My Escape Artist

Today is my last day in my twenties. At exactly 6:22 am tomorrow morning, Ill be 30 years old. I'm taking this OK, I think - I haven't curled up in the closet with a bottle of Jack yet.

Seriously though, I've had a nice birthday week thus far. I've been to the beach twice, been out to eat at several good places, received my bday gift from my parents early, and got a tattoo. Today, I slept in until about 1145 am realizing I was supposed to go to the store w/ Sarah at noon. After I got back from Kroger, I went over and played a game of scrabble with Scott and had a few beers. Brian decided to work out at the Sycamore store until 8 pm tonight so I have the rest of the evening to myself.

This break has really helped. I feel so much better. It took about 4 days for me to stop looking for things to stress about. Brian is back to work, my money problems are gone, and I have a month break from my stressful job. And tomorrow I'll be 30.

Funny Story: Yesterday when I got up I thought, I'll go to my parents and
have coffee with mom and let the dogs play in the side yard. Then met up with my dad and head down for my tattoo appointment. However, my dad wimped out and decided he couldn't watch. My mom offered, but she has never been in a tattoo shop and its probably better it stays that way.

I asked my mom if she minded if left the dogs in the side yard while I went for my appointment. She had no problem with it - its good exercise for Rocky too. I left at 1145. Chris started my tattoo at about 1230. I was in the chair for an hour and a half. I checked my cell phone (it was on vibrate) when I left the shop. I had 12 missed calls and 5 voice mails. I'm like, WTF? I called my mom's cell because the majority of the calls came from her or my dad. She answered the phone in hysterics, causing me to jump and wishing I had checked the messages first.

I pulled up in the emergency lane on 71 North about 25 yards from my parent's car as they has requested. As I walk up, my mom gets out of the car, face red, close to hyperventiliation and sobbing. My dad gets out piss off and angry, which is pretty much how I felt. We scanned the hillside from the bottom of my parent's house on 71. The brush was too thick to see thru - she was nowhere to be found. This is so typical. And the fourth time she has done this.

My escape artist dog, aka Katie could be considered "special needs". She is the runt from Biscuit's litter and was kept in a chain link fenced in kennel for 2 years. The only time she was ever handled was when the farmer's wife took her to be spaid. I took her when she was about 2 1/2 years old because farmer told me they were taking her among two other dogs to the pound. Since she was un-socialized, she never learned the vital skills needed to be a functional dog - the kind most folks want in a dog anyway.

I was more pissed off at her than anything. She has impeccable timing. Its always when something big is about to happen. Here I am, getting ready to turn 30, wanted to have a a stress-free relaxing time and she had to do it. I knew she'd be OK. I knew she was. I'm not that lucky. I half-heatedly hoped she was gone for good. I know that sounds harsh, but you really have no idea what this dog has put us through over the years. Jesus. Talk about a train wreck. She needs her own reality show. "Bad Girl Katie: Failed Cesar Milan" Sunday nights on FOX."

Within 15 minutes, I had 2 calls, one from a woman to tell me they found her wondering around in Rookwood Commons and one from a man stating her took her to my address and put her in the backyard. I guess that Dog tag fee is worth it. Otherwise it would be trips ito the SPCA weekly.

Here is the kicker: Someone from the office building called the police stating that there was a woman crying and pacing with a cane and a man that was screaming at her and beating her up and then run up the expressway hillside into the brush. By the time the cop got there to answer a "domestic dispute" as he called it, my mom was gone. Thank God for my dad that the SPCA was still there, since they backed up my dad's story he didn't have to take a ride downtown.

One dog can cause all that mess. I swear.