Y’all, it’s been one hell of a day.

I got a message on Facebook saying that a bunch of cats had been spotted near the recycling center a few blocks from my house. There was even a grey cat spotted! Yay, a lead!

So Jon and I went down there, armed with his favorite treats and some wet food. Unfortunately today was trash day, so there were loud garbage trucks picking up trash on the streets picking up trash on the streets that run along this area, and there were lots of people dropping off recycling for tomorrow’s pickup. Still we looked, and nothing. We left some wet food anyway and vowed to come back when it was darker and quieter.

By this time it was getting close to dinner, and we were discussing what to have. Enter Gidget, my rescue hound.

Now one thing you need to know about Gidget is that she’s the sweetest, most gentle, drama-free dog ever. In the nearly 6 years we’ve had her, she hasn’t been sick a single day. So what happened next really freaked us out.

While we were discussing dinner plans, she came barrelling into the room, jumped on the couch, and started panting. I assumed evening zoomies, but noooooooo. She started shaking and then vomited all over the couch. She continued to shake so I took her outside, where she then had a lot of diarrhea. Now I was really freaking out.

Back inside she continued to shake and wobble when she walked. I had a Beagle named Warren who was epileptic, so I feared the worst. I called Kelsey (my sister) and told her what was up. I asked if she would go with me to the emergency vet in case I needed to carry Gidget, and she said of course.

After I hung up, Gidget threw up again. And it was just so much.

After cleaning up that mess, we went to our rooms to change. And that’s when the second round of fuckery started. You see, as I was walking out of my bedroom, I saw two grey tabbies. Simone and….Teddy.

He sauntered past me like “‘Sup?” and went to the litter box like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t just spent four fucking days looking everywhere for him, hanging fliers, making social media posts, offering a reward, and turning this house inside out to find him.

Nope, he just takes a pee and then goes to his usual treat begging spot. The audacity.

But he got the treats because I’m not a monster.

I didn’t have time to deal with him, though, because I had to get Gidget to the vet which is 30 minutes from my house.

On the drive there, we start trying to troubleshoot what could be wrong with Gidget, and then Jon remembered that she got into the trash last night and ate a three day old sloppy joe. Hounds, man.

So we spent $500 to be told our dog had an upset stomach. She’s now snoozing on the couch, higher than pterodactyl tits from the meds they gave her, with zero concern for the drama she caused.

Teddy had been in our house the whole time. He must have been coming out when we were asleep or not home because he’s perfectly fine. And I still have no idea where in this tiny apartment he could have hidden for that long! When I tell you we looked everywhere, I’m not exaggerating. I even checked the dryer knowing damn well his little legs couldn’t take him that far.

And now I’m curled up with Simone, eating Taco Bell, and wondering why the hell my life is a sitcom some days.