Dog and Goat Food Run

Once every month or so, I drive up to a place called "Gatlin Feed" to purchase food for my dogs and for my bucks. Now, I love my dogs as much as the next person, but when the venison is running low in the freezer, it's time to buy k-i-b-b-l-e and, when you have eleventy-billion dogs of all ages, shapes, and sizes, like I do, you need to find the right price point for your dog food. So, yes, Taste of the Wild is pretty much right out. Fortunately, our feed store has a dog food that fits the bill (shameless plug for it in the picture caption), which they sell for a reasonable price for a 50-pound bag. Best of all, the dogs love it AND they look amazing on it, so the 50ish mile round trip is well worth the time and effort.

The best thing of all is that I can also get food for my bucks at a reasonable price, alfalfa pellets for a reasonable price, goat minerals for a reasonable price, dog vaccines for a reasonable price, and even fencing for a reasonable price. If they would just mill a 16%-protein goat-specific feed that I could use for dairy goats, I could pass on going to Tractor Supply Company at all. I love supporting family-operated businesses, don't you?

So, the other day, I hopped into the Suburban and headed out to Gatlin Feed for the feed I needed for my dogs (1 black bag Valu Pak, 2 red bags Valu Pak) and my bucks (3 bags Rak Atak pellets). I figured that I had plenty of time to beat the rain. It wasn't even 2:00 and the rain wasn't expected till after 4:00, plus, the actual thunderstorms were supposed to go north of us. Someone should have reminded me that Gatlin Feed was to the north of us. Just saying. I headed into town, ran my errand, put gas in the vehicle, and headed up I-55 toward Bogue Chitto. Good times! I arrived well before 3:00, having made good time despite my stops.

Raindrops were just starting to fall as I was entering the store. By the time I was on the ramp for my return trip down I-55, just 15 minutes later, the widely spaced raindrops were gathered into a steady downpour. Even before I approached the Summit exit, just a short time later, I could barely see the end of the Suburban's hood ahead of me, flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder were coming more frequently than they had any right to come. I decided that it was best to take a different exit, where I could pull over and get something to eat at a drive-thru, maybe even sit and wait the storm out in the parking lot while I ate. A couple of people were in line ahead of me, so I was not the only one to have that idea.

Did I mention that the driver's window doesn't work on the Suburban? It's permanently locked in the "up" position, as the window motor doesn't work. Given that the vehicle is 24 years old and still running, I'm grateful that the window is one of my few worries with it. Anyway, as a result, I have to open the door to speak into a drive-thru microphone. Not a major issue, during good weather, it's significantly more annoying when there's wind, rain, or snow. I opened the door just enough for me to hear the order taker. Unfortunately, it was also enough to let the rain in, as well as the rain being splashed INTO my vehicle from the windshield wipers. WHY I didn't just turn off the wipers, don't ask me, but there I was, rain pouring down on me as I held the door open and getting periodic showers with the woosh-thump-splash of the rain being catapulted onto me between the door and the frame of the car. It was almost enough to make me want to drive off.

Almost.

I was hungry, darn it, and tired, and dinner with Dan was on the distant horizon. Eventually, the speaker started making sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher. I hurriedly spoke into the torrent:

"I would like a double cheeseburger, a small fry, and a small diet coke."

There was no response from the speaker and no order was appearing on the screen.

Woosh-thump-splash. Woosh-thump-splash.

"Hello," I said, "did you hear me?"

"What is it that you wanted, ma'am?"

I cracked the door a little wider, so that I could lean slightly closer to the microphone. My head was drenched in seconds.

"I would like a double cheeseburger. A small fry. A small diet coke."

"Okay, a double cheeseburger, small fry, and a diet coke." There was a pause, and my order began to appear on the screen. "Did you want two of those?"

Woosh-thump-splash.

Please note, I have little patience with people who fail to meet a minimum level of skill doing their jobs at the best of times. When I am ordering from drive-thru in a torrential downpour through an open car door, my patience drops to abysmal levels. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I spoke more loudly--just in case she was having difficulty hearing me.

"I want ONE double cheeseburger. ONE small fry. ONE diet coke."

There was another pause.

Woosh-thump-splash. Woosh-thump-splash.

"You don't have to yell, ma'am."

"Well, clearly I do," I said, throwing all caution to the wind (and rain). "It's a bad thunderstorm out here, I have my car door open, and I'm taking a bath. I don't even know if you're hearing me!"

There was another Charlie Brown teacher moment, which I assumed to mean, "thank you, please drive around to the first window."

I was quickly disabused of that notion when I pulled around and, once again, propped open my door. The order taker/cashier approached the window, opened it, and leaned out.

"I'll be with you in just a minute," she said. "I'm trying to figure something out."

She closed the window and walked away. I closed my door while I observed her walking back and forth, occasionally gesturing toward the drive-thru window. I was once again beginning to question my dedication to the convenience of fast food. My level of optimism rose a bit when she returned to the drive-thru window and opened it.

"Now, ma'am, what is it that you wanted?"

Woosh-thump-splash.

Woosh-thump-splash.

Woosh-thump-splash.

"Nothing," I growled in my best low alto "Dies Irae" movement voice.

Retrieving what little was left of my dignity and convinced that I had made my displeasure known, I shut the door between us and drove off. It was, of course, a Pyrrhic victory at best, a retreat with my tail tucked between my legs at worst. Once I stepped out into the downpour twenty minutes later, my entire body caught up to my left side, just adding insult to injury. I changed into a dry pair of pants and a t-shirt, ate a hot dog, and laid down for a nap. Never let a good sulk interfere with an even better nap!

There are times I wonder, why is it that I gave up a perfectly serviceable second story walk-up apartment in Metairie for homesteading again? I mean, when I made questionable decisions back then, it mostly resulted in sitting in traffic on the way to get fast food, or something.

You there! Yes, you, with your fingers on the keyboard getting ready to type a comment--you tell me!

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