it's biblical.

i vaguely remember my mom taking me to one of those free clinics when i was younger. my memory is pretty fuzzy about the whole thing, because i tend to black-out bad memories (like 7th grade) so i can't really recall WHY we were at the clinic. maybe we were going because i was sick? she was sick? um...maybe it wasn't even a free clinic really...it may have just been in a bad part of town and LOOKED free what with all the crickets on the floor and the lack of english used in the lobbies....but whatever. i am trying to paint a picture here. just go with it.

in fact, let me embellish:

when i was little, i was dying of some rare disease so my mom took me to Juarez, Mexico to a free clinic...and the entire experience has scarred me for life. the rare disease, however...i can't recall...but the clinic. man...i won't forget that...

and that is pretty much how Duncan is probably feeling about me today. to save a few bucks, i decided to take him to the free clinic to get fixed. the local SPCA is literally 2 miles from my house, and i live in a really nice area...so...i don't know what i was thinking...that this place would be a palace? They charge pennies to snip his marbles off and i thought we would be greeted with champagne and those fancy dog biscuits from those silly dog stores that are in Snider Plaza? sometimes i wonder why i don't think things through properly.

have you ever been to the spca? it's....dirty. and smells of cat urine and pain. you can hear 75 little dogs screaming from the back rooms and the cats. my god...so many cats....

Duncan knew something was up because he started getting sick in the car on the way to the SPCA. i fully believe that little goblin can read my mind, and he knew i was about to deceive him royally. And when we walked into the dog/torture chamber, i could feel him begin to hate me...much like i fictionally hated my mother for taking me to that fictional free clinic in mexico.

i have become increasingly overdramatic in the recent years. i don't know if it is for shock-value or entertainment sake so much, but i get so squeamish these days and also i have such VIVID dreams...so i realize what i say here is as 100% ridiculous as it sounds, but i am worried. like...motherly worried. i dreamt last night that christopher made me electrocute Duncan and so today when i handed him over to the SPCA, i began to worry about all sorts of things:

1. what if they accidentally put him up for adoption?
2. what if he becomes crippled?
3. what if he is sick tonight and i have to stay home and not go to that party i was so looking forward to going to?
4. what if the teeth bleaching stuff i use makes my teeth permanently sensitive?

But mostly, like my lack of memory of my fictional rare fatal disorder, i wonder if Duncan is going to miss his boy bits when he chases his tail from now on.....