If you recall- my last Richard Armitage dream, the Comic Con/Responsible Dog Ownership Con dream, was interrupted by the alarm clock while I was busy doing OFA patellar certifications on toy breed dogs while fluffy-white-dog-sitting for Thorin Armitage.
I do have to wonder if spending the time writing up my dReAms may be helping along my subconscious mind, because last night I had a follow-up dReAm, and that was pretty fast. This one went swimmingly, right up until the end. Now I almost hope I never have another.
Warning: Up until now, my dReAms were all G-rated. But read this one at your own risk: contains a lewd joke and racy language!
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I am standing backstage with my office manager at the AAHA Convention Awards Ceremony, feeling the usual flutters one has when one is about to make a public appearance on a stage. Our veterinary practice recently passed our AAHA Inspection to remain an AAHA-Certified practice, and apparently, we are about to receive an Award. (I am actually a little unclear what the Award would be for. In real life, we were told we’d receive a special plaque of recognition at the AAHA Convention when we have been certified for 25 years, and the practice I recently purchased has actually been AAHA-certified for only 21 years. But whatever. We are evidently about to be presented with a rare 21-Year Award. Why not?) My office manager is practically bursting with pride, and true to her nature, she’s come prepared for anything. We naturally didn’t realize we’d have Richard Armitage’s dog along with us when we cross that stage to receive our 21-Year Recognition Award, but she happens to have not one, but two specially-made leashes for the occasion. (Sigh. It’s a practice standard. Good AAHA hospitals take extra precautions, and that means we walk dogs with two leashes. That way, should the unexpected happen, and one leash fails, we still have that additional leash and we won’t lose your pet. Thank goodness we don’t have to cross the stage with Armitage’s dog on gasp! only one leash!)
We hear our names, with all kinds of enthusiastic applause, so out we go. Just to be different, each of us holds one of the leashes, and the fluffy white dog prances along looking really adorable between us. I wish that Richard could see this moment. She doesn’t pee even once as we accept our special plaque! (Of course, there are no scary dwarves anywhere to be seen, so the dog is quite safe. lol) While my office manager is really enjoying all this pomp and ceremony, I am personally rather impatient to take the Award and go. Although I am all finished with my allotted patellar certifications, I still have a stack of paperwork to finish back at my booth at the Responsible Dog Ownership Convention hall, and more importantly, I’m kind of expecting Richard Armitage. These are both excellent reasons why I can’t stay and schmooze, so I delegate the Post-Awards schmoozing to my employee, and make haste for the nearby RDO-Con.
Now I am back, seated contentedly in my booth, filling out OFA paperwork for Responsible Dog Owners at the RDO-Con, and keeping a cheerful eye out for Richard Armitage. Presumably, Richard will be here soon to pick up his flighty fluffball, and I hope that he will remember to get out of his Thorin costume before he arrives. Everything has gone pretty smoothly, and I am of course very eager to see him again. I haven’t decided, but am deliberating about whether I should bother to mention the fine that I paid when his pet peed the Comic Con carpet, or whether I should just write it off as a business expense. I’m definitely going to provide Richard with these two new leashes, perhaps also with a mild little lecture about the importance of leashes, when he gets here.
Pretty soon, I hear a buzz of commotion, accompanied by an increase of little-dog-yipping and snarling, and I look up, expecting to see Richard. Earlier, Thorin was perceived as a high-level threat by the toy breed contingent, so I’m snickering and rolling my eyes, thinking Richard has forgotten to take his Thorin costume off. However, instead of seeing Richard Armitage in the center of the buzz, my heart skips a beat. It’s not Thorin- it’s someone similar- equally tall with long brown hair, a beard, sword… but this masculine attraction (or threat, depending on your gender and species) is strutting along garbed in Viking Age attire. I think I’m about to ovulate, because this is just too much excitement for one day- It’s Rollo. Rollo Lothbrook, of Vikings. And his confident warrior’s stride and his beautiful male arrogance as he surveys the RDO-Con booths is breathtaking.
(Vikings, on History Channel: another show I absolutely adore, not least because Rollo, played by very appealing Clive Standen, is involved. The Award-winning doc is in danger of a swoon, pant, and hypersalivation attack.)
As had happened earlier with Thorin Armitage, the ladies are beginning to swarm Rollo. The temperature in the convention center suddenly feels uncomfortably hot, and I am beginning to fan myself, wondering if I ought to get his autograph. All I have in the way of paper are my OFA patellar certification forms, but that doesn’t stop me. Then I remember Hubby’s physician cousin and her close friend, who originally encouraged us to start watching Vikings, and who are both as terribly attracted to Rollo as I am. So I grab 3 patellar certification forms and emerge from my booth, ready to brave the snarling doggies and hoping Rollo has time for 3 more autographs, when I hear a low, smooth, familiar voice behind me ask me if I’m going somewhere!(You guessed it!) It’s Richard! Now all becomes clear- the cagey man has sent Clive Standen/Rollo in as a diversion, and slipped unnoticed past the responsible dog ladies on his mission to retrieve FluffyPuff. (No, I don’t know if that’s her name, but it perfectly describes Richard’s little dog.) Forgetting all about Rollo and my dream of autographed OFA patellar certification forms, I turn to Richard. (Yes, the dilemma about the fine I paid earlier has flown right out of my head!) He did remember to remove his Thorin gear, and here he is, wearing familiar Stage Door apparel, a ball cap, and an entirely self-satisfied smile. His gambit has worked. He can sneak in and out with nobody the wiser, and retrieve his FluffyPuff without having to run the yipping dog gauntlet again.
The dog is overjoyed to see him and only makes a small spot on the floor, which I am amazed and touched to see he is prepared for. He pulls a paper towel out of his back pocket and quickly mops up the little mess, while she rolls over in submissive joy and presents her belly for a rub. My heart is melting, as he obliges her, and as soon as he finishes the enthusiastic belly rub, she leaps into his arms and he catches her in an obviously oft-rehearsed move as he smoothly rises to his feet, simultaneously catching the dog and tossing the paper towel into the nearest wastebasket with splendid aim.
Before I can really gather my wits, something catches my attention on the far side of the convention center. I see a beautiful, huge Anatolian Shepherd on a leash, and the crowds are parting around her as she makes her majestic entrance. Then I realize it’s my own Anatolian Shepherd, Shania. And attached to the other end of the (cough! single) leash is my Hubby. (Expletive!) Hubby does look pretty sexy today. I have no idea why he has shown up here with Shania, but he’s dressed to kill in his black jeans, sports coat and boots, like he’s dressed for a date. (Did I forget more than one thing on my Tulsa itinerary? Is this supposed to be a date night? ) Richard follows my gaze and spots Hubby and Shania, and I hurriedly tell him that’s my Hubby. I am suddenly in a complete fluster about what I should do! Hubby knows about my Armitage Affliction, but I didn’t tell him I would be meeting Richard today, and I’m immediately feeling uncomfortably concerned that Hubby might draw the wrong conclusion here!
Richard kindly thanks me for watching his dog, and I am more than relieved to see him slip out of the booth and start for the door. (Evidently our gentleman is no slouch when it comes to reading a domestic situation clearly! Lol) However, much to my consternation, Hubby and Richard Armitage stop and sort of face off in the center of the Convention center in a modified show-ring that was used for some canine obedience demonstrations earlier. I watch like a hawk, not sure what is happening. Is it going to be a pissing match? I have the funny thought that Shania, a giant-breed, could pee gallons compared to FluffyPuff if it came down to a literal pissing match. However, the two men, who are both bearded, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and of a same height, seem to be conversing pleasantly. Richard sets his dog down and she sniffs noses with Shania, who casually wags her tail, and Richard pats Shania’s head. Now that it appears I am not in Big Trouble, I consider whether to join the men and their dogs. Especially when I notice that Rollo Lothbrook is now headed in that direction.
I snatch up my OFA patellar certifications and follow Rollo. If the opportunity arises, I’ll be ready. As I make my way toward the ring, Rollo stops to admire a rather impressive Great Dane, so I’m able to catch him. I ask him how he got roped into being a diversion for Richard Armitage, and he laughs and says he owed him one from their Robinhood days, but he doesn’t elaborate. Clive Standen/Rollo kindly signs my absurd forms, jokingly putting his signature on the line reserved for the certifying veterinarian, and we both hear Richard and Hubby burst out into laughter. I glance over, and see Hubby is showing Richard something on his phone, and then they both laugh again, and Richard slaps Hubby on the back, then covers his face with one hand, laughing and shaking his head as if he can’t believe what was just said.
(This does not surprise me. Hubby has the gift of gab, and is more than capable of holding his own in any kind of ribald exchange.)
I suddenly am not so sure I want to go over there after all, because there is absolutely no telling what they are talking about, and Richard has just glanced in my direction, still chuckling, and his ears are pink. I have a terrible premonition that I might be the butt of this joke, so I sort of smile, lean against the side of the ring, wave casually, and give Hubby one of those looks that a married couple can exchange with perfect comprehension… namely: “I love you, but you’d better get your ass over here and explain yourself, right now!” Aborting my original mission, I thank Clive/Rollo and send him on his way to join Richard, and Hubby continues toward me. Hubby and Rollo fist-bump as they pass one another. I’m impressed.
I greet Hubby with a hug and quick kiss, then I turn to watch the incredibly compelling rear view of the actors as they stroll unhurriedly toward the exit. Richard is sharing something humorous with Clive. When I turn back to Hubby, I note that he, too, is still smirking. With a knowing look, Hubby asks if I have enjoyed myself today. I flush, and show him the Rollo autographs, and he assures me that his cousin and friend are going to flip out when they see these. I finally get up the courage to ask Hubby what he thought of Richard, and Hubby decides to play it cool, saying Richard seems like a nice, down-to-earth guy. I wait, and Hubby doesn’t say anything else. Finally, I have to specifically ask what they were laughing about, and now it’s Hubby who is turning pink. At first he tries to brush me off, saying it was just a jest, and “Nevermind.” Of course, this only inflames my curiosity further. I’m not about to let him brush me off, (though now I wish I had) so finally, he reveals more about their conversation.
It seems that Richard had seen Hubby watching him walk away from my booth, and so he’d stopped in a friendly manner, and explained that I’d lent a hand in catching his little dog earlier. Then Richard, like most people who have never encountered an Anatolian Shepherd, had politely enquired what breed Shania was. They had talked a bit about dogs, and then Hubby had offered that, being a Cat-Person, this was his first trip to any sort of dog convention, and he’d mentioned to Richard that he’d recently been to a cat show, which was a lot quieter. (This is true!) Richard, the self-confessed Non-Cat-Person, had scoffed at him. Hubby’s rejoinder: “Richard, you really haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen my wife’s naked pussy.”
(#FacePalm! #SomebodyShootMe! #OMFGI’mGoingToKillYou!)
Then he’d pulled out the cell phone and shown Richard my “naked pussy”- referring, of course, to my beloved Sphynx cats! I am speechless. I am so mortified- yet at the same time, think it’s slightly hilarious- that I sort of shriek out in a horrified cry of laughter, and I smack Hubby, hard, and tell him he’s such an ass! I hear another peal of laughter and turn to see Richard and Clive looking our way, waiting to see what my response would be. I smack Hubby once more for good measure, then bury my face in his chest in mortification, and refuse to look their way again. Ever. I don’t see this, but something tells me Hubby gives them the thumbs up.
And that’s the end.
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So there you have it! If this scenario ever played out in real life, I’m sorry to say I’d have to kill my Hubby. I do have to give the dream Hubby props, though. I can think of no better way to ensure his wife’s immediate desire to Avoid Richard Armitage At All Costs! LOL