A Killer Roadtrip

Oh. You guys didn’t know I took off the whole month of January from blogging? Well neither did I, but apparently…it’s my thing. Here is a story I’ve been wanting to share since my fateful road trip to Delaware for Christmas (I know, that was like, last YEAR!).

My good friend Kelley, my dog Dewey and I left Atlanta the Monday before Christmas for America’s First State: Delaware. Kelley was joining me in my hometown for a night, then I drove her to meet her family (also in the northeastern U.S.) the following day. Anyway, that’s why she was with me.

About halfway through our trip, somewhere in North Carolina, I stopped at a gas station to fill up. Kelley walked over to the McDonald’s next door for a coffee and a Big Mac. Ok, maybe just a coffee. Kelley is a skinny vegetarian.

Bitch.

While my car was fueling up, I noticed a wooded area a few hundred feet away and decided to take Dewey to pee. I left the car and walked him over to the area where I let him casually sniff and lift his leg, while I (with a light grip on the leash) most likely daydreamed about how much I was going to eat in the next 10 days.

And suddenly…I heard a rustle in the bushes and before I could process that there was a cat or some other small animal in our midst, the leash was yanked out of my hands. Dewey had taken off into the woods.

Mother. F*cker.

I tried to go in after him, but it was all bramble bushes and he was getting farther and farther away. So because I’m such a genius, I decided to get the car and maybe lure him in by opening the car door. (He’s fallen for it before.) I sprinted across the parking lot, got in my car (luckily, I remembered to take the gas hose out and put the cap back on) and gunned it across the parking lot. In the meantime, Kelley was walking back over and saw me speed across the parking lot like I was in a high-speed chase. And a truck driver had also pulled up right alongside the wooded area in that 1.5 minutes.

Dewey was deep in the woods, running around like a lunatic.

“There he is!” yelled the truck driver.

I stopped dead in my tracks. What the f*ck was this truck driver doing here and why was he stating the obvious?

“Yeah I know, I can see him,” I said as politely as I could.

“I bet there’s an animal back in there!” he exclaimed.

No shit.

I opened the car door and called Dewey’s name to no avail. It was time to take action. I attempted to make my way into the woods and promptly got caught in the sticker bushes. As in, the hood of my hoodie was literally attached to the thorns and I was on my knees yelling, “Help, I’m stuck!” Kelly had to come recue me. She finally pried me loose, thorn by thorn, and I embarked on my capture mission.

And the truck driver took it upon himself to commentate the entire time like he was a sportscaster and this was March Madness.

“Oh there he is!”

“He’s killing something back there! I know he got hold of an animal!”

“Oh snap! Look at him go!”

It got so bad, Kelley had to interject with a “Sir, can you please stop saying that?”

I was running around in the woods, trying not to fall, mumbling obscenities, and I finally got close enough to get a good look at Dewey and saw what I had been afraid of: he was dripping blood from the mouth like some kind of vampire werewolf hybrid (take that, Twilight).

I didn’t know if he had killed an animal that quickly and dove right in or just found a bloody carcass and decided to motorboat it. Whatever it was, it made me spring into action even more and finally lasso him with his leash and bring him back to the car.

There was blood on his paws and face and of course, dripping from his mouth.

“Ash, do you want a baby wipe?” Kelley called out. The truck driver had offered it to her.

I don’t even remember if or how I responded to that ridiculousness. And I don’t even want to know why that truck driver had baby wipes on hand.

I left Dewey with Kelley and walked back into the gas station for a jug of water so I could attempt to clean off my bloody dog. While I was paying, who came up beside me but the truck driver, still chuckling from the incident. I was just glad he found it so amusing. Then he actually put his hand on my shoulder and said, “That was one of the funniest things I’ver ever seen.”

I was stunned. Mostly because he was physically touching me. But at least I could assume his hands were clean from the baby wipes.

When I finally got Dewey to calm down from his killing spree and drink, his mouth was blood-free, and most of the blood came off of his face and paws. Luckily he didn’t smell like animal guts or the remaining 6 hours in the car would not have been pleasant.

I learned a lot from this experience:
Hold Dewey’s leash tight at all times, especially while out-of-state at a gas station.
If a truck driver is being obnoxious, he most likely has a baby wipe you can borrow.
And lastly….no matter how crazed you are, don’t forget to take a photo of your dripping-blood-from-the-mouth dog for your blog.

Sorry guys, this will just have to do.

 

 

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