Thursday, August 13, 2009

Bad, Bad Dog

"Who? Me???"

The Scene:
Our house. Last night. Dave and I are enjoying a late dinner, when it occurs to me I don’t know where the dog is.

Me: Honey, where’s Rudy?

Dave: Oh, I let her out a while ago. But she’s awfully quiet. I wonder why she’s not barking to come in. She’s been out there a while…

(Opens the back door.)

Dave: What the…??? Oh…My…GODDDD! Disgusting!!!

Me: What is it, honey?

Dave: Oh holy mother of God. Bad dog! Bad dog! BAD, BAD dog!

Me: Do you need me?

I take the lack of answer to be a yes and find Dave outside by the garage muttering loudly to himself while he cleans remnants of garbage Rudy has been quietly but happily rooting in while we enjoyed our dinner in blissful ignorance.

And then I am practically knocked over by the stench coming from my otherwise adorable dog.

Me: What IS that? (gag reflex kicks in briefly) Oh wow. Whatever it is, she’s got it all over her face! Good Lord!

(An aside: This isn’t your ordinary, everyday garbage. This is garbage comprised of “compostable materials” that Dave makes me save when I cook so he can go through the 20-some steps of composting it for use in the garden. It’s a great system, except, unfortunately, this particular batch never got composted, so the egg shells, egg yolks, vegetables and other miscellaneous kitchen waste have instead, well, rotted. And this was the mother of all rot. The big daddy voodoo of all doo doo. Words cannot explain how gross this was.)

And this is exactly what my dog got into. With aplomb. She is of course at this point looking at me with smiling eyes and a wagging tail, as if to say, “Isn't it fabulous?”

Bad, bad dog.

So we round up the doggy shampoo, hose her down in the driveway and scrub off the nastiness. And yes, this would be the second time this summer I’ve been outside at odd hours washing stench off my dog.

But of course the story doesn’t end here, because we’re not sensible people, after all.

An hour later Rudy paws at me to go out again. Figuring she may have actually ingested some of the rotting garbage, I hurry to let her out. We certainly don’t want an ugly accident in the house.

And, like déjà vu, we go through the whole cycle again.

Dave: Where’s the dog?

Me: I let her out.

Dave: Did you shorten her run? We don’t want her getting back into the garbage.

Me: Wait. You left the garbage where it was? Oh crap!

(Sounds of me running to the back door, stubbing my toe on an errant dog bone lying in the path of my mad dash and then yelling about the stench being there. Again. I mean, seriously, it took her less than a minute).

Yep. As if on a loop, the scene repeats:

Me, Dave, Rudy.




Utter amazement at our own stupidity.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Dog Days of Summer

Shh…they’re sleeping. I know this because Daddy’s snoring and Mommy keeps mumbling, “Oh, hush, honey, for the love of GOD!” in her sleep. My sister Kookai is on the corner of the bed cleaning herself. She does that a lot.

So anyway, I figured now would be a safe time to check out this blog thing Mommy keeps saying is so much fun. I also heard that she's been telling stories about our escapades lately, but who better to tell you what we’ve really been up than us pets?

Leaving presents in the basement. I know where I'm supposed to go to the bathroom, but my aunt Lucy, the wiener dog, told me that our parents like it when we leave them presents on the carpet every once in a while. So when she comes over to visit she shows me where to go so I can do it too sometimes. Lucy’s really bossy but she knows a lot of cool things, like how to steal food and hide it for later. Plus, she’s kind of scary, so I usually do what she says. The weird thing is, I don't think my parents have noticed my presents yet. Every time I leave them one, they start yelling about something so I figure they're just distracted when they go down there. I will probably just keep at it until they notice my good work.

Bunny hunting. Do you people even realize what prime bunny hunting time it is right now?! They’re everywhere, just everywhere! Hiding in the grass. Peeking out from the bushes. And they taunt me non-stop. When we go for walks, all I hear is their squeaky little bunny voices singsonging, “You can’t catch us, slow poke…nah nah nah nah nah!” Mommy and Daddy don't appreciate my obsession with the bunnies. Though, I don't think they're happy about it because they get all loud and there’s usually some tugging on my harness, but it’s really a bit of a blur, because with all the smack those furry little devils are throwing down, I can't help but focus on the bunnies, bunnies, bunnies…

Sneaking out. Well, Kooks has been doing this a lot. She’s mastered the art of streaking past Daddy when he lets me out. For such a fat cat, she’s pretty quick. She tells me she’s been having a blast partying all night with the neighborhood cats. Personally, I think she’s getting kind of a “reputation.” I also know she takes particular pleasure in waking up Mommy and Daddy at 4 a.m. by positioning herself under their bedroom window and meowing incessantly until they let her in. I have to hand it to her, she’s gotten really good at this. She doesn’t even take a breath in between meows, and if they ignore her, she just follows them to whichever room they go to and meows under that window. She says that after a long night out on the town, she’s hungry and thirsty and the only reason our parents are here anyway is to feed her, water her and basically cater to her every whim. She also says I'm stupid for trying to please them all the time. Well, all I know is that Mommy is not happy about the crack-of-dawn wake up calls and keeps threatening to take Kooks to this place called a “farm” so she can "make herself useful instead of gallivanting around with all the neighborhood Toms." I don’t know what that means, exactly, but I bet Kooks would have fun with the barn cats.

And speaking of farms, Daddy keeps telling me he’s going to send me to a special place called the “Burrito Farm.” Usually this follows one of his fits of bellowing. Something about there being more crap in the basement (I think this is what keeps distracting him from finding my presents). But I bet a Burrito Farm would be fun. I wonder if they have bunnies there. That sure would be great.

Swimming. I just love to swim at the doggy beach. Last week as I was running around in circles showing off my fetching skills, this lady I passed told my Mommy that she didn’t like dogs. Mommy made me get away from her but I heard her say, “What kind of person doesn’t like dogs?” Well, I figured I could win the lady over, so I made sure to run past her again and show her how awesome my orange fetch toy is. I mean, it’s really cool and I swam really far out to get it. But the lady didn’t seem to like that either, and then Mommy yelled at me and put me back on my leash and I couldn’t even swim out to the deep end anymore. It was kind of a bummer. But I hope we get to go back soon and maybe the mean lady won’t be there.

Camp. Mommy and Daddy went away for a weekend and I got to go to Lab Camp. My doggy mommy Sadie, my brother Norm, sister Lulu and niece Callie all live there and it’s super fun. We play a lot and there are a TON of good bones for me to chew. Callie is kind of a spazz, but the rest of us usually just gang up on her and try to steal her toys. She seems to like it, though, so I guess everybody wins. And Mama Lee Ann spoils me a lot. But don’t tell Mommy because she always says I come back from camp five pounds fatter. What’s wrong with that?

Ice cream! Forget about bacon; ice cream is where it’s at. Last night Mommy and Daddy took me for a walk to the ice cream place. A walk AND ice cream! Life sure was good, even if I didn’t catch any bunnies. I got my very own cone, and you can bet I didn’t take my time scarfing down that yummy goodness. I don’t know why Mommy and Daddy take so long to eat theirs when it’s really easy to get it all down in one chomp. You’d think they’d know better, because they eat kind of a lot of ice cream.
So that’s the real scoop. Kooks and I have been enjoying the summer and we hope we get to do some more fun stuff.
Oh, and that hoopla about the skunk? Frankly, I was a little surprised at all the fuss Mommy made about that. I mean, when I found that patch of strong smell in our backyard, I thought to myself, Hooray! Mommy and Daddy sure would be proud if I could cover myself in this stuff. So I gave it a good roll, making sure to really root around in it. And what did they do? They completely freaked out and then washed it right off. Huh. But I got to play in the water in the front yard, which was pretty fun.

Well, bye for now. I asked Kooks if she wanted to contribute anything but she told me to leave her alone because she's napping. A late night and all that. Typical.

Lots of licks,

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Fat Guy in a Little Coat

"Fat guy in a little coat...fat guy in a little coat...fat guy in a leetle coat..."

If these words bring to mind visions of Chris Farley swaying in a teeny tiny sport jacket before finally ripping it to shreds, you should have been with us last weekend for Tommy Boy Night at the "Drive In" in the courtyard at our friends Katie and Nate's house (or "Natie" as I like to refer to them as a couple). Having been obsessed with this classic comedy since high school, Katie and I thought it was time to relive the fun of evenings spent quoting along with the characters by throwing with a theme party. It also was a great excuse to get together with our lovely friends and enjoy a summer evening and refreshments.

So Natie rigged a wicked set up that included a projector on the garage roof and a big screen on which to view the flick. And in case you were wondering about our commitment to the purity of the theme, I can assure you that our menu was 90% movie related. Which meant it was the most disjointed, unhealthy party food ever. Here's a sampling:
  • Shrimp cocktail ("Looks like we caught this guy right after Thanksgiving dinner.")
  • Chicken wings ("Tommy like wingy.")
  • Pizza ("If we didn't get the wings, so what? We still have half a meat lovers pizza in the trunk.")
  • Peanut M&Ms ("They have a thin candy shell. I'm surprised you didn't know that.")
  • Doughnuts ("I have what doctors call 'a little bit of a weight problem.' I used to take bear claws two at a time, and they'd get lodged, RIGHT in this region here.")
  • Whiskey sours ("Eight whiskey sours and I can still sell the son of a b****! [Darn], I'm good!")
  • Mints (" want mint for pillow?")
  • French fries and ketchup packets ("I can actually hear you getting fatter.")
  • Hummus, blue cheese dip, veggies and bruschetta (not movie related, but we were thankful to our friends who ensured we had a least something healthy on the menu)
In addition to appropriate decorations and artery clogging fare, we had a mix of great folks, many of whom loved the movie, and some who'd never seen it, but by the end of the night, I'm pretty sure everyone there was a fan. And who wouldn't be? This movie offers quotes for all occasions.

Let's just say, for instance, your husband breaks the door knob while letting the dog out. What do you say? Not, "Honey, how can I help?" Oh, no. Instead you can take a line from Tommy Callahan and go with, "What'd you doooo?" (Sadly, this is a true story).

Or, and this one really is a hypothetical, you're driving home late at night and see the dreaded flashing police lights behind you. Do you pull over and politely hand over your licence and registration? No, you start to weave your car frantically all over the road and exit the vehicle screaming and swatting yourself while yelling, "Bees! Bees! They're everywhere. They're huge and sting crazy! Save yourselves!" Seems to me this should work pretty much every time.

And on those hot summer days, what can be better than sitting in front of the swivel fan, mouthing, "La la la la, Luke, Luke, I am your faahther, la la low lay la..."? It's from Star Wars, after all.

Ok, so not all of us have the happy-go-lucky demeanor of a rather large but lovable, clutsy, slightly slow Midwesterner. For those who lean to more sarcastic behavior, there's plenty of content fodder for you as well.

What do you do when your classically flakey buddy stands you up? When he says he left a message, you ask, "Really, what number did you call?...Did I catch a 'niner' in there? Were you calling from a walkie talkie?"

Or how about when you catch your spouse lollygagging or daydreaming as you attempt to complete a complicated household project? Simply utter, "I see I've interrupted happy time. I know you'd like to sit there and continue being not [insert adjective], but the rest of us have work to do." (Note: Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, use the original movie line of "not slim" on your wife or girlfriend. Not wise, and if you are not soon single as a result, you will, at the very least, spend many nights in the dog house.)

And when someone calls you out on your snappy attitude, indicating they're picking up on your sarcasm? All you need to say is, "Good, because I'm laying it on pretty thick."

So there you have it. So many useful lines from such a simple movie. I highly encourage you to cultivate your own favorites. And in the the meantime, we'll likely be planning the next theme party. I believe "Office Space" was I just need to find myself a red stapler, a printer and a baseball bat.