You Weren’t Sleeping, Were You?

Since allowing our precious puppy to sleep with us, we have encountered a plethora of interesting late night/early morning goings on that can only equal that of a crack house during peak operation.  Here’s a little rundown of last night’s exploits:

10:30pm – Magilicious takes up position at the end of the bed and begins digging.  She’s a digger.  Don’t ask me what she’s digging, I don’t’ know. 

10:31 –  I promptly replace Mags on her cushy brand new orthopedic bed with chew bones and toys and say the command ‘stay’.  Which she does.  I then secure myself in under the covers and set the tv up.  I’m all comfy and cozy.. 

10:31:03 – I’m suddenly pounced on by a seven pound mound of hair that thinks my face has been dipped in bacon.  After I extract her from my face I again, replace her back on her cushy brand new orthopedic puppy bed with the command  ‘STAY’.  She looks at me like this:

Really?  Yeah, right.

Really? Yeah, right.

 

10:34 – Magalicious cautiously creeps onto the end of the bed as if she’s sneaking up behind a masked villain stealing her doggy treats and she’s about to take him down.  She sees me eying her.  Her ears go down and she gives me that “What?  But I’m cute, right?”  I get up and move her AGAIN to her cushy brand new orthopedic puppy bed with her chew toy.  “ANNNNNDDDDD  STAY”  She gives me the stink eye.  I return to my comfy position.

10:45 – I feel a paw, then another paw, then another one caaarreefully walk on my ankles, then I feel a sudden ‘thump’.  I raise my head to see her walking in circles around my ankles in an attempt to get comfortable and plop herself right on beside my leg.   

10:46-  the door opens and Hubby walks in.  OH NO!  The dog is suddenly on high alert.  She’s standing at attention as if the president just walked into the room, her tail is wagging and in an excited flurry, she jumps down to her cushy brand new orthopedic puppy bed and retrieves her toy and brings it to him like it’s a gift for his majesty for gracing us with his presence.  Give me a fucking break.  Her ears are down, her tail is wagging and she’s just so damned excited she just may pee on her bed.  Which she does.  Great.

11:00 – Everybody is settled…ON OUR BED for the night.  Magalicious eyes me and is smiling smugly…I just know it.

1:00am – A flurry of activity has aroused me from a raucous dreams about Johnny Depp, helicopters and chocolate…dammit.  I feel my fingers being chewed off.  Then my arm is being used as a scratching post. I feel Magalicous climb on my head and try to chew my hair to its roots.  WTF?  I grab her and place her not so gently on the end of the bed.  I lay back down. 

1:00:03am –  A flying object with hair has inexplicably landed on my face and my ear is being chewed off and licked excitedly.   Ugh…I make the fatal mistake of standing up.  She thinks its morning and takes that as a sign we will be getting up now to play!!  “Yay!  Lets’ all go outside and run around and eat grass and bark at the neighbours!”  I grab her but not in time…she leaves a puddle on my comforter.  UUUUggggghhhh….

1:05am –  Magalicious is in her crate for the remainder of the night.  Hubby rolls over.

  “Where’s the comforter?”

  “The dog peed on it”

   “Oh.  Where is she now?” 

“In her crate where she’s staying” I say emphatically. 

“Aw, that’s a sin.  She likes sleeping with us” 

  “IN THE PAST TWO HOURS WHEN HAS SHE SLEPT?”

  “Huh…I didn’t notice anything

Yeah….

The Allergic Hypo-Allergenic Dog

So it seems Maggie is a hypo-allergenic dog that is allergic.  That is, she had an allergic reaction to a vaccine the vet gave her.  Of course, at the time she was having the reaction, Hubby and I erroneously thought the puppy was choking.  Which set off a chain of events that included panic stricken exclamations of “DO SOMETHING!  WHAT SHOULD WE DO?!  IS THERE SUCH A THING AS PUPPY-HEIMLICH?!  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS DOG?!”   Of course there were multiple episodes of sticking our fingers down her throat to see if there was a foreign object lodged down there that we thought we could get out.  Something like a string, a penny (although where would she get a penny? It’s not like we’re throwing random amounts of change all over the floor and expecting her to suck it up like a vacuum cleaner) a piece of foam from her bed that she is determined to maul into chunks, a piece of my coach pillows which she has vehemently attacked, I’m sure out of sheer spite for me not allowing her to chew the baseboards…the list is quite endless so my death scenarios about my dog choking to her early demise were alive and well.

I was then imagining having to tell the neighbourhood how we killed our dog through a choking episode gone horribly awry. I would have to explain how it all went down with the Mags playing with me one minute, then choking wildly on some accidental piece of (insert object here).  I would be branded the WORST pet mommy on the planet and banned from ever owning any kind of animal ever again. I would be ostracized by my friends and community, forced to move and never able to show my face in public again.  It was all so traumatizing.   And how did I manage to raise three children virtually unscathed, so far?  Beats the fuck out of me.  They have more sense than to eat baseboards or suck up an arbitrary cache of loose change, I guess.

I was quickly on the phone to the Animal hospital who patched me through to the vet, who coincidentally, I had just met for the first time that morning, and she said she would meet us at the Animal hospital in half an hour.  In my mind I was screaming, ‘HALF AN HOUR?!!  SHE’LL BE DEAD BY THEN, BITCH!” , but in real everyday voice I said “okay” and hung up.

We were there in twenty minutes and waited for the doctor to show.  Maggie continually pawed at her face and made that “I’m-fucking-choking-and-you-evil-humans-are-sitting-in-a-random-parking-lot-doing-nothing-important” face, along with that open-mouthed gagging crap.  It was all so dramatic.

 At precisely 8pm, the technician arrived and let me in.  She took Maggie to the back to where I was sure she was to be x-rayed and examined with laden tweezers shoved down her throat all in attempts to remove the multiple layers of change I was sure she had inexplicably sucked up off the floor like a Hoover.  The vet came out a few minutes later to tell me Maggie had an allergic reaction to the vaccine she had that morning and after her antihistamine shot, and her anti-inflammatory shot, she would be fine.  I sighed with relief.  I was given directions in administering liquid Benedryl to my doggie prior to future vaccines in order to avoid all of the dramatic allergic reactions and panic-stricken shouts of “HELP ME, MA PUPPY IS DYING, DAMMIT!!!!”.  They patted my head and sent me and my puppy on our way.

So it turns out, I’m not a bad doggie mommy after all…as long as I keep tabs on all that loose change littering the floors….

Maggie's not dead.  Just sleeping.  I know.  Drama Queen!

Maggie’s not dead. Just sleeping. I know. Drama Queen!

“Be funny. You’re not being funny. We were expecting more. You suck”

I was writing a blog post in my head this morning as I was making lunch and breakfast and smiling wanly at the dog who was looking up at me with expectant eyes like “You WILL drop something on the floor for me to eat, right?  ‘Cause that’s the only damn reason for me to be seated at your feet.  That and I feel the inexplicable need to bite your ankles every time you step away from me.”   Yeah.  The post was pretty good.  The only problem is I can’t remember it.  I didn’t have a pen and paper nor the inclination to run for one at that moment, so the post is long gone into the chasm of my memory…there must be so much shit in there that the filing system is completely fucked up.  Seriously, files marked “Shit I Need” are obviously misplaced and gone into the dark abyss of never- never land. The cabinet marked “Garbage That No Other Human on The Face of the Earth Needs or Wants to Know” seems to be correlated by date, time and the place they last washed their feet. Those files are easily accessible and ready at a moment’s notice.  Especially after several glasses of wine and someone proclaiming a trivia game would be awesome right about now.  Fucked. Up.

 So this morning’s blog post is lying somewhere between “Shit I Should Know But Don’t” and “The Most Awesome Facts About Boats”.

This weekend had me spinning wildly between a fun filled DH night with the ladies where it was demanded that I “be funny.  You’re not being funny.  Get her more wine” and D2’s grad.    I’m assuming by the previous DH statements, I wasn’t living up to my “you’re the fucking entertainment” part of my contract.  Maybe I should stop sending out my witty emails in my feeble attempts at humor and pithy attention.  It’s a well-known fact I suffer from Raj-syndrome.  I speak very little but hand me alcohol and I become a sarcastic wino who slings comebacks and insults with mega sardonic phrasing.  I hadn’t realized there were expectations around my verbal nonsense.  That’s a lot of pressure.  I need a drink…and some new material.

Speaking of drunkards, while at D2’s meet and greet portion of her graduation, Hubby and I were entertained by a sufficiently inebriated man who insisted on detailing a story about golfing in the United States.  The story involved an over- ended golf cart and wayward golfers. There was a few racial slurs and sexist innuendos all making that much more awesome for the eavesdroppers surrounding us.  He was going on and on about how only Baymen were the best workers and “I wouldn’t hire a townie to save me life”.   Onlookers were appalled.  Especially a lady who was all decked out in diamonds and an evening gown.  She was particularly insulted.  I was thrilled by her horrified expression and feeble attempts to move out of the way.  There was nowhere to go.  So Larry, tell me more!  We were happily obliging Larry for the next story.  Where the fuck were you last night when I was coming up short for stories for the ladies?  Hire Larry.  He’s available and we could pay him in Lamb’s.  I’ll be sure to invite the evening- gown lady…we probably aren’t going to be invited to any more meet and greets, anyways.  She’s probably on the Regatta Committee…and is disgusted by food fights…and doesn’t think possessing something as awesome as this is ‘appropriate’ for a mother of my stature.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  A dog that sticks it’s tongue out at you on demand is unworthy of attention??!!    If that’s the way you feel, I don’t want to go to your meet and greets.  I don’t want to have dinner with you and your fancy dress.  I don’t want to be in on the secret club meetings at the boat house…okay, yeah I do, but I can let that go if you can’t see how adorable that doggie is!!  Or her tongue!  It’s like she’s giving you the finger only she doesn’t have any fingers so she’s just using her tongue instead.  It’s all incredibly remarkable and awe-inspiring.

It's like she's saying "Fuck You" but in a cute puppy way...

It’s like she’s saying “Fuck You” but in a cute puppy way…

This post actually took me two days to write since I was looking for the perfect pic to go with it.  This may be a sad statement to make, but I have over 100 pictures of my dog on my phone.  100!!! I wonder how my kids feel about that…hmmm…I should be getting my Mother of the Year Award in the mail any day now!  My kids have come to the joyful realization that the dog takes precedence.

 Kid That Lives In My House: “Oh, mom did you remember to pick up my dress?”

  Me: “No, but I got the cutest little hair bows for the dog!”

KTLIMH:  “You forgot to pick me up after my practice…again.”

Me: “Sorry, I was out back playing with the dog.  You wouldn’t want me to neglect her would you?”

 KTLIMH:” THERE’S NO HOT WATER!!”

Me:  “Sorry…I had to give the dog a bath and mini-spa day. She needed to look pretty…she was getting all tangley and mangy looking. AND, you wouldn’t want her to be rejected by the other doggies in the ‘hood, would you?!  She’s got a rep to uphold”

KTLIMH:  *sigh*

Me:  Yeah.  Get used to it kid….

Big Things…I Bring Cups!!

 coffe girls

I’ve noticed recently that if I ever get the least bit annoyed with someone, I instantly refer to that person as an asshole.   Incidentally, there are A LOT of assholes around.   Due to the current economic climate in this province, we are constantly being inundated with emails about lobbying the government.  After each email, I refer to the writer as an asshole and delete it.  I’ve deleted so many emails and labeled each author according to his asshole seniority number.  So far, the seniority ends at number twenty five.  Asshole number twenty five sounds like he needs therapy and strong intervention techniques to quell his over-riding anger management issues.  Asshole twelve is immature and requires some English translation lessons.  Of course, this whole thing could be attributed to my over-active sensitivity issues due to the lack of grains in my diet and my heightened need for sugar.  Just sayin’….

I was on Twitter when I noticed that the winner of the Pulitzer Prize in Literature was a book about North Korea and carries the reader “into the most intimate spaces of the human heart” Sounds totally depressing to me. If I ever win a Pulitzer for my awesome book, I won’t be carrying readers to any totalitarian countries that are ready to aim missiles at your head just so the reader could experience it or visit intimate spaces in people’s hearts.  That’s too weird, even for me.  My book would probably cover the wild and wacky world of taxidermy…or the controversial world of flatulence smell reduction underwear inventors…true story.

I’ve realized that I’m totally addicted to caffeine and sugar.  Since limiting my carbohydrate intake to a few spare pieces of fruit and accidental bread crumbs that happen to land on the floor that I invariably fight the dog for, I have noticed my dependency on coffee has risen substantially.  I’ve also become distinctly aware that if I don’t drink said coffee in a timely manner, I become a snarling bitch ready to stab you in the face should you decide to get in my way.  Case in point.  This morning’s conversation with Hubby:

Me:  Can you get in the shower soon please?  I have to get ready too.

Him:  Relax it’s only 6:20!

Me: *grumble, fuck off, grumble, bitch*

Ten minutes later:

Me:  Can you puhlease get in the shower?  Ugh, I KNEW I should have got in there before you!  God, I was going to, blah, blah blah, blah

Him: For Pete’s sake (Author’s note:  That would be me: I don’t know who Pete is, but for his sake, I should have shut up already)

Me:  I HAVE TO GET TO WORK

Him:  It’s 6:30! You don’t need to be at work until 8:00!!

Me: *irritated silence*

Ten minutes later

Him:  I’m getting in the shower now

Me:  It’s about time!  I’ve been waiting…I so should have gone first.  I don’t know why I was….blah, blah, blah…*stocks off to the kitchen whilst the dog is biting my pant leg which leads to dragging said snarling dog along the kitchen floor while I attempt to pour more coffee and continually complain about Hubby’s slowness and lack of consideration for others who have to get to work, dammit*

Fifteen minutes later

Him:  Didn’t you hear me?  I yelled I was out of the shower so you could get in since you’re in such a hurry this morning

Me:  NO, I DIDN’T HEAR YOU SINCE I WAS BUSY MAKING YOUR LUNCH AND HELPING TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE AND TRYING TO GET THE FUCKING DOG DETACHED FROM MY PANT-LEG!!

Him:  Okay, you don’t have to get all snippy about it.

Me: Was I snippy?  Hmpft.  You would be too if you had to wait for you to get out of the shower.

Him:  *rolls eyes and leaves*

Good idea….

Life Lessons I Learned From My Dog

Maggie and her best "Am I adorable or what?" face

Maggie and her best “Am I adorable or what?” face

Eat when you’re hungry

Run like you’re chasing a car and your life depended on catching it

Find a warm spot and take a nap

Don’t let anyone tell you you can’t do something.  What do they know?

Snow is for playing in, puddles are for splashing and dirt is for digging.  Any questions?

Cuteness will get you everything you want

Vacuum cleaners are horrid things and should be avoided at all costs

Walking is for sissys

Stairs are for jumping

A kiss is worth a thousand ‘I love yous’

The best spot in the house is under the covers

Always greet loved ones at the door by running and jumping into their arms

Play games every day

Good grooming is the key to gleaning compliments

Daily treats are a must since good behavior is a virtually impossible feat

Never under estimate the power of a good hug

Know that you are loved