Sorry, Friend

I'm sorry. I want you to know I sincerely mean that. I can't imagine what you must be feeling at this moment.

In my defense, I have to say, I never signed up for this. I got your message 3 days after you'd already left, with the excuse that you had to leave quickly and had just found the time to call. “Just check on the place a few times, please! I'll be back in a week. Thanks for being such a good friend!” (Translation: If you're a good friend you won't mind.)

Think for just a minute on that. How would you have taken it? Still, as a friend, I felt a responsibility to help. So, yeah, I showed up. Three fucking days after you just took off, I showed up on you doorstep with the spare key I carried, like a good friend should.

The stench hit me right about the time I unlocked the door. I should've known what was coming next, but you forgot to mention that you'd left both Red and Rusty locked up in the house. As soon as I swung the door open, a hundred-fifty and some odd pounds of twin Irish Setters hit me right square in the chest. Yeah, I'm their friend, too.

While the three of us were flying backward off the front porch, it occurred to me that they were wearing a lot of what they'd stepped in and slid through on the way to and out of the door. No need to wonder at that point what the smell was, because I was wearing it by then, too. All I could to was brace for the landing and spend the next ten minutes getting rubbed on and rolled around by a pair of smelly, over-stressed dogs.

When they were done with me and went running around the yard, I picked myself up. Saturated with dog saliva and other canine fluids, plastered with smeared excrement, I considered heading right back home. But that's not what a good doggy friend does. No sir, I rounded those rambunctious pups up and put 'em out back, so they wouldn't jump the short fence in the front. Then I went back around front, held my breath and went in.

I was relieved to see that you'd at least remembered to leave plenty of food and water in their automatic dispensers. They'd been pushed around some, and some of the water was sloshed on the floor, but they'd been eating and drinking. I guess that should have been obvious, since the end result of their eating was the source of the odor.

I suppose you know you'd programmed the robovac to clean. I won't bother with the details on that. I didn't want you to have to deal with it, so I tossed it out in the back yard with the pups. I remembered your snow shovel in the shed and used it to clean up and then chucked it out there, too. The hose was already connected to the back hydrant, so I turned it loose on all four of them.

I'd forgotten how much your dogs like a good soaking. They had a blast. The robovac, not so much. The snow shovel was indifferent. Meanwhile, I got soaked, too, so I went ahead and rinsed off good with the hose.

That's when the wind picked up. Man, the March wind has a nip to it when you're wet. But, hey, we're friends, so I knew it'd be ok to warm up in your shower. Luckily, I'd left the back door unlocked so I could go back through the house.

Well, my four-legged buddies weren't about to get left outside, and I almost went down again, but managed to keep my feet when they charged in and went straight through the kitchen to the living room. I was really glad I hosed them off, so your new sofa wouldn't been all muddy. I hope the upholstery is water-resistant.

I got them settled down and started the shower running, then decided a cup of coffee would be just the thing when I got out. You didn't have any made, so I dug around in the pantry and finally found a can and the filters. You know, if you had one of those K-cup things, a guy wouldn't have to fix a whole pot.

Anyway, by the time I got the coffee brewing, the hot water was gone. I didn't think it had taken that long, so I checked your water heater. You know there's a Vacation setting, right? I guess not, since you'd shut it off. I decided to leave that to you and go take a shower at home. I like my coffee brand better, anyway.

I wasn't about to leave your dogs there, so I walked back into the kitchen to grab their leashes from the hook. My plan was to load them up and take them to my place. Yes, I knew they'd jump in my vehicle without needing to be led, but I can't walk them in my neighborhood without them.

Damn, but those dogs are smart! As soon as they saw me headed toward the leashes, they were right on my heels. The second I had the leashes in hand, they both sat, perfectly still except for the trembling in anticipation. I was really impressed with their behavior, and since they wanted to be leashed, I figured, “Why not?”

That question was answered just seconds after the clips snapped onto their collars. I went down this time, and found myself being dragged toward the front door as quickly as the two of them could manage on the slick floor. (Did I mention that they're incredibly strong, too? Seriously, you should get a dogsled for wintertime.)

On the way down, I made a lunge for the counter, but only managed to knock the coffee maker onto the floor. Fortunately, it missed me, but you're going to need to replace that carafe. My feet were free after landing on my back, so I used them to try and stop myself. The fridge was the only target I could reach, and it just turned out of the way, while my feet slipped off. Judging from the noise, some of what's in there may not have survived.

When I tried using the kitchen wall as a stop, there was already too much momentum built up, and I was yanked up onto my feet. There would be no sliding on the living room carpet. This time, I went down on my face, with my arms helplessly stretched out in front of me, hands locked in the loops of the leashes.

The drag coefficient provided by the carpet slowed our progress, and the padding softened the blow to my face somewhat. I don't know if it was the added drag or my screams that got Red and Rusty's attention, but they stopped and came back to check on me. In the process, Rusty's leash tangled with the floor lamp, which tangled with the end table, which impeded their progress a bit, but they made it back to check on me.

There I was, buddy, face down on your living room floor, with Rusty lying in front of me, dragging a piece of furniture. He showed his sympathy by giving my left ear a good tongue bath. I'd managed to work my hands free, and Red was doing his unique version of CPR on my back. It probably would've looked pretty comical to anyone watching, but from my perspective, behind the rug burn on my face, the humor was kinda' hard to find.

On the bright side, we'd stopped before they drug me out the front door. I don't think the trip across the porch and down the steps would have been a fun one in my position. As it turned out, things could have been a whole lot worse.

After letting them calm down a bit, I got myself upright again and the dogs wandered out to wait by the car. I took a quick inventory of my injuries, and decided my ribs were just bruised, not broken. My back is probably gonna' need some visits to the chiropractor, but I can walk, even if my gait does look a little weird.

I think you made out ok, too. Yeah, you may need to dry out the robovac, but that thing was the source of a whole lot of trouble. Maybe you should just shoot it and buy a nice upright. I know a guy that would give you a great deal. The coffee maker is a little dinged up, but it should be ok. The carafe is pretty cheap. Or hell, maybe just go ahead and get a K-cup model. A lot less fragile, and you can have some other coffee brands on hand for when your friends come around.

Anyhow, I left this little note in the mailbox by the front gate for you, but if you're reading it, then you you already know that.

The pups are fine and they're spending some vacation time with me. I took them to a great little fishing cabin I found and we're having a ball. We should be back in about a week. Thanks for being such a good friend!

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