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Saturday, August 10, 2013

Getting Trashed

Yesterday at lunch, I got stuck in the trash can.  Getting stuck isn’t new for me.  I’m forever ending up in a pinch.  But the trash can thing was a new twist. 

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Nobody saw it anyway, except the dog, and he promised not to tell.  Okay, there were Milk Bones involved, but I think he’ll keep mum.

I was feeding The Kitten Who Shall Not Be Named, which sounds like I was dumpster-diving for cat food which would be a new low, even for me.  But really, I was throwing away the tiny can from a Very Expensive brand of kitten food that the vet, who must think I sell oil in my spare time, insists that I feed this pitiful baby who is taking on weight like an overbooked cruise ship.

The pitiful baby whiled away her time trying to climb my leg for the plate of food.  If I ever have that many needles in my ankle again, I’d better have an intricate tattoo of George Clooney to show for it. I looked down to shoo the hungry beast, while at the same time pressing down on the button to open the lid of the trash can. In a unique blend of talent, luck, and bad karma, my bracelet got stuck in the hinge.

Multitasking at its finest.

One hand was balancing a plate of high dollar fish bits and the other hand was swimming with the fishes. So I did what any responsible, level-headed person would do.

I screamed like a first time roller coaster rider, threw one hand in the air, jerked my bracelet free and watched as the Labrador neatly snatched the kitty snack out of thin air.

And nobody had to mop the floor.

That’s why I love dogs.

1 comment:

Lisa said...

She looks like Luna from behind!