Kettle One is for the Dogs

Kettle One is for the Dogs
by Nicole Hanratty

I’m so done. The holidays are over, I can leave my house without worrying about whether or not I need a gift for anyone I’m about to see and I’ve jumped off of the Fall Holiday Wheel of Events that belongs in my nephews’ hamster cage purchased for their birthdays which they promptly returned after realizing hamsters poop.

January brings sanity, a return to my favorite routines and normalcy. We reclaim our weekends from family commitments and holiday cheer; they are once again free for us to use them as we choose.

With 80º weather and sunshine galore, my hubby and I strap ourselves into our freshly cleaned and packed up car so we can hit the open road. With the battles over who gets to drive, where my husband can (or can not) place his barefoot feet and the music selection choice settled, we succumb to the calming vibrations of the piecemeal freeway.

Within minutes of entering the “enjoyable state” of a road trip, the car traveling just ahead of us decides to empty their one-gallon container of windshield wiper fluid in an all-out tidal wave attempt to clean their never-washed-before-bug-filled windshield. Aside from breaking all rules of road etiquette by splashing cars up to a quarter mile behind them and leaving water spots all over my clean car, what’s irritating is you know it doesn’t even work. We’ve all tried it before; in the end it just smears bug guts everywhere.

Then, the dog starts to whine. Did I forget to mention she was strapped into the back seat in her doggy booster? Oh yes, she was. (Tranquilizers and Bonine don’t work for her, so save your email suggestions.) The only thing that quiets her down is Greenday. You think I’m joking but I’m not; our dog is a head-banger. There is nothing like a good verse from American Idiot to get our little pooch to pipe down.

And so the trip goes, with the dog now dictating the music selection and one are-you-kidding me-roll-your-eyes moment after another. Cars that don’t want to drive, windshield wiper fluid flying everywhere, incessant dog whining, and before you know it, I’m missing the cocktail filled holidays. By the time we reached our brunch destination, even our sweet pup was ready for some Kettle One, (Muttropolis Style, of course).

To all of you planning a road trip for this upcoming holiday weekend, I wish you a safe and sane drive.

Au revoir for now...n

Comment from my sister: lol. hampsters don't just poop as you casually give them credit for doing. They poop where they eat INSIDE the food that they eat, they poop where they sleep, they poop while they play on their whirl-a-wheel toys, they poop in front of their mirrors designed to look like a Hamster TV purchased to spice up their hip hamster condos. While doing so, hamsters can be heard saying "Hey, that is me. Maybe I should see what I look like pooping..."