Monday, February 5, 2007

I can beat that..

I didn’t do anything I needed to do today. No laundry, no housework, and I sure as hell didn’t vacuum. I did go buy new running shoes, ORANGE ones! Yay! I also spent a couple hours in one of those huge chain bookstores. The bookstore near my house in Virginia was a lot like a library; very quiet, lots of couches hidden among the stacks, and librarian-ish looking women behind the counter. Those women knew books; they could find me anything based on very little information. I spent a lot of money and time in there.

The one here is a big one chain store, and has a Starbucks right in the middle – it’s crowded and loud in there on a regular basis. It’s more like a nightclub in there minus the alcoholic beverages. Instead of drunken 20-somethings, you have overly caffeinated 20 somethings, which, in my opinion, is way worse. The baristas push dessert like waitresses in southern diners push sweet tea. Today, from order placement to order pick-up I was asked 3 times if I didn’t want a cookie or a scone or something, honey? The nice part is they let you pay for your book purchases right along with your tea. Nice.

I think about what it takes to take on the task of writing a book often, and wonder what it would be like go into a book store and see your book there.

Today, while perusing the staff recommendations, top sellers, and discount tables, I became convinced the only thing between me (or anyone) writing a book is the actual commitment to *do* it. There was actually a book in there called “Stuff on My Cat” and it was just that, pictures of some poor kitty with whip cream and cherries, guacamole, and every other imaginable horror on him. Just on him. No real text, no story, just some poor warped woman who spent an afternoon dressing her cat up like a stinkin’ appetizer.

Had I known, this kind of shit would sell; my book would be a chronicle of my former life as an anesthesia nurse in a veterinary referral hospital and would be called. “Stuff I took out of your pet.”

Right now, stop reading

Think of something you own that you’re sure your pet would never eat (exclude the absurdly obvious things like your refrigerator) or think of something that would be embarrassing, an illegal substance or perhaps something exposing a sexual proclivity. Oh yeah, those things.

Now, know that I’ve seen them all.

Granny panties, lacy, racy thongs, socks, condoms, tampons, *ahem* toys, little army men (10 in one dog), spiderman action figure (only missing 1 hand), blind pulls, mulch (a pound), sewing needles (still threaded), bottle caps, gravel, a hundred nails, the stuffing to two couch cushions (yes all of it); the contents of a 5 gallon salsa jug; 2 pounds of starburst candy; remote controls, cell phones, Christmas ornaments, Christmas light bulbs, insulation, drywall, tire treading; yeah, all that.

Or, the tearful lady who brought her 9 month old chocolate lab in shaking, unbalanced, panting, and trying to eat the carpet. Key to this story is that this was a referral hospital, so she was sent to us from a GP who couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the puppy. Specifically sent to my department, neurosurgery. So, Dr. Cowboy and I go in the room and examine the dog – which is a little like wresting a hungry alligator. The dog is hitting on all the neurology cylinders, his reflexes are wonky, his eyes are moving involuntarily dependent on position, his gait is off, everything is just wrong. Dr. Cowboy and I leave the room to call about scheduling an MRI for the dog, while the owner takes a call from her roommate.

Dr. Cowboy and I go back in the room to find the dog so soundly asleep I couldn’t rouse him. Alarmed, we took him back to the critical care unit. I go back to explain to the owner what’s going and she closes the door and explains to me that her roommate had called to tell her that his weed is lost. Apparently this was a large amount. Guess who found it?

I worked in that field for 15 years. I’m just betting I could beat “stuff on my cat” up the best seller list.


rennratt said...

You wouldn't have to take anything out of my dog. She always throws it up.

She did, however, manage to eat an entire sleeve off my bathrobe. From the shoulder seam down. Just ripped it off and ATE IT.

She then threw it up in the back yard.

Friggin dog.

Purl said...

Oh my god, your book would sell so fast. But I'd rather read "The World According to Don't Call Me Jennifer".

Regardless of what you write, once your book is in print you'll then be able to go into any bookstore and ask for it, anonymously. "Excuse me, where is your Cravey section? I hear she's brilliant." Or "You mean you don't have Stuff In My Pet by Cravey? What kind of a bookstore is this, anyway?"

purl said...

Forgot to mention that on the elevator this morning, a woman told me her new pit bull had eaten an entire jumbo package of Scott toilet paper that she just bought at Sam's Club. I'm thinking at least 24 rolls?

kenju said...

Did you know that Stuff on my cat is also a web-site? Or it used to be.

I had a friend whose tiny, 6lb. dog ate a whole case of Tums (plastic bottle included), and then a box of Godiva chocolates. Shoulda' been reversed, no?

Anonymous said...

I didn't stop reading, dammit. Now I'm totally grossed out.

By the way, a coworker's dog ate a whole pair of panty hose once -- he said it started coming out the rear end, so he just started pulling...

Roo said...

the way cuppie came to live with me is that he ate some raphia (that stuff people tie on crafty type shit) and it wound up his intestines. he had gotten really cranky after i moved out, and more so after he ate this. i took him to the vet for my mom and they fixed him. breaking his little leg in the process. you know about this less than polite phone call. :D after i hung up the phone, mom smith says, "wow. so he's your cat huh?" guess so. musta been all the times i stuffed him in my sweatshirt pocket when he was little so he'd settle down and take a nap.

utenzi said...

Everybody needs orange shoes, Cravey. I'm glad you have yours now.

tiff said...

Whoa. You should have taken pictures and left it at that.


I'd buy it, for sure. But then, I'm warped.