Getting By With A Little Help From Her Friends

So my friend S. went into the hospital to get her lady-parts put right, and I had agreed to help her out with her recovery.
Her partner, R., is doing a fantastic job of caring for her, but she also has to work, so I am there to pick up the slack.
Her son, C., is using his time away from his mother wisely by hanging out with his girlfriend A., and having lots of premarital sex. (If you aren't planning to marry, do you still call it premarital?)

One of the things S. wanted was a hand-held shower installed in her bathroom, for rinsing off her new lady-parts. Ron agreed to go over there while S. was still in the hospital to install that for her, because that's the kind of nice guy he is.
He had two bags of tools and supplies, and opened the door to her house- this is where I point out that S. and R. are animal lovers and own like 27 dogs and 19 cats (actually, the numbers are more like 6 and 2, respectively)- and the pets get so excited when someone comes over, so there they are, all pressed up against the door, and the storm door doesn't latch well, and so Ron opens the door and they all rush out into the street. Here- listen to this while you read the rest of the story.
Anyway, the dogs rush out into the street and Ron freaks out, because S. loves her dogs, and he doesn't want to be the one who got them all killed while she was in the hospital. So he's standing in the street, freaking out, and calls me on his cell phone and is shouting at me that all the dogs are loose.
I ask him what he expects me to do about it, and he screams,

"This is all your fault!! I'm doing this for your friend, and now all her dogs are out, and they aren't coming back, and..."

I told him to yell for C., and he replied, "I did, but I don't know where he is!"
Ron did manage to get the big square dog, Shadow, that's about 30 years old, back into the house, but all the rest were too quick, and kept flipping him off.
So he gave up and went inside to install the hand-held shower.
It turned out C. was just across the street. He came home shortly and was able to get the other dogs safely back into the house, the shower got installed with no complications, and everything worked out fine.

Back at the hospital, S. wanted to try to go for a walk in the hall. We got her catheter bag emptied, so she wasn't carrying 8lbs of urine along with her in a "pee purse", and headed out. She was wearing the standard-issue hospital gown, carrying her empty pee purse, when one of the other inmates patients said "Hello!"
To be nice, we said 'Hello' back to him.

"Can you take this? I'm done." he gestured to his dinner tray. Like S. is going to walk over, pee purse in hand, and collect this guy's tray for him?

"I'm a patient, too, Bud. Sorry." S. said.

"Well, can you go get the nurse and tell her I'm done?" he asked.

"Um... sure." we said, as we shuffled past the door.

"Go tell my nurse I'm done!" he said loudly.

His nurse came around the corner shortly and I said, "That gentleman needs help with his tray..."
The nurse made the twirly gesture with her finger by the side of her head and said, "Yup. I'm on it."
The rest of our walk was pretty uneventful.
Once we were back in the room, R. was calling S. on the phone.

"Who's at our house?" R. asked her.

"What? How the hell should I know? I'm in the hospital." S. replied.

"Someone's at our house in a Kia. I don't know who it is." R. went on.

"Well, I'm in the hospital, and you're right there. I don't know! God, what a question!"

It turned out the Kia owner was just a jesus freak, and not some psychopath stalker trying to let all the dogs out.

While R. was ditching the jesus freak and getting the animals more food, she accidentally stepped in/ flipped the huge bowl of water that is left out for them. The entire kitchen floor was flooded, and when R. went to grab the mop, it wasn't there.

"Yes, it is, R. It's behind the door." S. told her.

"No, it wasn't. I didn't see it." R. replied.

"Yes, it is... it's behind the... oh, wait! No! It's upstairs." S. recalled.

So, while R. is looking in vain for the mop, the enthusiastic dogs are tracking in the water, and jumping up on her to greet her, and just generally making a big mess even bigger.
R. grabs the single dishtowel in the kitchen and soaks up some of the water, wrings it out, and repeats this process until all the water is cleaned up. I'm sure if the jesus lady was still in the neighborhood, she got an earful!

So we're hoping that S. gets discharged today and can go home to all her fur-babies and her hand-held shower, where we will love her, and feed her healthy food, and dyson frequently, so the tumbleweeds of pet hair do not overwhelm her while she's recovering.

My mother called me this morning, waking me up, to tell me she stopped by last evening.

"Were you there?" she asked.

"Nope. I was at the hospital helping my friend." I said.

"Until what time?" she asked.

"Oh, late. Why?" I replied.

"Because the kids told me you weren't there, but your van was there." she said.

"Well, I was in the white car. Ron had the van because he had the kids." I answered.

WTF? Why would my kids lie and say I wasn't there, if I really was?
Why would my mother automatically assume they were lying, just because the van was there?
And, perhaps most importantly, where was Ron, to back up the story?