We Need To Take Action

I think all the pets in the world are ganging together and planning to throw a coup. Stay with me here. Something has been up, and it's been much more than just a full moon, because I swear all the stories I've been hearing lately have been about dogs gone wild. And this has been so much more than just your average, run of the mill, doggy misbehavior. This has been full out, deliberate, kick in the balls kind of actions, carried out with the sole purpose of sending humans to the brink to make them weak and better to be overtaken.

Some examples:

Remember that day that Olivia ate an entire King Cake off the top of the stove? Well a couple of days later it was followed up by eating the leftover pasta out of the pot still on top of the stove. Yes, perhaps I should have put the pasta away before the next day, but it wasn't enough to keep and it was headed towards the garbage. Hey, my actions aren't the point here.

Then there is Trigg's Bailey, who is reacting to the stress of the wedding (this coming weekend!!!) and is acting out too. After he ate an entire dish of brownies and subsequently broke the Pyrex dish he stole a butcher knife and a butter knife out of the sink and deposited them in the middle of the living room.

And then there was the situation with Repliderium's Maggi jumped up on the table and consumed all sorts of tasty treats and finally shat out some sparkly wrappers.

Miss Musing's god also got up on the kitchen table, wrangled the cover off of a container and chowed down on some lovely cupcakes and their imposing paper wrappers as well.

Monkey's Mama's Tootsie has decided that getting into the garbage can is all sorts of fun. And that is after stealing a chocolate cake and sharing it with her blind doggy sister.

Maxie's cat climbed on top of the stove and ate three raw sausages.

I think that these are more than enough examples, I'm sure you see that our pets truley are trying to take over our homes, and in due time will take over the world. Do we have a chance? What steps should we take in order to keep our dominance over our pets. Any help will be much appreciated. Or, run while you can. RUUUUNNNN!




Bookmarkz

You know it is time for the holidays to be over and to get back to the grind when:

You know it is time for the holidays to be over and to get back to the grind when:

KingCake.com won’t sell you a King Cake for New Years Eve because tradition says you aren’t allowed to eat it before 12th Night (1/6/09.)

Your loving boyfriend agrees to bake said king cake instead basically because you said he would.

In the first hour of what turns out to be a two day process he basically said “dude, next time you get this brilliant idea to use an insane recipe, please check with me first, or I might have to stop cooking for you and then you would wither away and die.”

After two days of bickering about said King Cake you leave it out over night, not even considering the fact that there is a pound of cream cheese in it.

Boyfriend is overly understanding and agrees it should be thrown away.

Before getting around to throwing away the potential death cake, errands had to be run.

Upon returning home the death cake seems to be missing ¾ of its girth and the dog is visibly fat. Doggy paws must have been standing on the stove to produce this fete.

Leaving the dog in the care of your parents with orders to only walk her and give her water, she deserves nor needs no dinner, and all stains will be taken care of when you return, you take off for NJ to attend a Chicken Wings Party.

At said party discuss how you don’t understand the concept of eating chicken wings and the tiny nom, noms required to satiate belly. This conversation might have been appletini induced.

Decide to just lay down for “a little bit” around 10 pm. Remember nothing for the next 10 hours.

Apparently tell loving boyfriend to put on your jammies and stick leg into air with a grumbled grunt to make point.

Loving boyfriend does as he is told, then puts the fitted sheet on the futon over you because you refuse to move.

In the morning, wake up chipper and cheery as 10 hours of sleep will help to remove any hangover.

Feel terrible for loving boyfriend as he is incapable of any “sudden movements” and is slightly green. Attempt to convince him that throwing up will make him feel better. Attempts fall on deaf ears as dinosaur noises accompany vomiting from boyfriend.

Finally return home many hours later to a dog who is still visibly fat and has thrown up at least three times.

After four walks dog still refuses to poop. And there really must be A LOT of poop in there.

Attempt to explain to doggy that we all have to deal with the ramifications of over indulgence, loving boyfriend included.

Neither dog nor loving boyfriend really appreciate story.





Bookmarkz

What is Meant to Be

For a while now the Teacher has been talking about getting Gilfred the Pug a baby sister. As the thought of two snoring pugs scares me a little I’ve been trying to talk him into a Doxie, but to no avail, he is set on getting a black female to counteract the fawn colored Gilfred. But of course, the voice of reason tells us to hold off until spring when we get around to fencing in the back yard.

The voice of reason might have been a tad drunk on Saturday night when we caught wind of a rumor there was a pug at the SPCA.

At first it was low key, we’ll just go and check it out. If there really is a pug there, and if it is a black, female we will take a closer looks and see if we think that it’s personality will fit into our already crowded animal family. We have to make sure it is little, or Olivia might not get along with it. There were all these stipulations in our minds.

But we were totally kidding ourselves.

By the next morning when we made it out to the pound, we both knew in the back of our minds it was a terrible idea right now, but nonetheless, if there was a pug, we were bringing it home. I will admit, I had already named it.

From the driveway I saw it. Pug! Closer inspection proved it to be fawn, and male. The exact opposite of what we wanted. But I could already see the determination and love in the Teacher’s face. He wanted that pug. He marched inside and announced he was interested in taking home that pug.

“He’s already been adopted” the words we refused to believe we could hear.

We went home that afternoon, hugged our dogs, told them we loved them, and they had a few more months before we brought home a little sister.

Olivia seemed to say “Thank goodness, I used to rule the roost around here and now I have to share it with this cat and this ugly pug” (I always think that Olivia is a bit bitchy)

Gilfred, the doof, was probably saying “it’s ok, just love me, pet me, love me, pet me”




Bookmarkz

The youngest one in curls

A few days ago The Teacher brought his dog over to my house so that he and Olivia could start cohabitation, even if right now it's just over night. They have met before on neutral turf and all went well but I was still a bit skeptical about how Olivia would react to having another dog in her house. Things went swimmingly and our happy little family is forming a perfect Brady Bunch.

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Get Lost

Saturday was a gorgeous day, low 80s, bright sun, soft breeze. It was a perfect day to take Olivia outside and go for the first hike of the year. I've been looking forward to checking out a relatively new state park only a few miles away for an easy hike. And then I got lost.

Now, you have to understand. I do not get lost in the woods. Ever. It just doesn't happen. Drop me off in the woods and I have an impeccable sense of direction. It actually took me a really long time to admit that I was lost. Not until I arrived at the parking lot and I realized, this is not the parking lot I started from, did I become concerned.

I lost my cool for a few minutes, and actually almost called my sister to find a map online to tell me where to go. And then I made Olivia lay down and be quiet and I just listened and actually used my senses.

I parked on the east side of the highway, but I can hardly even hear it, it has to be far away. But I think it's that way. Where is the sun. Ok, yeah, that's west, so I need to go generally west to get back to the highway.

So I walked, and walked. I was mad, crazy out of the way. But I just kept walking. And for the first time in years of hiking I wasn't stressing about how hot I was, or how hard my heart was beating, or the bugs, or the fact that Olivia was pulling on the leash or finding the muddiest puddles to roll around in. I was walking and focusing on where my car was. I wasn't watching the trail to avoid tripping over roots, my body just worked around them naturally. I wasn't lost in my own head. I just was.

And it was amazing and freeing and real. I felt alive.

I came home exhausted and facing the daunting task of a doggy bath but invigorated. It's going to be a great summer.


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Dog proof

I need to formulate a plan to keep Olivia from eating the cat food. I currently have Merlot's bowl on a desk, all the way against the wall. Olivia can just barely reach it if she uses her tippy toes and catches the bowl with her claws. I've refilled the bowl three times today. I tried to move the bowl onto the kitchen counter, and showed Merlot where it was, but I'm not sure she can jump that high because she didn't eat for the two days it was there.

Does anyone have any suggestions? Is there some kind of dog-proof cat bowl?




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Why don't dogs understand pointing?

Why don't dogs understand pointing? No, I don't want you to lick the end of my finger, I want you go over there, across the room WHERE I AM POINTING to eat that bug. Does anyone know how to train a dog to follow my pointing finger?

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Introducing the one, the only, the lovely and talented...

Introducing the one, the only, the lovely and talented...

Edith Merlot von Sassypants (insert my last name here) a.k.a. Merlot

Thank you all so much for the help in naming her. It was definitely a collaborative effort.

Olivia must be feeling a little bit left out because she just jumped up into my lap and demanded
that I include her in this post. Let's just get this out of the way....

ok and back to the post. Merlot has been with us for a little of a week and has spent about 99.9% of the time in the guest room. Poor Trigg has spent the most time with her as they shared this room for the weekend. Olivia has tried to eat her a couple of times and Merlot was none to happy with that and reacts with the most insane zombie like gutteral moaning. I'm a little scared. Olivia defeintly should be.

But I finally became brave and grabbed her and deposited Merlot on top of the fridge, far away from where Olivia could get her. Within five minutes she jumped down and now has been hiding on the countertop, a dangerous place since Olivia is a bad bad dog and has no qualms with putting her paws up there. One of them will give eventually.

Some Housekeeping...

...blog and otherwise.

The new kitty has arrived home and so far so good. I'm keeping her and Olivia separated for a few days to smell each other under the door. But the main thing is is Kitty needs a name. I have a bunch of ideas and already decided against a few that just didn't make sense to her personality. While I was pretty partial to calling her "The Unnamed Monster From Cloverfield" it just didn't seem to fit for, she is just too sweet. Which do you like the best?

Puddles

Silver Belle
Edith
Skye
Mouse

Chartreuse

Other suggestions are also very welcome.

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I would also like to formally announce the winner of the Smurf-test I was a bit disappointed by you readers. Apparently I would not choose most of you to be on any kind of pop culture team. Come one guys, the 80's rocked, and nothing rocked the 80's harder than the Smurfs. Trigg was the only one who pulled out all the stops and knew the answers to the fairly easy Smurf trivia questions.

Purely by coincidence, Trigg is going to get a super special prize. Because she is getting on a plane and flying all the way from Florida to see me this weekend, she is going to be treated to a lunch at The Cheese Plate in New Paltz. Aren't you now all jealous that you didn't try a little harder and google those answers?

I am very much excited that Trigg is coming up. She and I have a friendship which is so great I can't even describe it. Basically, Trigg is the shit. I haven't seen her since the cruise we took to the scariest port in Mexico which was...um..three years ago? Four? (Trigg, a little help here?) I forget how long it's been, which ultimately means it's been too long.

And thank you to her impending arrival I finally got off my duff and cleaned my office/ spare bed room. About a year ago I stop filing and instead used the "pile" method to organize my bills and assorted accoutrement. It was probably at least ten months ago when all my riding ribbons fell off the string I used to display them (purely because of the sheer weight of great big blue ones, of course.) At the time I picked them of the floor to keep Olivia from eating them and promptly dropped them in a doot (technical term meaning pile of crap, I'm pretty sure my mother made it up.) They are now pretty wrinkly, but I put them back up! A quick vacuum and the room will be all ready for her.

I enjoyed my Tuesday night getting things done. It felt good to organize and clean. Now if only I could get the motivation to get my love life organized.

To cat or not to cat

I know I was half joking last week when I said I was thinking about getting a cat, but I have been throwing the idea around. I miss having my own personal menagerie and having a cat around would help with the mouse situation. One animal in the house just doesn't seem like enough.

I have found myself searching the local humane society websites, just to take a look. And now, coincidentally there is a cat listed for adoption in my company's classifieds. It seems like fate.

Unfortunately the real problem lies in the fact that money is super tight right now and I have my property taxes due in about a month. What to do? Bring the kitty home and charge any necessary supplies? Or be responsible and save that money?

And in an effort to persuade you towards Pro Kitty look how super cute she is...

It might be time to start thinking about getting a cat

What you can't see in these pictures is the five hours that Olivia had this poor mouse trapped on the window and sill and my removal of the mouse with a pot. I'm sure it scurried right back into the house after I let it go. I think I'll name it Agnes.

Update: I just noticed. If you look closely out the window you can see another house through the woods. That is my parent's house. I really do live next door to my parents.

You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

I've been cranky all day. I don't really know what it is. My back has been bothering me a lot more than normal and I just saw the chiropractor two days ago, so not another fix for another month. People have been bitching at me a bit at work lately. Maybe I'm just in a funk.

For two years Thursdays have been get-together nights in my circle of friends. Right now, since Kickball is in the off-season, we have no standard plans and I really just don't feel like doing anything. I sort of just feel like putting on yoga pants, curling up in my recliner and reading Real Simple. I picked up a bottle of wine on the way home so if anyone happens to call, they are going to have to pick me up.

I'll drink my way out of this funk if need be.

And literally right now, as I'm typing this post, Olivia is taking a shit on the floor no more than four feet from me. Now that kind of behavior is not going to make me feel any better.

It's a Smurftest

Yesterday was the Smurf's 50th birthday! Hearing the news made me very nostalgic for my youth. I completely used to heart the Smurfs. No, scratch that, I STILL completely heart the Smurfs.

My cousins who live in Germany, where Smurfs were even bigger than they were here, used to have a ginourmous collection of Smurf figurines. I'm pretty sure I never had any. So when I entered my twenties and started doing some moderately adult things - like going to the flea market - I came across a vendor who sold old toys. It was a magical day, he had Smurfs!! Ever since then I have treated myself to a figurine every time I go. I have about ten now, and they reside on a very high shelf, far, far away from the chewing mandibles of Olivia. My favorites are Tooth Brushing Smurf and Beer Drinking Smurf.

The only video game system we ever had in my household growing up was Coleco-Vision, the precursor even to Atari. It was incredibly old school. The controller had a joy stick that I remember creaked and made noises like an old wooden floor. The handle was a complete rectangle, not at all ergonomic and probably led to carpel tunnel problems in all who used it. It might have been terrible to today's standards, but man, back then, Coleco was the shit! And not only was Coleco the shit, but the Smurf's game for Coleco was gnarly! I'm pretty sure that I sucked really bad at it, because well, hand eye coordination was never really my forte. But I do know I felt like I really had to rescue Smurfette.




And now to Smurftest. Everyone who can answer these two questions correctly will be put into a raffle to win a glorious prize! Leave your answers in the comments. Are you ready? Get ready...ok,

1) When is a Smurf born?

2) What is the connection between Smurfs and Snorks?

Good luck!

Immune to fun

I've been sick or about, oh, all of eternity...well, maybe about three weeks now. I kept thinking I was getting better and the damn bastard of a sickness would change and come back on full force. It's getting pretty old.

The offspring of the King of Kickball had all been diagnosed with strep throat and/ or ear infections. But I was somehow convinced that I am immune to strep. As Trigg and I were roommates for three years in college and she got strep at least once a day back then and I NEVER ONCE got it from her I was pretty sure that I just was never ever going to get strep throat. Alas, two days ago my tonsils swelled up to three times the skull they are encased in and burned like they were being stabbed by a red-hot poker.

I'm off the doctor in about an hour. I'll let you know what ever kind of African Sleeping Sickness I must have.

I am telling you this for a reason. I'm not just whining and looking for your sympathy, (which of course would be much appreciated) in fact I wanted to apologize for the lack of exciting party stories and retelling of sexual encounters. It's not that I am being a slacker and just not telling you, it's that there haven't been any. Being sick for three weeks really puts a damper on the partying like a rock star.

I hope you have enjoyed the numerous pictures of Olivia instead.

Merry Christmas

She was ok with the Santa hat and scarf but drew the line at the angel wings that were coming up next.

Putting up the tree

Oops, too tall!
Olivia, not at all pleased with sharing her living room, with a tree no less!

I need a vacation from my own head

This entire week has been one big drama fest. I was burned out on all this gossip and mellorchy by Tuesday, and now, another three days later, I'm in dire need of a few calm days.

The week started off with a couple of our friends hooking up, which in turn pissed of Flick as he is her ex-fb and she is supposed to be a good friend of hers. Then Bear got panicky about this new girl he is dating, spent hours on the phone with hm going over the pros and cons. Wednesday was spiked with anxiety when Flick's dog attacked her and sent her to the ER. And of course Boy #7's constant attempt to determine if he loves his gf or not has been riddled throughout the entire week.

Like I said, the drama my friends were experiencing was enough of a burden on me and just as I thought I was escaping without my own personal mess I had to go ahead and make it for myself.

Wyoming has been on vacation all week but we have still spoken every now and then. I made the unfortunate mistake of telling him that I missed which just snowballed.

Me: I miss you.
Wyoming:...
Me: The proper reply to that is I miss you too.
Wyoming:...well I do miss you.

I felt bad for forcing him into telling me he missed me. I learned a long time ago that digging for compliments doesn't get you anywhere. I called him back later to apologize and it just fell into a clusterfuck of a conversation that actually wouldn't be the worst of the night. He said he didn't want to say it because saying "I miss you" is a like a commitment thing. Um ok. I don't get it. But whatever.

I called Bear, sad, confused, lonely, upset, convinced that I had just ruined everything with Wyoming. (Which is still yet to be seen) After being on the phone with him for hours on Tuesday I get thirty fucking seconds of his precious time because his new gf is so ultimately important? "Your fine, gotta go, talk to you tomorrow"

I then spent the rest of the night sleeplessly angry, embarrassed and insulted. I got up bright and early and sent him the calmest, point driven, angry email I have ever written. He spent the morning leaving me countless messages and emails until I got into work and decided to speak to him. He had no idea I was crying when I called. Sometimes I hate him. Sometimes I love him. Sometimes I hate him because I love him. Sometimes I just want to get in my car, drive until I get tired and not answer my phone no matter what. Which hotel chain is it that allows pets?

Panic First, Read Later

My day started off with Olivia stealing and attempting to eat a half live mouse off of a sticky trap. I was only half mortified that she was trying to eat it, more panicked that this sticky trap had some type of anaesthetic on it. As I chased Olivia around the bedroom, trying to avoid her biting at me (because she gets very defensive about things she isn't allowed to have) and avoid touching the mouse I was convinced this is how she was going to keel over and die. Only after I bribed her with her own dog food and I disposed of the blinking mouse did I look at the sticky trap box, in big bold unmistakable letters it read "NON TOXIC!"

I often wonder what Olivia does all day. Does she get on the computer and talk to other dogs on dogster.com? Does she turn on Animal Planet? Does she brainstorm new and fabulous ways to get up onto the kitchen table only to forget she's afraid to get down so she will remain up there whining until I pick her up and place her safely on the floor again? My curiousity is hightening even more when I get home and am greeted by the sound of hair dryer, which I most certainly did not leave on.

I just learned two very valuable lessons, both taught to me by the extreme wind that is currently plaguing New York.



1) When you have a large metal bar through your ear it will get cold and it will transpose that temperature to the very sensitive and thin cartilage in your ear.



2) If there is any doubt, just go ahead and put the coat on your dog, or will come back with a pupsicle.