Tazers and Nuggets

Today, I decided to take the kids rock climbing. It sounded good in my head. Sort of like the way, “Hey, I think I’ll poke this wild animal” sounds good until you do it.

While scrambling to load the gear, I noticed the three dogs (Tebby, Ollie and the neighbor’s dog, Sonny) staring at me. Tebby told me that they needed a walk and that they would like to chase small animals amongst the rocks, so I put them in the car along with leashes, and told Tebby not to speak English anymore because it creeps me out. I pulled out of the driveway with the puker (Ollie) already looking green, the crotch clawer (Tebby) trying to get on my head to get a better view of rabbits, and the elephant (Sonny) in the way-back drooling on the seat and blocking my rear view.

I made it to the schools, found my children, and made sure both of them had their backpacks and shoes (you’d be surprised). When we got rolling again there was an extra boy in the back, but I knew him and he didn’t appear to be there against his will, so I kept driving.

The first comment was, “I’m hungry AND thirsty.” This was solved by a stop at the place that sells Little Debbies alongside RockStar, cigarette lighters, and hats that say, “Who Farted?”

Nutritional needs met, we drove to the USFWS parking lot to meet the family we were going to climb with. I let the dogs out next to a sign, which read, “Dogs Must Be On Leash” and started digging for the leashes. I found the leashes just as Sonny proceeded to leave a massive poo on the beautiful grass. I had no poop bags, and even if I did, that thing would not have fit. Luckily, my daughter was able to yell loud enough for Idaho to hear, “Dad, Sonny is pooping on the grass… you need to pick it up!” I smiled at the nice couple walking by who were trying to melt me with their stare, and tried to go to my happy place.

Soon enough the other family pulled up and we loaded the dogs and drove to the crags, leaving the poop and the leashes behind. We pulled off the road next to the trail to the climbing area, and I searched for the leashes. I thanked Karma for being kinder than I deserved, and started to let the dogs loose just as a cop pulled a car over a few yards down the road. My son, being a well-mannered child yelled, “Dad, can we go see if he gets Tazered?”

We waited a few minutes to see if the cop would leave so that we could head up the trail sans dog-of-leash citation, but it became apparent that the fellow who got pulled over was dead drunk and definitely a Tazer candidate. At this crossroads, I did what any responsible father would do in the same circumstance… I let the dogs out of the car and yelled, “Run kids!” and headed for the trail.

We didn’t stop running until we were safely in the woods. The last thing I saw over my shoulder was a wobbly guy, with his eyes closed (not touching his nose with his finger), and a cop watching three loose dogs chasing 5 children into the woods.

At the crag, we set up ropes and told the kids to climb on. While I belayed my daughter, who was 50’ up the rock, I spotted Sonny staring at us from the cliff edge 100’ above us. As the others discussed the possible super powers that allowed him to get up there, I was wondering how mad my neighbors were going to be and how much family counseling would cost if Sonny decided to come down the quick way.

Sonny made it back down without a helicopter rescue, and it was getting dark, so we packed up and left. I took my car load to a place where dirty, loud children are always welcome: McDonalds.

As I was practicing my “I’m not here” look in the booth, my son looked across the table at me with a French fry perched between his nose and upper lip, like a cartoon mustache and said, “I need more food, father.” Ignoring the mustache and the fact that he has never called me “father” before, I got him some Chicken McNuggets to go, while I listened to him and his friend making up new and interesting nicknames for their testicles.

With nuggets, dogs, nicknames, and kids in the car, we finished the trip just in time for bed. While the kids sawed logs, I fed two of the dogs, but Tebby was not to be found. After a frantic 30-minute search, which included waking up and interrogating the incoherent children, I decided to retrace my steps since pulling into the garage. This led me to the Subaru where I discovered Tebby, who had been left in the car… with the McNuggets that my son “needed”. So, instead of dog food, Tebby got nuggets, paper bag, and BBQ sauce for dinner. I had just fed this stuff to my children, yet I worried that the dog would get sick. Hmmmm.

At 10:00, with clean up done, I flopped on my bed, but something was still bugging me. Why didn’t either of the boys say anything about McNuggets when they were making up nicknames for their testicles? It seems so obvious.