Roaring Corgi

Thanks for the effort?

Crazy Dog, in case you weren't aware, has intestinal problems. For some history lessons, see here, here, and here. So every morning my partner tries to feed that damn dog and on a regular basis, he will refuse to eat. There is a mathematical formula to predict the future when that happens:

CD refuses to eat + any human pack member leaving the house = violent, disgusting bile puke all over the floor

Where he used to actually make it to the tile floor to clean out his stomach fluids, he is now heading toward the bathroom door where there is carpet. Why?

I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS EXCUSE FOR AN ANIMAL DOES ANYTHING HE DOES.

So we started putting a towel in front of the bathroom so if he had to puke, well then fine, let him puke. He would just have to puke on a towel rather than the carpet. Once we started this he just stopped puking, refused to puke on this silly towel. For the love of anything holy, thank you.

Then. Then today he thought well crap, I can just puke IN FRONT OF the towel, therefore still puking on the carpet, therefore thwarting the humans again.

Thanks for listening. I just remembered I needed to go post a free dog on Craigslist.

Crazy Dog Journal #10

First, I was sleeping.
Then, Roxy was biting my ear.
Then, I BIT HER FACE.

My little cuddly pup.

For all of Crazy Dog's faults, he is the cuddliest little bugger. I'm fairly certain that his motives for being such a cuddly pup are completely selfish. Me=softer than the ground. And because I have some sort of need for a warm furry body breathing against me (my partner doesn't have enough body hair to be a legitimate alternative to Crazy Dog), I will admit it. I indulge him. Anytime he wants it. I'm such a dog cuddle slut. And he uses me, that dog.

But seriously, if you weren't so stoic and you didn't kid yourself, don't you just want to squish his little face folds?

JUST LOOK AT THAT PICTURE. He was so super tired (or acting that way) one day that I bundled him in a blanket and let him sleep on the couch next to me. Websters, his back foot is near his front foot! How is that NOT cute? Look at the little hairs in between his toes! <gasp!>

Of course with his foot that close to his face, and because I am grossly aware of his mental inadequacies, I can't help but think of this dog... And I am almost certain Crazy Dog will wake up and do exactly this:

The art of conversation. And no conversation.

I was messaging my partner about a very important subject concerning stress and work and I was rambling and ranting and spilling my guts much in the same way I am doing right here right now in this very post, and when I stopped - finally - I hear crickets on the other end of the IM window. And I know there are no crickets there, not really, but it felt like it because there was no "....typing...." on the bottom of the chat window and it was starting to hurt my feelings so I did this:

Me: hi?

To which he did this:

Him: hi!

And then after I threw my monitor through my window, and plugged in a new one, I replied:

Me: welcome. we are doing this thing?
Me: what's it called....?
Me: HAVING A CONVERSATION

Relations

It's so official. I AM my grandmother's granddaughter. Seems like an obvious statement? Perhaps. Today I woke up at the sound of my alarm at 6am and decided then and there to screw it and sleep until 7am and get into work at 9am. I have been pulling long hours recently and so has my partner, making it difficult to see each other, much less do laundry, go to the gym and clean up all the dog dirtiness around the house. <sigh>

After I snoozed for an hour, I threw on what I would call a "less-than-well-thought-out outfit" and ran out the door.

Aw, that's sweet of you. Don't be concerned. I match. I have covered all my not professional parts. It's the hair. The dog hair.

After two cups of coffee (yes, it's one of those days) I needed to use the bathroom in a major way. Well. I went in and saw my reflection in the mirror and perched on my chest were several stray corgi hairs. EVEN AFTER I HAD CHECKED AND PULLED A FEW OFF THIS MORNING.

That crap is like swine flu. It just clings. Or something.

So here I am having meetings, under the impression that people are taking me seriously, meanwhile there are dog hairs just chillin' on my sweater. How, may I ask, can ANYONE take someone like that seriously?

The first thought that hit my brain was that I was just like my grandmother, Lois. She had cats. And by "she had cats" I mean she was a cat lady. Oh yes. I am related to one. If there wasn't the proverbial coffee stain on her shirt, there was cat hair there to take it's place.

So after I had that thought I de-stressed a bit. Nothing like remembering one of the greatest, most kind and funny (and liberal! w00t grandma!) people that ever lived. She passed several years ago but I think of her often and miss her even more often.

Love you and miss you terribly grandma.