Thursday, January 17, 2008

Plumbing Woes...Again

Sailor here.

Mom should just give up on this plumbing thing. Really. She usually embarrasses me but yesterday took the cookie.

I awoke from a snooze to hear cries of woe coming from the Room of the Giant Water Bowl. It seems that the water bowl had an intestinal blockage of some sort. Maybe Mom was feeding it the wrong sort of Raw Meaty Bones. Anyway, moans of dismay, two naps, and a doorbell alert later, a man who is not Roger my plumber friend showed up at the door. The bathroom door.

“I’ll go get my snake,” he said, heading for the door. The front door.

“Snake?” I asked. “He’s getting a snake? What’s that?”

“Snakes are fun,” said Zoe, lurking Siberian-style in the background. “They slither and hiss and spit.”

“Like our Rainbow kitty?” I asked, thinking of HissSpit who is at the Bridge.

“Nah,” Zoe sneezed. “More like Josie the FatCat. She can drag her belly across the carpet just by walking into the front room. That’s called slithering.”

“But Josie doesn’t have a snake belly now,” I said, well aware of what a few months at Mom’s Fat Farm can do to your belly.

At this point, Mom grabbed us and put us both outside, so I never got to smell the snake. Bah.

But the next thing I knew, she was calling me to jump into the car for a trip to the hardware store. I love the hardware store. The hardware store loves me. Sometimes Mom puts on my backpack and I pack Mom’s hard stuff to the car. Just for practice, she says.

Yesterday, we went to the hardware store to buy what Mom told me was a plunger.

“We are going to swim?” I asked, yawning in distress. Water is not my favorite thing.

“We are going to solve our plumbing problems,” Mom said, and proceeded to line up a row of weave poles across the floor. “Gotta find one that isn’t too stiff for me to collapse,” she explained as she leaned on all of them.

“Yay! Here’s a good one,” she said, and then tried to pick it up.

The weave pole stayed put. All the weave poles stayed put. I started to weave, even though Mom was yanking and pulling with all her might on the poles. I tripped over Mom. She tripped over me.

“May I be of assistance?” a voice behind us asked.

Mom turned the color of Zoe’s Kong. I stopped in mid-weave and popped out.

“Oh-oh,” I thought, “I goofed. I’m going to have to do all these poles over again.”

But Mom didn’t send me back to start re-weaving. Instead, she grinned a silly grin and said in a halting voice, “Stuck. They’re stuck.”

The hardware man chuckled and said, “I’ll get a potty knife.”

“Appropriate,” I thought, and watched him release the weave poles from the floor with a really flat knife.

By the time Mom and I got home, she was giggling and laughing and even had to turn up the cold wind in the car. She marched into the house waving her weave pole in triumph. She reminded me of her friend whose Siberian husky got his MACH and the friend got to run around the ring waving a specially decorated bar.

I don’t think I am going to let Mom use the Giant Water Bowl Room alone any more, though. It’s just to embarrassing.

No comments: