As it turns out, no easy task!
My good friend Listen Linda arrived for my home warming party the day before the BIG blowout, with five absolutely gorgeous handmade, heavy denim blankets for the homeless. These blankets were made by her 88 year old male friend; he has made and donated over 200 blankets in the Maritimes provinces. There are GOOD people in this world, aren't there? So Linda arrived with this big heavy bag of blankets, an address and a mission, "Deliver to the needy".
It was a beautifully warm Friday afternoon, (for once), so off we went. On the way to the address in question, she spotted a homeless person. We decided a personal delivery would be a good thing. As it turns out, it took us so long to get the pedestrian sign at the crosswalk, that our friend in need could easily have had time to find another address, according to Linda!
The recipient was grateful. He shook her hand and thanked her. We took forever to cross again at the lights. Two doors up was the Salvation Army door, which was the address Linda had been given. I knew there wasn't a shelter there, right on the main drag, but in we went. The poor woman at the counter did NOT understand that we had blankets to donate. It didn't matter what language we spoke. She decided we needed to speak to the "Major", so she called him (or her) and handed the phone to Linda. Linda is trying to explain to this person, whom she doesn't understand, and they don't understand HER, our blanket situation, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. A kind, young mother, whose child recognized me as a teacher, gave me the directions to the shelter, not once, but TWICE, being ever so helpful. I try to get Linda off the phone, gracefully, since she is getting nowhere with the person at the other end of the line. Thank goodness for people eavesdropping (LOL) on phone conversations. Linda could STILL be talking to that Major.
When I give her the directions, she busts a gut laughing because one of the streets isn't "Halfass", but it SOUNDS like it. Of course, we couldn't find that shelter, even with directions, without stopping three times to ask for directions. We arrive, only to find it closed.
Someone would be in in ten minutes, we were told, so we decided to wait. There was NO way we were going to try to do this ALL OVER AGAIN Saturday morning. I had persuaded Linda to bring the heavy bag with her, so she wouldn't have to go back to the car. So poor Linda lugs the big bag of blankets back to the car. By this time, we have been gone almost an hour. We can't see the entrance where we are parked, so we turn around and park on the other side of the street, only to hear a woman on her doorstep yelling, and yelling! I roll my window and ask her if she is yelling at US. She says "No". We settle in, and in a few minutes a young man shows up. We get out of the car once again, and leaving the windows down a bit for Vimy to have air, lug out the blankets AGAIN, and get the young man's attention.
Of course, wouldn't you know it, Vimy bounds out of the car window! We are in a large common area, with the road nearby. I don't have his leash. I didn't know this mission was going to turn into an oddyssey! I try to grab him and carry him, since I don't want him running where he shouldn't, nor scaring any children. I pick him up, but he weighs 40 pounds, all pure muscle, and he easily wiggles out of my arms.
Meanwhile, Linda is talking to the young man about the blankets, and making arrangements. I try to keep an eye and hand on Vimy but it is hard. We conclude our transaction, FINALLY, and start walking back to the car, when I feel wet on my feet and legs. I am wearing a jean skirt and Mary Janes on my feet. Vimy has just PISSED all over my feet and legs! EVEN my Mary Janes were wet!
I don't know how that happened. There wasn't a post or bush around. I must have gotten in his way somehow. My phone rings and I answer, "My dog just pissed all over me. What do you want?" Of course, by now I am highly, highly indignant. I also know the caller is my baby bro. Linda? She never stopped laughing all the way back to her car, saying "Only you!"
So now I have the dubious distinction of having had my dog relieve himself on me.
Honestly! I was told I must have squeezed his bladder when I picked him up. I don't know about that, but I will give my pooch, whom I adore, the benefit of the doubt!
Plus, mission accomplished!
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