Sunday night, it suddenly became known to us, by way of announcement via Rachel, that our freezer had failed us. Sometime between Thursday and Sunday, it ceased to harden our ice cream, and prolong the life of raw meat.
So, on Monday, when I could have been cheerfully chatting with all of you, I was instead cleaning out our storage room where the freezer used to live so we could give it a proper burial and replace it with a newer, shinier, more energy efficient appliance. I also was cleaning out the defunct freezer, and figuring out how to get the old one out and the new one in, while trying to cook and or save as much as possible. (Don’t worry, I was super critical and had a thermometer on hand for checking anything that had begun to defrost)
In the old freezers defense, it was given to us over 10 years ago, by Blair’s parents. They purchased it new from Montgomery Ward’s in about 1982. It has frozen and preserved hundreds, maybe thousands of cartons of ice cream, bags of garden zucchini, and several sides of beef. Not to mention all of the popsicles, vegetables, french fries, cookies, and frozen what-have-you’s that pass through a family’s grocery budget.
As our handy-dandy neighborhood furniture store was driving away with the remains of the decrepit freezer, one of my daycare moms (Hi, J!) was walking up with her dog, to collect her offspring. She lives close enough to me to come home from work, leash her canine compadre and jog on over to daycare.
She and I were chatting about pets, and kids, on my front porch while her 3 yr old daughter was putting on shoes and collecting her personal crapola.
all of a sudden her
dog
spotted
My Cat.
The dog, who had been placidly lolling on my mat, leaped into action, and sprinted into the house, his leash zipping through J’s hands. She began grabbing frantically at thin air and then also sprang into the house after the bolting bow-wow. He eyed the cat flying down the stairs and followed suit.
(Here’s where it get REALLY interesting)
J vaulted from mid living room onto the back section of the dog. This did not slow him down. The dog raced down the stairs with J flapping behind him like…I don’t even know WHAT the h&*^ it was like…
A kite?
A mane?
A dog dragging a grown (albeit tiny..5’2 maybe around 100 lbs?) woman approaching 30 down my stairs?
It defies description.
Ok, the dog jumped from about the 3rd step up to round the corner into the family room and J got a foothold and tackled him at the bottom. This stopped him.
Lest you think I was doing nothing during this time, I would like to say that I was in fact yelling down the stairs to my kids
GET THE CAT!!!
GET THE CAT!!!
(helpful, yes?)
Blair had already raced down the stairs and reports that the cat, who should have been cowering in terror under a bed, was fluffed up to 3x’s his normal size and had turned to face the beast, preparing for what he probably thought would be him kicking the dog’s A**.
J reports that the cat’s look could be put into these words:
Bring. It. On.
Blair shoveled the hissing cat into a bedroom and shut the door. J walked her now completely docile, happy, dog back up the stairs and out the front door.
She says she’s fine, just a bit of rug burn.
No kidding. Ahem.
I would just like to know how I have so many dog stories when I don’t own a dog.
By the way, the new freezer is working fabulously:)
