Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.


Buttload is a real measurement and it refers to wine, as all good things do. Today, while carrying Maida over my shoulder through a field because she's a big fat baby, I was thinking of the buttload of things I compromise on every day.

Most of them have to do with Maida.

I swear to god, you guys, this dog has the absolute upper hand in all situations. I feel like I've told this story here before, but I can't find it on search and I haven't written for a YEAR, so come on. How about I just tell it again. I think this is why I let her do whatever she wants.

Back when it was still me and Cloey and Maida (never wrote about Clo dying except peripherally but fuck if it still doesn't hurt, man), we all went with my mom and Crockett and my mom's two dogs to a family reunion up in the mountains. Mom and I needed to run some errands and all the dogs were being bad when left alone, so we put all four dogs into her Subaru and drove to this shopping center at the intersection of many mountain highways. When we came out of the hardware store, I realized the rear window was open and Maida was nowhere to be seen.

I'm going to skip to the end for the worriers. She was under the front seat, a place that I would previously have bet 100s of dollars that she couldn't fit. It was fine.

HOWEVER. The forty five minutes where I thought my tiny, dumb, scared-of-men-in-hats, brave-at-the-wrong-times dog was wandering around a big parking lot surrounded by speeding cars were terrible. I kept stopping people and asking if they'd seen a small white dog. My mom started going into stores. We recruited Crockett and he was doing the same. I just ran around screaming her name for awhile.

Shocker (not at all a shocker), it was Crockett who was the voice of reason. He asked if I was SURE she wasn't in the car. We hadn't opened the doors because, as I have previously stated, there were three other dogs in the car and it was a TERRIBLE PLACE FOR A DOG TO RUN AROUND. We'd looked in all the windows and called her name. He decided to see for himself.

I didn't let her go for like twenty solid hours.

And now I carry her through fields when she thinks it's too hot.

I also carry her down the stairs. And lift the covers for her because her nose is too short to lift them herself. And schedule my post work activities around her dinner.

I feel like I should re-title this post 'pushover'.

notes on a scandal

it's an early to mid thirties party up in here