I found myself finished with my first drink in a matter of minutes. We played some Bingo old-school style, no machines, just paper, dobbers and us (by this time we were a trio as you never know who you'll run into when you live in such a small town with highly limited options on activities.) Stress was present. Keeping up with 12 cards is no easy task, this I learned. Bingo ended without our getting to yell those magic words-- fun nonetheless. After eating (now on my third drink) we gambled.
Now, I am not, how-you-say, "lucky"... as a general rule. It has been noted, however, that I do have better luck when playing with someone else's monies, go figure. Last night was a different story entirely. I turned $40 into $160-- a well received amount at that! To celebrate, I picked up my fourth Long Island. By this point I am feeling fine and no longer stressing out on that which inclined me toward drinking in the first place; that which was responsible for the conception of our date-night really.
I thank my ipod for this luck! Listening to my own gambling soundtrack for some of the evening, I was able to take myself out of the bells and whistles of the casino and play on my terms-- yay!
The boy did well too, but he always does :)
As we smoke our departing cigarettes with our buddy in the front of the casino we can hear dogs barking and generally going crazy... it smells like salt water. And then we hear whining, not human but canine. Then we notice what looks like horse-dog-wolf from afar but as he approaches, cautiously while whimpering, it becomes clear that he is some sort of golden lab. It also becomes increasingly clear that he is injured. Badly injured.
To me it looked as if a mass, the diameter of a soda can or better was coming out of his butt! This immediately explains the whimpering and changes our perceptions of what may have been going on. Initially we thought some tweeker left their dog in the back of their truck and the dog got cold or bored, or a blend of both. After we saw the injury we thought that the dog must have come from somewhere else. Maybe he fell out of the back of someones car and got a severe road rash on his heine. The poor thing!
By this point my bf, M, had summoned the security guards... dogs hate folks in uniforms! He took off slowly down a hill that led to the exit of the casino property. But he wanted help. We were able to coax him back with smells of dog treats (luckily always in our friend's car.) And there we sat. For over an hour. As we waited for Animal Control. At 3am. The security guards were really cool and his their uniforms and silenced their keys. They even made an announcement in the casino to see if the owners were inside... no one responded.
At some point a tweaker-couple comes out of the casino and wonders what this group of six is doing. Once the tweaker-dude sees the dog he exclaims, "That's so-and-sos dog" Is he in the casino? Why yes, yes he is. When the owner arrives he is in some sort of Land Rover looking thing and cracked out of his mind, He was inside the casino. He hadn't responded to the announcements. And worse, his dog was in a lot of pain and really looked like he needed a vet. The pup was noticeably excited to see his owner and M noticed the owner load the dog by pushing him in the car. Pushing, in fact, directly on the abscess. Then, looking at his hand and wiping in on his pants, he got back in his car and left. We found out the abscess was cancer. I wonder about the quality of life that dog has... because I think he doesn't. Baaaaaaaaad owners, very bad owners!
And I want a doggy soooo badly!!
When all was said and done, sleep happened when the sun was coming up. Which would have been fine, today is Saturday after all were it not for the fact that I had a tea date at 10am this morning with an old friend who is up here visiting. I pressed snooze on my alarm and the next thing I knew it was 12:30--shit! I called her and left, what I am sure now, was a convoluted message that was received... I don't know how it was received.
I've never done something like this, accidentally standing someone up... and I feel awful about it. There's a first time for everything and I've already done what I can to make it right. Sure, I probably could have gone to bed a bit earlier but we never could have left that poor puppy until we knew he was "squared away"-- whatever that ended up meaning.
Oh yeah, and I have a slight hangover.
To begin to imagine what was running through this man's mind sends shivers down my spine... such a tragedy.
