Road Trip To Hell...

A picture of Marineland, Florida taken on 12/15/07.











Okay, so we left for Florida on Wednesday. All happy and ready to enjoy our vacation. We had about six hours sleep each the night before, so after I got us through the Atlanta traffic, I went to sleep in the backseat. I was just that tired. And my mom drove from about Jonesboro to Tifton. And then we had to stop. Why? Because our dog was having a heat stroke. Two hours in. I broke about 8 different traffic laws finding the local vet, on I-75 no less. I was aching for a ticket, but I didn't get one. Thank god.

I found the vet, and a good thing, too. Wrinkles's head was lolling to the side, and her tongue was turning purple. Let's put it this way. It resembled a chow's. The techs, who have never seen us before, rush in to save her. We're scared to death since she's 12, and that's old for a pug. She couldn't hold her stool, or walk. Literally, she could only crawl around. So, we're waiting for the vet to get there (it was lunch break), and in the meantime we're freaking out more. Thinking what kind of crackpot clinic did we land in. Mama's thinking the dog will die, and I'm holding out hope she'll live.

So they have to put her under anesthesia because she can't breathe, even with oxygen. We hope and pray, and leave when they suggest it since the dog had shitted a bit on the seat. And my jeans. Oh, right forgot to mention that. I look down and there's a big spot of shit on my jeans. And I didn't even care. I washed them off a bit, and then worried about the dog. When we had to get gas, I stopped and changed. Tossed the shit on jeans because if we ended up taking the rest of the vacation, who wants to put that in their car for seven days. Good thing they were my Wallyworld ones.

We find the recommended car wash and they wash off the seat and vacuum it for fifteen bucks which was good since the seat couldn't be used until it was cleaned. So we kill time with that (pre tossing of jeans), and then go get the gas, where the jeans came off. And after that, we were like "you hungry?"so I asked the attendant a good place to eat at. See, we hadn't eaten since about 10 and it was close to 4 by then. Yeah, I was brilliant for a diabetic, wasn't I? But we had been dealing with Wrinkles and the ER trip since 1:30. We park into Ruby Tuesday's three exits up and I notice that we missed the phone call from the vet. She's stable for now! And we can come see her if we want. We leave the restaurant (hadn't even made it in), and rush over. Puppy is awake, but groggy. They're in love with her, no surprise, and she's handling it okay. Which is awesome since she's never been in a kennel before. Oh, and they need to take some blood.

They're going to keep her overnight, so we need to find a place to stay. We go back to the restaurant and get some really good food. My dad calls and I'm filling him in on the events leading up to it. After awhile, the manager, who helped with mama's dairy issue choices, recommends the Holiday Inn next door.

Okay, it seems awesome. Except not so much. The curtains are like see through, and there is no heavier fabric to keep it dark. But okay, we can handle it. It wasn't that bad. Not really. Just, weird since we're on the bottom floor and everyone can see in. We had unpacked enough clothes and stuff to last the night and didn't cart everything in. We had said if the pup didn't make it, that we were turning around. No need to go on vacation while in mourning.

The doctor calls around 6. The bloodwork came back fine, very well in fact. They were surprised since the age of the dog. Go team us. And no, the pup doesn't have her vaccinations, because of severe allergic reactions. I mean, she shits and vomits for two weeks afterwards. And at that age, it's just not worth it. We're told to call in the morning and we'll see if she can go.

The next morning we're out the door by 10:30, ready to pick up the dog. There's a Starbucks in the parking lot (like literally it was about 20 feet from the motel), so we go get some pastries and coffee to go. Then we go pick up Wrinkles and while still groggy, she's okay. We're told to not use her harness unless absolutely necessary and to chuck the travel harness out since it was cutting off her air supply. Mama rides in the back with her, like she always does when it's her turn. And the total vet bill for oxygen, fluids, anathesia, eye drops, antibiotics, and general stuff? 236. Yes, that's like a fraction we were expecting. For all that, including Pill Pockets, and those are about 10 bucks. We wanted to take these people home with us.

If you're ever in Tifton and have an emergency, I fully endorse Quailwood Animal Clinic. The people are awesome. They even handfed Wrinkles chicken. We usually just feed her Purina Beneful (something the doc actually endorsed, too), but they spoiled the hell out of her. But Quailwood is like top notch.

We make it to St. Augustine, finally. In about three hours or less. I'm a speed demon and I can change lanes like no one's business. I mean, hey, I learned to drive in Atlanta. I can handle any traffic combat.

I'll continue the motel adventure tomorrow. This is already a book. But the moral of the story is that Wrinkles is fine.