#&^;!*#@( My Dog Eats And Refrigerated Cats

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My kids on the first day of school in “the secret passageway”.

Hello people of blogland!  I’m still here!  It just happens that the month of August has been a busy one for me.  All at once it seems that my life has been turned all cobblewonky.  I got a job, my husband got thrown on a team at work, and then both kids went to school.

You know just when I thought I had it all together, I put my cat in the fridge and my dog ate a spatula.

Maybe I really don’t have it “all together”.  As a matter of fact, maybe it’s quite the opposite.  By looking at what was on the surface you’d think all the planets were aligning.  After all, I’m earning some income for the first time in over a year, income that half is not going towards childcare.  It’s part-time, which means theoretically I should be able to write as well.

Yet there I sat this afternoon. I was sitting on the floor in a small room surrounded by assorted sizes of pom poms, box upon box of fabric, and 1000 plus pieces of craft wood. I had to go through all of this stuff gathered and donated from years and years past trying to figure out just what I had to work with.  After the foam stickers that did not stick debacle, I wondered how the heck I was ever going to do this?  How was I going to find the time to get through all of this stuff, keep my act together, entertain droves of children each week, take care of my own children, maintain my house, AND blog?  Let’s face it. I haven’t exactly written much of anything worth mentioning lately.  The few little ideas that trickle their way out of my brain go down into print, but I can’t get the words right to convey what I want.

Add to that it’s been 100 degrees for days.  I’m sure my brain has been sizzling right along with the proverbial eggs frying on the sidewalk.  (Side note:  I may have to try that this weekend, The Professor has asked every stinking day about it.  “Mom can you REALLY fry an egg on the sidewalk????  I’d REALLY love to find out!!”).

It may be hot, but not too hot to poke fun at the weather:

I also have been falling asleep sitting up at my computer at the time of night when I should really be writing.  It’s the perfect storm for nonproduction.

So what was that about the animals?  Oh yes…

The dog has been pretty good, and we have had to leave him in the house during the day lest he melt into a puddle of pooch.  Each day I have lectured him before I walked out of the house, giving him the standard “Don’t pee/poop/chew on anything or hold wild doggie parties” speech.  I’ve stopped in once during the middle of the day just to be sure he didn’t eat the cat.  No really, I have actually told my boss that I need to go make sure there was no cat snacking of any kind going on.  So far, so good.

Although the cat was intact, I started finding chewed up pieces of black plastic.  What the heck had he chewed up NOW?  It’s not real smart you know.  If I were to chew anything up while Evil Genius was gone I would at least dispose of the evidence.  Regardless of what  was left, I was really dumbfounded about what he had destroyed.  Obviously nothing too important was missing.

Then I pulled out a spatula to cook dinner with and realized what he had done.  He’d eaten one of my frickin spatulas.  Not just ANY spatula-the cute little Pampered Chef one that I use for brownies.  Noooo!  Not my brownie spatula!

Must be time to go to get a new spatula:

After my minus one spatula food preparation experience, I went to put leftovers away.  I put the containers in the refrigerator, closed the door, and proceeded to grab a bag to put my husband’s lunch for the next day.  There was the kitten, sitting on the bottom shelf of the fridge, looking at me like I had rudely interrupted his fun.

Upon relaying this information to Evil Genius, we both came to the conclusion that we really need to watch that little thing a bit more closely.

Don’t think I don’t have theories about this.  I bet he was probably trying to figure out if the light really DID turn out when the refrigerator closes as well as just trying to stay cool.  And the dog?  He probably needed to internally flip something that he had eaten previously.  Makes sense to me!

I'll eat kitchen utensils and you climb into appliances, deal?

I’ll eat kitchen utensils and you climb into appliances, deal?

Needless to say, I’d like to thank these two for helping me eek out a post that wasn’t a sobby essay about my daughter going to kindergarten.  I’ll spare you all that for at least a few more days.  Hopefully the mojo will return and I will be happily tapping away at my keyboard in no time…

I hope you have a fabulous Labor Day weekend.  I’m not sure if there will be a wrap-up this week or not.  As I stated last week, we’re making the switch to a new internet provider.  If all goes well, I’ll be around as usual this next week.  If not, well, it was nice knowing you!

Tails of Destruction: The Dog Unleashed

This could be my dog.

DOGS CHEW ON STUFF!!!!

It’s the aggravating part of being a dog owner.  This is why I remain a cat person.  She keeps her destruction confined to the banister.  And the occasional hairballs on the carpet.  I’m hoping that if we ever replace our banister that I can just mount what’s left somewhere so she won’t move on to other sculpturing projects.  Our next cat will be declawed!

“People are always saying he’s a cat person.  No. If he were a cat person, they would be like, he never goes near the pool.”  -Demetri Martin.  Just had to throw that in there…

You sure can’t detooth a dog, however.  Our dog, the Big Oaf, is six months old and is still a puppy.  He chews, not only because he’s teething but because he has a separation anxiety issue.  He only likes to chew on things he can actually destroy.  So nothing rubber, of course.  He loves anything made of material.  What this means to him is “I loooooooooove soft things.”  What is means to us is a good percentage of our house is vulnerable to attack.  We’ve tried giving him his own stuffed animals and soft material things to chew on.  All it does is get him extra wound up.  Oh you gave me something I’m allowed to chew on, let’s play!

He’s unpredictable, we never know when he’s going to strike.  He’ll go several days without destroying anything, and then will go on a destructive rampage.

This week we got him fixed.  I’ve had a hard time getting the kids to understand WHY he needed to be fixed.  The Professor and Princess kept looking at him trying to figure out what was broken.  I tried explaining that when we adopted him that part of our agreement with the shelter is that he needed to NOT be able to make baby dogs.  To which the Professor began drawing up plans that included giving puppies to neighbors, friends, and people walking down the street.  I think if we hadn’t been in the car at the time he would have drawn up some flowcharts.  Obviously he was missing the point here, and me going on and on about all the unwanted pets in the world was not working.  It finally ended with me saying it wasn’t negotiable END OF CONVERSATION!

Animals, like humans, can’t have food twelve hours before surgery.  The night before we put everything up that was food related, including the rawhide chews. This was unnerving to me, because without chews all soft material things in the house were vulnerable.  The last time he was without his chew stick he ate one hat and one crown-at least he chose a theme.  Evil Genius INSISTED that we did not need to put the dog in the bedroom and shut him in.  Why would he care, it’s not HIS stuff getting destroyed, at least not yet. After everyone else went to bed, I kept an extra close eye on him while I was doing stuff downstairs.  I fell asleep on the couch while I was waiting for it to cool off enough to open the windows (when it’s warm outside it’s toasty upstairs even with the a/c on.)  I woke up to find the dog laying on me, snoozing away.  I figured he was good and tired, opened the windows and went to bed.

The next morning I came downstairs to get my son up for school and witnessed a scene of mass destruction.  The dog had pulled a pair of winter boots out of the container of stuff for the consignment shop and had decimated them.  Bits of black nylon and foam everywhere as far as the eye can see!  Does that count as eating?  Will he die in surgery because he may have ingested some seemingly delicious black foamy stuff?  The vet, who has an awesome sense of humor, alleviated my fear when I dropped the dog off.  He said that at least he made a set by chewing both boots.

While the dog was gone, the cat was elated.  I hated to tell her that the dog would be returning.  She acted a bit like this:

This is just a reenactment of course.

When we returned to the vet eight hours later, we left with one dog, three days worth of pain meds, four months worth of flea treatment, but no cone of shame.  No cone!  How do we keep a dog who chews on his own legs to not chew on his incision?  The evening consisted of me staring at him yelling NO!  every time his mouth went anywhere near that area.  Being a puppy, he was only slightly phased by the ordeal, other than a little extra sleep.  By nightfall he had already managed to get his nose almost taken off by the cat.  He missed her, she didn’t miss him.  He doesn’t quite get why not everybody likes him.  I’ve tried explaining this:  she really doesn’t like much of anybody.

I was a little nervous about going to bed, worried about what I would find in the morning, since he started getting all wound up about the time I was ready to turn in.  My fears were unfounded.  The next morning:  no destruction and the stitched area was still intact.  And the cat didn’t kill him in his sleep…