones who will donate their left nipple to save their four legged animal from walking the green mile. We’ve heard of people shelling out thousands for medical treatments such as chemo for cancer, anticonvulsants for seizures and oh my Dr. Freud, antidepressants.
“A bullet is much cheaper,” we’d joke.
We talked about what we would do in their situations and we always came down to the conclusion that we would not prolong their suffering (go ahead and dispute that) and today was more likely the day that we were going to have to play Jesus.
We got home from the vet’s and there was no dumb dog barreling through the kitchen to greet us. I was able to take my shoes off without having a tail punched in my face and a tongue slicking back my hair (1). There was no one to accompany me during lunch, sitting in perfect posture just waiting for that last piece of crust from a sandwich (2). There was no one curled up next to me, snoring as loud as your Dad, while I worked on the computer (3). There was no one barking when the mail carrier came or when that nasty cat that shits in my garden in order to protect us (4). There was no one to sneak onto the bed after Shawn leaves for work and plops his ass on my pillow so that I can wake up to his chocolate donut hole (5). There was no one there to tell me that he loves me no matter what (6).
Text message from Vet: Kimberly, we removed the socks from his intestine. He’s doing great (7).
Me: Are you just telling me that? (He wasn’t able to really visualize any foreign object since x-rays can’t pick up cloth. I told him that he better lie and tell me that he found something so that we can feel better about our decision.)
Vet: Yup. It was a sock with a skull and crossbones on it (Chunky’s sock that had been missing for weeks. WEEKS). We thought it was funny and ironic considering the situation.
Me: Well can you wash those puppies off so that I can frame them. Those socks cost us two thousand dollars (8).
(He actually kept them for me.)
Yes, we paid for the asshole to live. Some people may disagree but pets do become a part of a family and you do what you have to do to keep them safe and well (9).
Champ is ten years old and despite that, he still has the gumption to run in the yard, swim in the lake, chase a 5 year old, and eat fucking socks just like a puppy (10). Only he’s slower and more stupid.
So here’s to you buddy old pal.
Word for the warning:
If this happens again, I’m going to release you into the middle of the highway and see how that pans out.
No one will ever be that happy to see you and I’m thankful for that “welcome home”.
- I hate the last piece of crust so I’m thankful that he eats it and that it doesn’t go to waste. Kidding. I get a kick at how disciplined he is, just sitting there looking all cute and waiting patiently for a snack.
- That just makes me smile.
- I have a little issue with anxiety and sometimes paranoia. I’m thankful in knowing that he’d tear a piece out of someone if they even tried. And who would walk with Chunky into the dark basement?
- Despite all of the hair that sticks to the sheets and the “good morning” butt hole, I like him snuggling with me. (Ps. He doesn’t always stick his ass in my face).
- I had his balls cut out eons ago and he still loves me.
- Thankful that he lived.
- Thankful for finding the humor in awful situations.
- Chunky calls him brother. I still call him asshole.
- Thankful that he is still healthy.