Pets, Fireworks, Parades and Allergies

I spent the last three days house/pet sitting for a good friend of mine. I've never had a pet. Not even a pet rock. My roommate has a fish, who hangs out in a tank in the bathroom threatening any guests who go in there, but she takes care of him. I just tease him. “Hey, fish, whatcha doin'? You want a piece of this? Hu? Come out here and get it!” Oh, sorry, back to my point. Pets are like kids. I play with them, get bored with them and then give them back to their owners.

My friend's half-dozen birds, two cats and the dog are adorable, but I was all too happy to pack up my stuff this morning and get back to my non-pet hair infested apartment. (The fish doesn't shed much) I get killer allergies with pet hair—I kinda forgot about it when I agreed to hang out with the pets—so after three nights my sinuses are so clogged that I may as well have a summer cold along with RSV. Not to mention the lack of sleep due to the fact that all non-caged animals have bells around their necks so you can hear them coming. And I heard them coming . . . all night long. Good thing she doesn't have any bunny rabbits. If I had to have a mortal enemy, it would be bunny hair. Don't tell anyone.

Last night was the Bountiful 24th of July parade. Our apartment is right along the route. I managed to sneak home to drop some stuff off and get back to the pets before they completely blocked us in for three hours. Last year I had to park my car two blocks away and then walk to it so I could get to Kempo class. Okay, if I was really cool I would have just walked to class, but I'm not all that. Not in the black outfit and bag full of Kempo gear. Now I'm whining again. I'll stop. Wait, nope, I forgot. The dog thought all of the fireworks last night were people knocking on the door. Took me opening the door and showing her to convince her it was safe to go to bed. Now I'm finished.

This morning I helped out with the Salt Lake City Day's of '47 parade. One girl, about eight years old, was looking at the volunteer shirts and asked if we were going to be doing this for 47 days. Good question. At 5:00am anything (except sleep) feels about 47 days long. I thought there might be a fight to the death (which I'm good with) over one of the float awards. Sadly it was resolved without violence. Maybe next year, for any tie breakers, two people will have to Indian leg wrestle for the win! I'll suggest that.