That One Time I Showed My Ass in Nashville

A Memoir Excerpt

Last week, we traveled to Nashville for my mid-year heart checkup. Everything was good, all systems go. But I caught a nasty flu bug during our travels and have been stuck in bed for the past couple days. Today, I decided to share another memoir excerpt because I lack the mental energy to create anything new.

This excerpt is from THREE HEARTED GIRL which is the story of my two heart transplants. This scene is from shortly after I moved to Nashville to live alone with Gidget McFidget until a heart became available.

While we were in Nashville this time, I took a couple pictures of the area where the event occurred so you can better visualize the scene. It was pretty funny, in retrospect.

Excerpt from THREE HEARTED GIRL

During the first week of living alone with Gidget, I tried taking her to the dog run located at the front of the apartment complex. The dog run was located on the sloped area above the ramp leading to underground parking, adjacent to the parking lot shared with the medical building. The dog run measured roughly thirty feet wide and twice as long, rising from street level to an elevation about fifteen feet high above the entrance to the underground car park. Fencing extended around three sides of the run, with the street level side nearest the building left open to serve as the entrance. Residents frequently exercised their dogs off-leash in this area.

Left is the view of the entrance to the underground parking garage, beneath the dog run. Right is a picture of the dog run from the entrance, rising from ground level to a peak of around 15 feet above the parking entrance. The apartment building where I lived appears to the right, and the medical building and parking appears to the left.

One morning around seven, shortly after I moved into the building, I pulled on a hoodie over my pajamas and took Gidget to the dog run. There were no other dogs or humans in sight, so I let her have the full length of the fifteen-foot lead. Despite the fencing, I knew better than to let her run without the leash. Just then, the building’s maintenance supervisor appeared at the opening to the run and said something.

Gidget exploded like he lit a fuse. Screaming like a banshee, she ran at top speed the length of her lead, hurtling toward him like a tiny black rocket of death. She fully intended to taste his blood. Screaming her name, I frantically started reeling her in, hand over hand, trying to get her under control. As I brought her within a few feet of me, she realized her odds of getting away from me were diminishing, and she started jerking herself backwards to get out of her harness.

Gidget McFidget from this time period, standing on the steps in full muscle dog pose.

Running the last few steps toward her, I scooped her up in my arms and held her squirming body against mine as I struggled to control her. She continued to thrash and flail her legs. One of her back paws hooked the waistband of my pajama pants. With a single kick of her tiny leg, my pajamas fell down around my ankles.

There I stood on the highest end of the elevated slope, nude from the waist down, my biscuits and gravy on full display. I froze for a moment, as I realized cars were pulling into the parking lot to start their day at the medical building and lining up to enter the underground parking garage. There I stood, half-naked on a pedestal, directly above the parking entrance while arriving workers gaped at the sight.

Looking down toward the open end of the dog run, the maintenance manager likewise stood with his mouth open in surprise, or horror, as he realized the situation. All the while, Gidget continued to scream and thrash, ensuring that anyone inside the building who had not yet noticed my dilemma would peek out their window to take in the show.

Immediately, I stopped and dropped, trying to get Gidget under control by bear-hugging her with one arm while I flopped around on the dew-slicked grass, struggling to pull up my pants with the other hand. The maintenance supervisor left without telling me what he intended to say.

After this incident, Gidget and I limited her walks to the courtyard.

I hope this put a smile on your face on this beautiful morning in this broken world. Gidget is quite old now and sleeping in her dog bed in front of the fireplace, directly behind my writing desk. I’m probably going back to bed for a while as this bug runs its course.

Take care and have a great week!