Grooming day!!! The day only day I am dog free and I can go eat at a restaurant that doesn’t allow dogs and get major errands done. I needed furniture. Specifically a sofa. My bony butt can’t handle the willow bench any more that has been the only seating option since I moved months ago to Mexico.
I first headed to treat myself to a lunch at a canine free establishment the Spoos never let me go. I scarfed down a serving of green bean and baby potato salad in an amazing vinaigrette and a steak sandwich with grilled chipotles. Then I remembered I was really craving the chicken mole at another pup banned place. Oh well – the next grooming day.
I went to a few furniture stores before I made the command call that I was going to have to go with the custom made sofa because nothing was ringing my bells. But, in the process I found “the bird.”
The Ajijic Plaza has this one story tall kinetic bird sculpture that I have loved. You can kind of see it in the picture picture of the square in the bottom near center. Not long ago I saw a smaller one at a sale but it had been purchased. I was bummed.
But what did I find at one of the furniture stores??? I have named him Cromwell. He is temporarily placed by my table sold to me by a couple because they were moving back to the States. I had gone to their place hoping to buy their sofa 🤪
Celebration of finding my rocking crane called for chicken mole. That’s right. I ate two lunches in a three hour time period. Gangstas need that chow. My solution to my bony butt on the bench is to fatten up that fanny
I still had two hours before picking up the Spoos. I decided to go check out an area I hadn’t explored yet. When I arrived in Ajijic, someone told me it was impossible to get lost. If you went too far one way you hit the lake. If you went too far the other way you hit the mountains. I ended up lost…
…on the opposite side of the mountains. I have no idea still after staring at google maps how I did it. But, all of a sudden I noticed the mountains to the south. Ummm – the lake is always to the south. Time to pull over and figure out if Waze knew Mexico. I pulled up at the groomers right at 5:00 pm and still confused as to where I had been.
The dog’s groom looked great. So that wasn’t going to last. I got home and they went into zoomies. Sherlock went into one of his spin jumps just as Shasta hit him full force. Sherlock slammed into the edge of the steel driveway gate where it rubs on the bushes when it opens. Hence the green line on Sherlock’s hip. He went down with a horrid yelp.
I ran over, picked him up, put him in the car, loaded Shasta, and headed to the vet. Sherlock laid still during the short five minute drive. Sherlock laying down is never a good sign.
I got to the vets (where they are also groomed,) jumped out, ran in, and told the vet Sherlock was in the car and couldn’t stand up. She went to the car with me and when I opened the back hatch, Sherlock was spinning and jumping in circles like he always does. If it wasn’t for the stain on his back end I’m sure she would have thought that I was one of the worst over-reactors on Earth. She poked it and moved it around and said to see how he was in the morning. Darn dog!
And this is where the dusty chicken comes into play. There is a roadside stand where a man grills nothing but chicken. The locals call it dusty chicken because it use to be on a dirt section of the road and the passing cars coated the chicken as it grilled making a most yummy crust. It is like crack – meat meth. You have it once and you are hooked
It was a dusty chicken that the Spoos stole off the counter after their their last groom. I was unloading everything and made the mistake of bringing the chicken in first. Spoos are smart. Together their IQ adds up higher than mine. Unless I put a roasted chicken in a vault, it will be theirs. Now, let me add that the dusty chicken comes with some roasted hot peppers and onions. When I finished unloading the dogs were not to be found. I discovered them in the back bathroom like this:
It was clear which one ate the one missing pepper and that they had both shared in the chicken. All that was found was the two onions and one remaining pepper. One thing that was not remaining was the plastic bag the chicken was in. Crud! One or both ate the plastic along with chickens and bones. I called the vet who recommended giving them white bread and watching them for signs of a problem. They got their bread and so did I as now toast was the only thing left for me for dinner. That night I wearily crawled into bed after being on poop vigil. On my pillow was the inside-out chicken bag. They put the evidence in the last place I would see for the day. They knew my anger would be long gone by then. “I love my dogs, I love my dogs, I love my……”
So fast forward back to the day Sherlock hurt his hip and Cromwell came into our life. The vet/groomers is right across from the dusty chicken stand and the smell has lured me in every time we left grooming or vet care before. But since they ate it – bones and all – last time I had decided there would be no pollo for them that as I had left grooming the first time. But, as I looked in the rear view mirror as I backed out of the vets after his “injury” I saw Sherlock standing with his leg up looking miserable. It might not have been broken but he was in pain. He needed chicken crack to make himself feel better. I stopped for a chicken – minus onions and peppers.
It was only after we got home and dug into our treat that it hit me he was holding up his front leg which he has done since a puppy as one of his cute begging poses. I was sure I had been played.
Regardless, after my two lunches, I still enjoyed my share of the score. Birds win the day!