Anything Lime



Too hot to blog

Today marks the ninth day that I’ve been fighting with my property manager about my air conditioning. Kya and I have been stressed out, inconvenienced, living out of hotels and such. Kya’s gotten to a point where she’s fed up with all of this chaos and wants a bit of normalcy back in her life.

I found a great new place for dog daycare, and the location couldn’t be more ideal. It’s on my way to and from work, and it’s about a five minute drive from my office. Even though I can’t be with her, it comforts me to know she is nearby.

Most days I get up, put Kya in the car and make the phone call that’s become a ritual. “Hi, Rick? It’s Whitney again. Have room for Kya today?” And, knowing about the air conditioning situation, he always greets us with, “I’m really sorry to see you here.” Which, under any other circumstances would be highly inappropriate.

At the end of the days, I head into the daycare, smiling, and excited to see my little baby girl. I always find her in the same place — curled up on the couch snuggling with Rick. He turns on some movies and hangs out in the playroom with the dogs while Kya chemically fuses herself to his body. I come in and see that she’s completely at ease while she’s with him. She walks around wagging while he hands me my bill and the little baggie of food I packed for her but she refused to eat. We walk out to door to the sound of Rick’s voice saying, “Bye Kya, I love you!” and we both saunter toward the car, knowing the worst is yet to come.

We walk into our muggy apartment and Kya immediately begins to pant like she’s in a desert, which, given the current state of our apartment, I can’t blame her. I make a few phone calls most of which are neither answered nor returned. Then I finally get fed up with watching television in my underwear and profusely sweating while consuming popsicles by the box, meanwhile Kya is covered in cold, wet towels, eating ice cubes and panting like the dickens. Nine days of this.

Without going into the messy details of my AC fiasco, the basic story is my unit is broken, my property manager is a flake wad and it’s been a constant battle with her to try to get this thing fixed. It’s never her fault, she says, but always the fault of the warranty company or the insurance company, or the contractor. Sometimes it’s because the parts are unavailable or other strings of bullshit. Patrick got a hold of her FINALLY by pressing *67 before dialing her number. It’s nice to know that she’ll answer restricted calls, but won’t answer for either of us when there’s an emergency with our apartment. Then when she does call us, she’s all, “What? It’s not fixed?” And I’m like, “Oh wait, yes. It is. I’m sorry, I thought that when the thermostat said 96 degrees it meant the AC was broken. I am wrong, and YOU, on the other hand, YOU deserve a Nobel Prize.”

Last night, rather than paying for night in a hotel, we went to Stratton’s. She has two dogs of her own: Paco, a chihuahua mix whose aggression is driven by love, and Nena, a pitbull with a big smile and a big heart to match.

Kya was, let’s just say, not in the mood for making new friends. And she didn’t make the situation easier on herself by letting the stress get to her. She woke me up four times throughout the night. FOUR TIMES! This dog only needs to pee twice a week and felt it necessary to stare at my face and grunt until I finally gave in one time. FINE! So we headed out.

The whole time I was sneaking around the house I was in fear for my life. Not because they live in a bad neighborhood, not because there are land mines planted under their front lawn, but because I envisioned Stratton’s live-in ninja mistaking me for an intruder and snapping my neck. Thankfully, I made it out alive. (and with a bottle of the best smelling lotion I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.)

The drive from Stratton’s far-away land was much more pleasant than I’d anticipated. I didn’t hit any traffic and I made it to work early. I pulled into Winter Park Pet Villa and realized I’d forgotten to call ahead. After all the kindness this man has shown me (like the groom he gave Kya the other day which looks FABULOUS!) I repay him by showing up unannounced.

“Oh! I’m so sorry you’re here!”

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Comments

  1. * Stratton says:

    He’s more than just a live-in ninja, Whitney. I’m marrying this ninja…someday.
    Paco and Nena send their love.

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 4 months ago


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