So, today Voltaire had his appointment at the Doggie Salon for a bath, some attention for his bummy, and a new bandana.
My ride shows up, and Voltaire and I climb in. It’s raining here. A lot. Like, tonnes. No worries - I got picked up right at my door, I’m being dropped off right by the Doggie Salon, I might get a bit damp, but that’s it.
So we arrive at the Doggie Salon. Driver pulls in a side street so he’s out of the flow of traffic, and Voltaire and I hop out to go to the salon. Except it’s not there. And we walk up and down the street where it’s supposed to be. And it’s still not there.
After about 5 minutes, I call the salon and say “Uh, I have an appointment, and I can’t find you guys.” So the woman asks where I am, and I tell her, and she starts giving me directions to an address about 20 blocks away.
“Um, did you guys move?” sez I.
“Why yes! In January!” sez she.
Great - thanks for telling me when I booked, lady.
So, Voltaire and I climb back into the car. I’m soaked. He’s soaked. He’s also dirty and smelly, which is why he’s going to the Doggie Salon. So now I have a dirty, smelly, wet dog on my lap.
I dropped him off at 9:15 this morning. It’s now just about 2:00 PM, my pants are still soaked, my shoes are soaked and I smell like a dirty, smelly, wet dog.