Another Reason to be a Good Driver

On Saturday, Ken went to play dodgeball which was followed by a BBQ & kickball game in SW Portland. I stayed home to garden but told Ken I'd meet up with him after my shower at the BBQ and bring Kinley (since there were other dogs at the party as well).

I was running late and had my mapquest directions in hand. Over the speed bumps on Stark. Rumbling through the pot-holed Naito Parkway. Down the highway and exiting onto curvy, poorly marked SW portland streets. Oh, I missed my turn. Turn around. And that one. Turn around again. By this time I hear Kinley in the back of the car starting to prepare his stomach contents for ejection, black marlin style*. Good thing I fed him before we left. I stop and run around to the back of the car to let him out. The back door was locked. Crap!

Blaeeccht. Blechtttt. Hurrrlll.

I am too late. By the time I open up the back door, Kinley has puked.

In the pocket of my favorite jacket.

I console my poor dog for my bad driving skills. Then start laughing at the humor in it all. I learned my lesson. Drive slowly. And steady. Or I will pay for it later.



*Indigestible items in the stomachs of Black Marlins are purged out in a manner where the whole stomach is turned inside out (kind of like a giant pool strainer getting emptied and cleaned out from the other side.