Conversations With…The Dog

Me:  Mags, stop eating the sock.

Mags: I love socks.  Socks are heaven.  This one is my precious.  You can’t have it.  STOP LOOKING AT IT.  IT’S MINE.

Me: If you get all paranoid and possessive I will take that from you.

Mags: Oh, no you won’t!  You have to catch me first!

Me: Oh, God.  I’m not chasing you.   This is me walking away.

Mags: Okay, but look at the sock I have.  I’m going to follow you, and jump on you and pee on the floor from how exciting this sock is.

Me:  Ugh, stop being so annoying and PUT DOWN THE DAMNED SOCK!

Mags:  No.  I love the sock.  The sock loves me.  We are inseparable.  We Looooove each other.

Me:  You know the sock is a thing and not a living breathing thing, right?

Mags: Tsk, you doubt my intelligence human.  Now stop bothering me and look at my sock.

Me:  No

Mags: YES! LOOK AT MY SOCK. IT’S A GLORIOUS SOCK!!!

Me: Stop chewing bits off of it and eating it.  You’re going to get digestive problems

Mags: NO, I WON’T!  I LOVE MY SOCK!!!!

Me:  Here look.  Cheerios.  Cheerios are better to eat than socks.   Gawd, I think I said that to one of the kids before….

Mags: WHAT?!   YOU HAVE CHEERIOS?!

Me: Yes, and I’m just going to casually lay them here on the bed so you can eat them…see?

Mags: Hmmm….but, sock though…

Me:  Cheerios, Mags.  Come and have some cheerios…yummmm…

Mags:  Well, maybe just one…

Me: *snatches sock from floor as Mags eats Cheerios*

Mags:  I love Cheerios!

Me:  I know, Mags.  I know….

Maggie 2013

It’s like she’s saying, “Fuck You and give me a sock” but in a cute puppy way…

 

The Phone Poltergeists are Taking Over the World

My phone is possessed.  I have dropped it twelve too many times and now it simply does whatever the fuck it wants.  Like switching apps at random times.  Fading my background to eerie France-like colours that was all in support of Je Suis Charlie last year, but not my choice right now.  I like actually being able to view what’s on my home screen.  While I’m still a supporter of France (who isn’t?  Uh, wine) I don’t think the colors should be fading in and out on my phone.  It also has decided to start prank-calling random people on my contact list at very inopportune times of the day. Like 5am.   I received a voice mail from the breeder of Mags desperately asking if the dog was all right since I have called her twice and hung up.  Apparently, that signals ‘dog emergency’ and she became concerned that Mags had become a crazed victim of rabies, or biting or anti-social behaviour.  All of which are more than a possibility, however, I was forced to send breeder a soothing text alighting that Mags was indeed alive and well and, albeit anti-social and a pain in my ass, still fine.  Not rabid.  Not lost.  Not eating shit off the floor…wait.  Okay, maybe that last one.  I dismissed attempting to tell her my phone called her all by itself…Suuuure it did.  Like who would believe a phone can make phone calls all by itself?  Next, you’ll tell me there’s an artificial intelligence movement where machines will eventually take over the world and we should be cautious….

ai4

 

Mmmm…K.

I’ve taken to blaming the strange events as the work of Perry the Poltergeist. Icons are being activated without my hand being anywhere near the phone and my home screen scares me.  I stare at it waiting for Pennywise from It to appear and scare the beejesus out of me.  Seriously.  I even had to alert friends on FB assuring them that I was not prank calling at 5:00am and if I ever DID do that, I certainly would have done more than simply hung up.  Gawd, do you know me at all?!  The very least would have been heavy breathing…then maniacal laughter…I’m liking this idea..

So, if you have fallen victim to my evil phone, I apologize.  AND, if you receive a prank call very early in the morning, it wasn’t me…probably.  It was that Perry…He can be such a dick sometimes…

Dec. 2014 065

Mags.  Still ok and eating shit off the floor…

 

 

Conversations with Mags…the Dog

Me: Mags, we need to talk about this ‘attitude’ you seem to have developed.
Mags: What?! Attitude?! Me? ! I have no ‘attitude’. I’m just a better dog than all the others, that’s all
Me: Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re not better. In fact, you are anti-social and don’t like humans or dogs. You’re a downright bitch.
Mags: Well of course I am. I’m a female dog. The smartest and prettiest dog ever. AND, humans that come to MY door need to pass a security test. I smell them to make sure they are okay to enter MY house. I’m protecting you. I don’t know why you get so upset when I bark at intruders. They need to be screened. You humans are so trustworthy and stupid. Gawd.
Me: Okay, first of all we are NOT stupid and since when did you use the word “Gawd”?
Mags: Our human child says it all the time when you’re not here.
Me: ‘Our’? Ugh, I suppose she does. And not all humans are untrustworthy, Mags. You trust me, right?
Mags: Barely. You need all the help you can get. You let anybody come traipsing in here with their little humans who incessantly chase me around and try to pet my head. I hate that.
Me: I let people we know in the house. Not complete strangers.
Mags: The dude that fixed the fridge was what? Your bestie? I hardly think so. And you let those other humans sit in my spot and mess up my blankie. Poor blankie….
Me: Yeah…okay. Speaking of ‘bestie’ you need friends and you can’t have friends if you bark at them and antagonize other dogs all the time. You’re getting a bad rep and you need to be friendlier.
Mags: Other dogs are stupid. They slobber and walk around as if the world is a happy place. It isn’t happy! It’s scary. Stupid.
Me: Mags…how about Howard?* You like him, right? You guys play together after you ‘screen’ him, right?
Mags: Howard is an idiot. That dog just sits there and stares blankly into space. Does he not know how to chase a ball or run? Seriously, what’s wrong with him?! I run around the yard and he just sits there and looks at me like I’M the one that needs help.
Me: That’s because you scare the crap out of him! If you let him sniff you and…
Mags: Wait a minute…YOU WANT ME TO LET THAT IDIOT SNIFF ME??!! ARE YOU CRAZY??!! That dog is going nowhere near my butt….
Me: It’s how you animals make friends, Mags.
Mags: Where do you get your information from, Mom?
Me: Ugh, anyway Howard is adorable. He’s all fluffy and cute and is actually FRIENDLY TO PEOPLE.
Mags: Yeah…dummy. Just like I said.
Me: You need to at least try, Mags.
Mags: Okay, I’ll let our human daughter’s friend in. I like her.
Me: Yeah, obviously. You pee on the floor every time she walks in the door.
Mags: I get so happy. Is she coming over now?! IS SHE HERE?!! HERE?!!
Me: NO! Stop it.
Mags: Ugh….let’s play ball! I wanna play ball!
Me: We aren’t done talking, yet.
Mags: BALL! BALL! BALL!
Me: NO
Mags: BALL! WUBBA!! WUBBA!! *runs to the door* I GOTTA PEE!
Me: Okay, but NO BARKING AT THE NEIGHBOURS!
Mags: JUST LET ME OUT I HAVE TO GO!!
Me: Okay, okay. There.
Mags: *stands stationary for five minutes surveying the yard, then…* BARK, BARK, BARK!!!
Me: Mags!! Come here!
Mags: *runs happily to me* WHAT?! GAWD, THEY STARTED IT!
Me: Ugh….
*fictional name to protect the innocent…and adorable.
I think Mags just rolled her eyes at me. Can dogs do that?

I'm so pretty, it hurts.

I’m so pretty, it hurts.

Conversations With….The Dog

Maggie: I shall sit upon your lap and chew on this tasty bone for the next few hours. You are my favoritist human and I shall not be vacated from this spot for any reason whatsoever.
Me: Okay, Mags I need to get up. I have stuff to do. Can’t be lounging around here all day while you chew that nasty looking bone.
Mags: I’ll ignore that last ‘nasty’ remark and remain seated fervently chewing upon said bone. I am your best dog.
Me: Up! Mags, Up! I gotta go. (shoos Maggie from my lap)
Mags: Well! That’s quite rude! I wasn’t finished yet! Oh, wait are you getting food?! I LOVE FOOD!? *jumps wildly around my feet* FOOD! FOOD! FOOD! I WANT FOOD! I’M SO HUNGRY I HAVEN’T EATEN IN LIKE HOURS.
Me: No, Mags I’m not getting any food. Calm down. You have food in your bowl you haven’t touched yet.
Mags: FOOD! FOOD! I LOVE HAMBURGERS! ARE THOSE HAMBURGERS?! THAT’S MY FAVOURITE!!! IS THAT CHEESE! OH HOW I LOVE CHEESE! *jump, jump*
Me: Ugh, Maggie. NO! Stop jumping! Look! I have a ball! *tosses ball down the hall* GO GET IT!!
Mags: OH MY GAWD YOU JUST THREW MY FAVORITIST BALL!! *scurries after the ball and brings it back. Places it at my feet for another throw* Here you go. You lost this. THROW IT AGAIN!!!
Me: Seriously, I have stuff to do. *tosses ball* GO GET IT!
Mags: I GOTTA GET THE BALL!! *retrieves the ball and places it at my feet. Sits staring up at me: Um, here you go! Hehe…waiting here…THROW IT AGAIN!!!
Me: Ugh, Mags. *throws the ball* GO GET IT!!
Mags: I’LL GET IT!! *chases the ball when one of the kids comes in with a friend* YOU! HUMAN! I KNOW YOU! I DO NOT RECOGNIZE OTHER HUMAN WITH YOU! INTRUDER! INTRUDER! I SHALL BARK AND JUMP VICIOUSLY TO SCARE AWAY NASTY INTRUDER!! BARK! BARK! I AM PROTECTING YOU. STAY BACK!
Me: MAGGIE! Shhh…(so doesn’t work) *D2 opens the door and allows friend in to let Maggie have a sniff.
Maggie:*sniff, sniff* BARK! I don’t know you! BARK! You might be a vicious intruder. *sniff, sniff* Hey!! DO YOU HAVE A DOG, TOO??!! *sniff, sniff* I SMELL SOMETHING! DO YOU THINK I’M PRETTY?! MY HUMAN SAYS I’M PRETTY SO I MUST BE. YOU WILL THINK SO TOO. I SMELL BACON!! DO YOU HAVE BACON?! ARE YOU MADE OF BACON??!! I WANT SOME I WANT SOME I WANT SOME!! I think I love you….*follows new friend around the house and sits on her lap* AHH…BACON….
Me: Oh, God…

What?  I'm pretty.  That's all you need to know....

What? I’m pretty. That’s all you need to know….

 

Joyful Santas and Gangsta Mags Are All The Rage, Yo!

Hello, there.  What’s new?  How have you been?  Read any good books lately?  Seen a good movie or two?  Me? Nah…I’ve been doing shit.  You know, getting shit done.  This and that.  Moving and grooving…I can’t be any more specific or I’ll have to keeeeeelllll you…or something.

Get the feeling I’m rambling?  Yeah, me too.  I’ve actually been painting.  Not walls, but I decided to take up my tole painting brush and start again.  After ten years of doing nothing at all, I thought painting some Christmas themed stuff would be fun!  Yeah.  Although ‘fun’ is not the word I would use, it has been productive and relaxing.

Of course, I decided to do this in October, so searching up for supplies has been a challenge.  Did you know that nobody tole paints anymore?  Or some people refer to it as Folk Art painting.  Whatever the fuck it’s called, NOBODY does it anymore… Who knew?  Ugh…leave it up to me to pick up a hobby that died out with troll babies and Ninja turtles.  But, they made a come-back, right?  So can I.

I dug out my paints in the bowels of the basement.  They are still encased in a large wooden crate that has been half painted.  I gave them all a shake and they were as good as new…almost.   I discovered that they don’t make the paint I used, so now I have to switch. The only problem is that all of the colors are different now.  So, search up handy-dandy conversion chart and now I have to mix and match new colors and buy the ones that I simply can’t create myself.

Santa that I painted...I like him even if he looks depressed.  Joy is not his name.

Santa that I painted…I like him even if he looks depressed. Joy is not his name.

 Joyful Santa here was done on canvas.  I really liked the way he turned out despite his cheery demeanor and purplish-alcoholic nose.  Nothing says ‘Merry Christmas’ more than a framed alcoholic Santa!  Yay me! I loved him so much, I made him a part of my mantel.

Now, I’m working on Santa number two also in canvas, but once that’s finished, I have to search out some new wooden material and that ain’t easy…(I can see you when you do that, “I GOT YOUR WOOD RIGHT HERE”    Yeah.) Maybe if I lop off a tree branch and sand it down I could have something to paint…Or, my fence would be good.  But Hubby would have to tear down part of it, dry it and bring it in so I could paint it…bit of a pain.  And the dog would escape and terrorize the ‘hood, so we can’t have Mags running loose.  She’s already got an attitude with her new sweaters…I bought her a hooded pink one.  She sorta looks like Missy Elliott now.  Scary.

Gangsta Mags...she's comin' at you, bro!

Gangsta Mags…she’s comin’ at you, bro!

 Next she’ll be doing gangsta rap and looking for a posse to hang with.  All the other dogs will want to join her and we’ll have Spike, Cooper, Reese, Max, Charlie, Hershey and of course, Special Needs Petey (He’s special)  and the leader Mags with their hooded sweaters and their swagger….the ‘hood has gone to the dogs…literally.

All that from a bit of painting…*sigh*   Anyways, my apologies for ma blogging buds for ma absence as of late.  I have been reading, just not commenting.  I will return when this painting urge/thing/obsession recedes a bit and I can get back to writing and reading and socializing and being my old annoying and sweary self.  I know…miss me, yet?

And if you see any troll babies around, throw one out ma way, will ‘ya?

Adventures in Puppy School

This week we have embarked on a new and wild adventure.  Bad Girl Puppy School for the one and only Mags.  Her behaviour isn’t as crappy as her You-are-my-human-and-will-bend-to-my-will attitude.  Yeah.  So, in getting the Magster to bend to OUR will, we have decided to take her to some puppy training to get her used to dogs…and other human beings.  She tends to get highly offended at the mere presence of another human of whom she has not yet approved waltzing into her house.  It’s all very dramatic.  Here are a few things I learned at Bad Girl Puppy School thus far:

There are more messed up hounds than mine

The trainer trains the humans, not the dogs

Treats are the best way to learn something new…works for dogs too.

Drunk-walking your dog is apparently not a good way to teach proper leash technique. Who knew?!

It’s a good idea to have a witness with you in attendance for Bad Girl Puppy School so that when you get home your family is not giving you the you-are-totally-shitting-us-with-this-messed-up-clicker-crap look and think you went to the bar and had a few whiskey sours and met up with some hobo (are there hobos around anymore?  Is there such a thing as a hobo?  This is a whole other post)  who insisted you take the 99 cent clicker he found outside of Pet Smart so you took it to appease him and shut him up instead of going to puppy school.  Which I totally think would be awesome if the puppy would sit quietly so I could enjoy a few at the bar, but that’s the reason the puppy is in puppy school in the first place.  She can’t sit.  Apparently, I’ve done everything wrong up until now and so should not be in charge of any living creatures that have more than two legs.  They’ll probs call social services and remove the kids as well, since they have trouble sitting too.  It’s all ego-bashing and eye-opening at the same time.  I’m confused.  I’ll probs be leashing the boy and trying to take him for a walk while incessantly clicking the fucking clicker in his face instead of taking Mags , who by the way, is afraid of the stupid clicker thingy.  Awesome.

The best dog name I’ve heard so far: Benny.

He’s a messed up cross between a cocker spaniel and a pit-bull.  He’s fucking awesome and barked at everything that moved.  He was about to take down a huge boxer but the boxer wimped out.  Made our Magalicious look sweet and innocent by comparison.  Bad Girl Puppy School is making Maggie look like we won the puppy lottery…until we go home and see her with other well-behaved dogs.  Then we revert back to ‘we suck as puppy parents’.  It’s a vicious cycle, really.

We go again on Monday night and we have a few ‘assignments’ to complete in the mean time.  So far Mags has learned the sum of a big fat zero.  On the positive side, she loves her treats!  I shall keep you all updated on her progress, but I’m not guaranteeing any results.  If I can get a snap of Benny, everybody’s fave wild-mad-dog, I shall post if his puppy parent agrees.

It’s all fun and games until someone loses a treat…and gets a detention at Bad Girl Puppy School.

Maggie after a hard day at Bad Girl Puppy School..."That Benny is one crazy puppy!!!"

Maggie after a hard day at Bad Girl Puppy School…”That Benny is one crazy puppy!!!”

Things I Learned While Drunk-Walking My Dog

Yes, drunk-walking…what?  Oh, like you’ve never done that.  Stop looking at me like that.  It happened to be a lovely summer evening with little breeze and the moon out in full glorious glow.  I had a few glasses of wine on my front porch and with Hubby inside watching some soccer match or something that kills all my brain cells just thinking about it, I thought taking Magalicious for a walk before her bed time would be a totally fantastical idea.  Yeah.

I learned a few things during this walk.  First, I can’t walk straight if I’m drunk. 

Second, everything is fucking hilarious.  Maggie was walking happily along, or pulling along, and I thought “Oh My Gawd that’s so funny!”  The neighbours probs was about to dial 911 when seeing me laughing hysterically at nothing while stumbling behind a 10 pound puppy at 11 o’clock at night.

Third, I was expecting Freddy Krueger to pounce out at me at any given time, so I was ready with my vicious dog all decked out in her bad ass polka-dotted bow.

GAH! Get ye away, Matey!

GAH! Get ye away, Matey!

  Yeah.  We be bad, yo.  I was ready to sick her on his ass as soon as he darted out from the neighbours’ bushes or darkened garage.  In my mind, he had a pirate’s accent and would be all “Arrgh, matey’s.  What ye be up to this fine evening?” and then show us his Kruger-like fingers with the stabby knives and shit.  Maggie would bark and scare him away and we would return home all happy that Freddy got scared of a little girly puppy with a red polka-dotted bow.  Awwwww…..

The terrifyingly cute Mags...that bow is scary, people.

The terrifyingly cute Mags…that bow is scary, people.

And THIS  is why I should not drunk-walk my dog….