The Mom always gets a bit funny around dogs. Well, actually around any kind of snuggly, cuddly, pet-like creature. Even if it’s not actually a pet. She’ll take a snugly wild animal and turn it into what we like to call an outdoor pet, anywhere, anytime. This is in no way a challenge to her. She’s nearly domesticated 30 mallard ducks, so really, she’s on board for anything.
But recently I got an email with a lot of exclamation marks, which meant that either Something Awful was afoot, or she’d just found the Best Thing Ever. Thankfully, it was the latter.
Apparently, one can now order up puppies on demand. According to sources, which for me is The Mom’s sketchy recollection of a TV show she saw first thing in the morning, if you live in America (she didn’t specify which state) you can phone up an Uber and a short while later, your home (or I suppose office place) is besieged with puppies.
All of which brings up an interesting idea to me: The Mom is frequently lamenting how she’s a bit lonely around the edges now that L’il Sis and Crazy D have moved out of the house. She’s at loose ends, you see.
Which brings to mind a rather good idea, I think. Perhaps it’s time The Mom became an Uber puppy driver. She has excellent experience chauffeuring people and dogs around, is more than able to cope with a bit of pee or vomit.
I can imagine her, turning up on her first day of work. She’d get her first call and go to the puppy depot to pick up her car load of puppies.
“Oooohhh!” she’d shriek. “Look at them!”
This would be followed by her getting down on the floor, and letting all the puppies charge her, climb on her, and generally do puppy things.
All of them, The Mom and the puppies, would at this point be so blissed out that someone would pee. Probably not The Mom, but one never knows. A carload of puppies might push her over the edge.
She would wrangle them into the car, picking them up, and putting them in their seats, buckling them in and arranging any kind of blankets required in a suitably comfy arrangement.
She would climb into the pilot’s seat of her SUV and start the engine.
“Alright, troops,” she’d say. “Your mission is to bring joy and peace to the world. We’re starting with Mr. Martin who has not had a good time of it lately. His wife’s been put in a home, poor thing, and he needs cheering up stat!”
She would then put the music on. I imagine she’d put some horrible Michael Bolton CD on, though I would prefer it if she popped in an old Jane’s Additicion CD we have, and select the track for Been Caught Stealin’, which she’s always loved as it starts with the sound of dogs barking. We used to play it on the way to high school a lot, and she’d bark along with us, and the music.
Barking and singing as they went, they’d peel out of the suburbs, only to be thwarted by the ridiculous construction that’s taking over my hometown.
“Goddamnit!” she’d curse. “Sorry,” she’d then say to the puppies, as their noses smeared every surface available. “New route,” she’d announce.
They’d drive around for a while, in search of a road that went in the direction they wanted, until such point as The Mom became completely flummoxed, and being as she has no SatNav, no mobile phone with GPS, and no readable or useful maps in the car, at this point she would ‘intuit’ the route. Which is a habit she has that is as infuriating as it is accurate.
They would arrive at Mr. Martin’s house – or whoever’s it doesn’t matter – and she would unload her precious cargo, and bring them to the door.
At this point, I fear The Mom would go a bit rogue. Having spent the better part of half an hour in the car with the puppies, she would now be completely bonded with them, know all their names, and have developed a fairly intricate backstory for each of them.
Into the house they would all go, The Mom not caring a hoot at all that as the driver she’s meant to not go in and also play with the puppies. The Mom, being an only child, doesn’t really get the whole thing about sharing one’s toys. And as the driver, I believe she would feel that these puppies are hers. She would let whomever play with them, sure, but after their allotted time, and not a second more, they’d be back in the car.
After having cheered Mr. Martin up, obviously the puppies would be exhausted (never mind that puppies are rarely exhausted, The Mom would at this point have anthropomorphised them to such an extent that they would be functioning versions of her own personality, therefore an ice cream treat would be required. Off to the Dairy Queen they’d go. Or maybe a Tim Horton’s for doughnuts. Maybe both. It’s hard to say. The excitement of the day would be all consuming at this point.
Full of sugar and late for their next appointment, The Mom would speed over to the next house, and so on and so forth, until both The Mom and the puppies were suffering from a sugar crash and in desperate need of a nap.
The Mom would ignore all phone calls from Uber Puppy HQ, take the lot of them back to the house, and bring them upstairs for a good long nap in her nest.
It’s at this point that she would be relieved of her job, but being The Mom, she would be okay with that, as long as she got to keep the puppies.
So that, when I arrive home in a few weeks for Christmas, there will be a fleet of puppies in situ, and I’ll be sleeping on the couch. At L’il Sis’.