One of these days I'll learn my lesson

Apparently I am a glutton for punishment, having not learned my lesson the last time I took the furbabies to the groomers. That, or I'm simply dumber than a box of rocks. Take your pick.

The dogs were in desperate need of grooming and seeing as how my time as a Lady of Leisure is drawing to a close, I sucked it up and made an appointment for this afternoon. If you will recall from our last grooming adventure, car rides with my wee ones are about as fun as having your teeth drilled sans Novocaine.

The puppies can always tell when I'm getting ready to leave the house. Mostly because I put on real clothes (as opposed to my daily uniform of track suits) and am wearing more than basic lipstick. If they are so lucky as to be allowed out of the house with you when you look 'ready' to go somewhere, they will run immediately to the driver side door of the car and wait to be let in.

Oliver in passenger seat. Check.
Lola in lap. Check.
Wallet in pocket. Check.
Leashes in car. Check.
Keys in ignition. Check.

Just as I move to close the driver side door, Lola chooses that exact moment to leap to her death out of the car. Hello? You just spent the last fifteen minutes driving me bat crazy trying to get into the car. And just my luck, I totally caught her tiny body in the car door. She let out the most terrifyingly shrill shriek. OMG I just closed my baby in the car door! I am officially the worst puppy mommy ever.

Immediately I scooped her up, trying to assess her for damage. She's crying at a pitch I'm sure only other dogs and puppy mommies can hear. I can't tell if it's from fear, indignation or a crushed rub.

Do I rush immediately to our vet? Is that overreacting?
Do I cancel the appointment and just watch her at home and hope she doesn't die?
Do I take her anyway and politely inform them that, as World's Worst Puppy Mommy, I closed her in the car door and would they kindly mind watching her closely for internal bleeding while they clipped her nails?

In the end I decided to head toward PetSmart. If she stopped crying by the time we got there, I'd poke and prod her until I was convinced she was okay. If not, PetSmart has a vet right there and I'll beg them hysterically to please save my baby.

Fifteen minutes later, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth panting (a sure sign of a punctured lung!), we arrived at PetSmart. I set her gently on the ground so as not to jostle any displaced organs...and she took off running after another dog in the parking lot.

Um, yeah....clearly she's just fine.

I swear, this time is it. From now on, I'm shaving these dumb dogs at home.