So this room-service elevator situation pretty much seals the deal that there’s no way we can possibly leave the dogs in the hotel room and attend the wedding rehearsal dinner. And honestly, I don’t think we ever truly thought it possible from the get-go. But where there may have been a wee sliver of hope, now there is none.
Herman can’t stop bellowing hysterically, and we quickly decide that our next course of action is for all of us to pile back into the car and get to the church. The rehearsal is set to begin in about half an hour.
Once we’re on the road, Herman settles down, altho’ he still wears his ‘worried face’. Ellie is completely disgruntled that we had to leave the hotel room so soon. The car radio confirms that it’s 98 degrees outside. During the drive to the church, the air conditioner in our car blows a gasket and starts blowing HOT AIR.
Me: “What joy. I am going to fucking kill myself.”
Chris (voice raising): “LOOK. Can you TRY to hold it together? FOR ME?!? I’m getting SICK from this whole situation, and you are making it worse with the COMPLAINING…” He is sweating like crazy. I feel awful.
Me: “Alright, alright. Take it easy, hon. I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”
The church is clear across town. Nice, sweltering drive. I am sucking on ice cubes from my little travel cooler, passing cubes into the back seat for Ellie and Herman. We’re all just sweatin' and slurpin’ and chompin’ away. The city looks like one big white-trash strip mall interspersed with mini-slums. I wedge an ice cube between my boobs, deciding that I hate Albany.
We pull up at the church in the nick of time. Chris dashes inside and I stay with the dogs. Dunno if being parked in front of this huge religious structure has anything to do with it, but miraculously the car A/C kicks in. I give a little prayer of gratitude and tilt my seat back to recline and read the newspaper. After a few moments of whimpering (WHERE DID DADDY GO? I WANT TO GO IN THERE, TOO…) Herman finally (and literally) chills out, thrusting his face toward the A/C vents with a grumbling sigh. Ellie is already napping.
The rehearsal goes for about 45 minutes. I stay slumped in my seat, watching as the church empties. Wow, the bride really does have a huge family. I see Chris explaining to a couple of people that his wife is over there in the car across the street. Their squinty gazes toward me and my dogs (staked out in our beat-up old Hyundai wagon) register puzzlement and incomprehension. I wave pseudo-gaily at these blankly staring faces. Not much feedback with this crew. What can ya do.
Chris climbs into the driver’s seat. “Hey! The air conditioner is working again!”
Me: “Yes. Glory be to God on High. How’d it go in there?”
Chris: “Oh, fine. It’s a freak-show, what else is new. Very scary priest.” He gives a little shudder.
I’ll mention here that me and Chris aren’t what you’d call practicing Catholics. Chris pretty much considers himself an atheist, altho’ he supports and gets into my spiritual leanings often enough. I live by a self-stylized form of devotion that borrows from Buddhism and Native American Earth Worship philosophies.
Me: “You should go to the rehearsal dinner without me. I’ll wait for you back at the hotel with the dogs.”
Chris: “No. We’re all staying together.”
Me: “But you’re in the wedding party…”
Chris: “No.”
Me: “Okay, it’s up to you.” I’m relieved. “Honey…I think I want to go check out the dog kennels.”
Chris: “Now? But we’re only boarding them tomorrow morning.”
Me: “I know. But I wouldn’t mind seeing the place first. I want to go there when they’re not expecting us and see them in action. Is that crazy?”
Chris thinks about it for a second. “No. It’s a good idea. Let’s go.”
* * * * * * * *
Well, the kennel is located in a really beautiful country region outside of town. True to Kennel-Marm MARY’s website photos, here indeed are the green rolling hills and serene pine tree havens. As we pull into the gravel driveway, the incarcerated pooches inside set to baying and howling in frantic unison: Mommy, Daddy…is that you? Have you at last come to rescue me from this place? I feel a stone in the pit of my stomach.
We all get out of the car. Ellie and Herman are both pretty jumpy, no doubt because of the uproar they’re hearing inside the kennels. The front door is locked and we ring the bell. A brunette woman with a cherubic face answers. Perhaps in her early 50’s, sporting a kindly smile. Ahhh, yes…t’is none other than MARY.
MARY is mildly surprised that we have come a day early to see the facility, but she is also understanding: “Of course you’re a little nervous. They’re your babies! And especially since you’ve never boarded them before…” She proceeds to show us around, pointing out the two adjacent stalls that are reserved for Ellie and Herman.
For what feels like the zillionth time, I say: “Now please don’t forget, MARY…I know I sound like a broken record, but I really can’t stress enough how Ellie and Herman MUST be kept in separate enclosures. He’s already getting very high-strung from this whole trip so far, and he will hassle Ellie if he is feeling neurotic…”
She pats my arm: “I know, I remember. I even made special notes in your file. They’ll be fine, please try not to worry.”
The dogs are pulling us to the exit. They have decided that something smells rotten about this whole setup. We bid MARY farewell for now, until 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.
Then we head back to that godforsaken, disgustingly hot and muggy room at Best Western, where we’ll order some shitty room service, watch BLAZING SADDLES on the crappy cable station and try to get some sleep before the BIG DAY.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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