Yep, I'm Gonna Talk About Plaid...
It is so, so freeing.
My original plaid jacket (And hot damn, I wish I had a picture) was a gift from the Berry Queen. She was about eight months pregnant with her fifth Berry Baby and angry about her size. She projected these feelings of size onto my birthday gift and as a result, she gifted me with a men's size XL plaid jacket. I loved that jacket, and as time went on, Mal grew to love it as well.
About three weeks ago, I decided to play the role of the good Samaritan. I was driving down the road and there was a woman standing beside a dog that had clearly been hit. I felt bad, swore up and down, and stopped my car.
The woman was also a good Samaritan because she hadn't even hit the dog. The person who hit the dog had driven away. The dog was still alive and was quite docile and quiet and I couldn't see anything visibly wrong with it. The woman went to question the two houses nearest us to no avail.
I decided to make a quick call to the vet's office (Three years of owning an accident prone horse taught me to keep the vet's number always at hand) and asked if we could bring the dog in.
I was standing on the side of the highway with an older woman who had her hair and makeup done and who was wearing heels and a nice outfit. I had no clue as to how to get the dog into her car.
I noticed that the dog was not bleeding or really even dirty at all, so I thought, I know! And I grabbed my plaid jacket, rolled the injured dog onto the jacket so that I could use it as a sling/stretcher. The dog was placed in the back of the car and driven to the vet's office.
Unfortunately, the injuries to the dog must not have really set in until he was transported. Upon getting to the vet's office, myself, my clothing, and my jacket were thoroughly coated with blood.
I fear the worst for the dog as he was in much worse shape when he got to the vet's than when I first saw him on the side of the road. The lady from the vet's office asked me if I wanted my jacket back and said that if I did, i would have to wait as they were working on the dog.
I left without my jacket and spent the rest of the day feeling terrible because someone's dog was hit on the road. I can't imagine how I would feel if my Dixie was hit in such a fashion.
Now my search for the next plaid jacket begins. It has to be a men's XL, it has to be the perfect flannel, it has to have the right color, and it has to be able to endure years of bonfires and other types of redneck debauchery.