Old news

I've realized that blogging whilst traveling is not my thing. Margann and I were so busy running around all day every day during our trip that by the time I made it back to the hotel the thought of slogging my way through the internets on THE SLOWEST WIRELESS KNOWN TO MAN* was really quite exhausting. Also, these days usually ended with us flopping half-starved into a restaurant at 8pm and ordering wine that disappeared before the actual food arrived... I'm sure I don't need to go into the details of the remarkably um, powerful effects of alcohol on an empty stomach and a travel worn body. Suffice it to say, I was in no right state for blogging.

*Seriously, practically dial-up I swear. I have technology issues or something. That's the only way to explain the fact I could not bear to be parted from my iPhone, iPad, AND MacBook even for the space of a couple weeks (also a testament to the fact that my laptop is in no imminent danger of being replaced by my iPad). Anyway, I'd be trying to open some super important (like, vital) page, willing it to open with the powers of my mind, and think "Hey, while that's loading I'm going to just open a new tab and check out this other super important website...but wait, THE INTERNET ISN'T WORKING!!" That would happen over and over again. It was like I literally couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I couldn't go on the internet. I guess I have gotten used to fiber optic internet. Yeah, fiber optic in Dorridge. See if you can wrap your head around THAT.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Something terrible happened in Dorridge Park before we left.

Hey, that's me! Looking so happy! Obviously, the terrible thing has not happened yet. Margann and I are walking, enjoying the beautiful-ness of the park at this time of year. A couple minutes after this we walked through the small patch of forest ahead and came out in a small field (still Dorridge park). This field borders on privately owned land although it really isn't visible because there is a pretty dense hedge between the two. So, we're walking. The same way we've walked a thousand times since we moved here. All of the sudden Sascha disappears inside the hedge. I can hear her messing around but I can't see her and she's never done this before so I'm wondering what the hell is going on. Then, Plato disappears too. What the hell. I call them with my mean voice but they don't respond and at this point I can't even hear them. Dude, give me a break. If there is one thing you should know it is that even though I love the nuts, the nuts know that when mama uses the mean voice You Betta Listen. By this point, they're getting the mean voice up the wazoo and they're not listening and I am PISSED. With a certain measure of dramatic flair (as later described by Margann who thankfully refrained from laughing at the time) I slammed the bag of poo and leash I was holding onto the ground and marched through the hedge (and over the barbed wire fence) into the neighboring field.

The field looks pretty much exactly like the one I just left and I can see a large manor house in the distance. The dogs are running huuuuge circles and figure eights around the field. Normal craziness X 1000000. Off the charts. Sascha is in the lead and Plato is in uncharacteristically hot pursuit, making these sorta fearsome snarling noises. They are completely unaware of my presence (despite all the marching and use of the mean voice and whatnot) which, in addition to pissing me off, is kind of terrifying. Suddenly, I realize that Sascha has something in her mouth, something that Plato very clearly wants to get his own mouth on. I manage to get a little closer. Um yeah, it's a freshly decapitated bunny rabbit. You know, like one of these. Sascha has it by the neck and the body is hanging out of her mouth, bouncing around. There's blood. Little adorable bunny buh-lood dripping from my Sascha's mouth. I think my shrieking must have distracted her for a millisecond because Plato finally caught up and there they are, two feet away from me, playing a disgusting, blood-crazed game of tug. Obviously, they're both too big for me to deal with at the same time so I grab Plato's collar and attempt to strangle knock some sense into him. This proves completely ineffectual and the tug of war doesn't end until Plato manages to RIP THE DAMN LEG OFF and swallow it whole. While he's busy licking the blood from his chops, I grab Sascha by the scruff of her neck. She's gnawing the now headless and footless bunny body and seems to have no interest in relinquishing it. I'm contemplating the horrifying possibility that I may have to somehow wrench her mouth open and pull it out myself (because I am SOOO NOT going to stand there and wait for her to finish eating it) when she comes to her senses and drops it.

I don't have their leashes (Margann is standing on the other side of the hedge with them) so I drag the dogs not so gently by their collars and shove them through the barbed wire fence (oh what's that you say dogs? it isn't as fun going back this way? I'm ever so sorry) where Margann found us - me sweating and shaking and the dogs panting with their big bloody tongues hanging out. And bloody dog lips, whatever those are called.


In hindsight, the idea of the dogs killing a bunny and playing with the body doesn't bother me so much. Dogs, even if they are the cutest, bestest dogs in the world, are still animals. Jeff found the story quite amusing when I told him (and, in fact, it was exceedingly amusing watching Plato struggle valiantly to excrete what was very obviously a bunny foot the next day), but I can assure you he would absolutely not have been laughing if he had been there. In fact, his shrieking may have distracted them from their bloodlust a lot sooner. I'm telling you. It was disgusting.

And then I hopped on a plane to Rome! More on that to come.