Oh. My. God. Do you know those things that hook to the back of bicycles? They’re, like, made of mesh and they zip up and you usually see cute, sleeping, little children inside of it? Well, have you ever seen a 90-pound golden retriever inside one? You haven’t? Well, if you were near Santa Barbara, California yesterday, you just might have
So yesterday morning, we walk past a bike rental place with our dog (her name’s Rosey: she’s such a sweetheart) and my 13-year old sister decides that it would be a fabulous idea if the dog rode in one of those while we go bike riding. Not so fabulous. Somehow, the rest of the family agrees, and we rent some bikes and proceed to cram the 90 POUND GOLDEN RETRIEVER into this little mesh box- thing (I don’t even know what shape it is- almost like an oblong circle) which is about as big as the inside of a washing machine, on wheels.
So we set off and my sister is laughing at some joke my dad said, we’re all riding single file like some cute little family (not even kidding, it almost feels like the catchy Seinfeld theme song is playing over our heads that’s how happy we are) but below the happy theme music, the laughter, the sound of sunshine; the poor dog is whining like a banshee and she look like a sausage wrapped in fishing net, she’s so squished in that little mesh washing machine. And then she starts to paw at the mesh. And she continues to paw at it until (yup, you guessed it) she’s got a good enough hole to squeeze half her body out of the washing machine. As we’re crossing the street. So half her body is out of the box, but the other half is still stuck, and as she’s trying to get out her nose keeps getting smacked by the tire of the bike in front of her. In the middle of the road. Cars are whizzing by and half of her body is trying to climb out; now little kids on the sidewalk are laughing and pointing at the funny doggy and my dad is trying to stop the bike, but cars are still whizzing by and no one knows what to do and it was just utter chaos.
But no, no, it just gets better and better. So now we reach the other side of the road the dog manages to finally wiggle the rest of her body out and we put her leash on. There’s a little bit of silence for a few moments, and then my brilliant sister (the same one who suggested to bring the dog in the first place, pipes up and says, “Let’s put her in again!” And do you know what my dad does? He AGREES with her brilliant plan! He AGREES and we still have three more streets ahead of us! So we cram the poor thing back in her little washing machine and ignore the gaping hole and start to cross the next street. Well, now there’s not even any whining she just climbs out of the box in the middle of the street. My sister starts screaming even though no cars are coming, my dad’s got this look on face as his brain probably struggles with the decision to either keep pedaling and leave us all behind, or get off the bike and try to catch the dog who is now galloping in freedom across the tiny highway.
Needless to say, our adventure (and happy-family time) ended with a 50 dollar repair fee for the torn washing-machine-made-of- mesh-thing, Rosey returned to the hotel with a nose scuffed up with bicycle wheel tracks and a trip to the convenience store-omigod! This is almost like those mastercard commercials! Here we go everybody:
Cost of repair fee for the torn washing-machine-made-of- mesh-thing: Fifty dollars.
Cost of gas to return the slightly injured retriever back to the hotel: Two dollars and fifty cents (I just made that up: I don’t know how much it was)
Cough drops for the sister with the sore throat because she screamed too much: 3 dollars and 23 cents.
Happy family time with catchy theme music and laughter: priceless.