Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Mine and Yours: Leashed pets make us all better neighbors. (Alternate title "To Boldly Go")

Dear neighbor,

Our city's leash laws are in effect to protect both our dogs and us.

I know that you don't leash your dogs because you trust them to come when you call.  I know you think you have dogs that have been taught not to wander off too far out of your yard.

But do you realize what that exciting foreign land IS that's located "not too far" out of your yard?

MY yard.

Interesting fact about my yard:  It is not yours.  I own it.  There are invisible lines measured by the city that make it legally separate from yours.  The divisions are not visible to the naked eye, but I swear to you that they do exist.  So you see, my yard and your yard are not one and the same.  You rent the property next to mine.  That does not mean any adjacent area becomes an extension of your personal dog park.  If it did, I would be seeing a cut of the money you're paying your landlord.

You would not have a picnic in my yard, build a tree-fort in my yard, or host drunken lawn-dart tournaments in my yard.  You would probably not pull your already low-hanging pants down the rest of the way and take a dump in my yard and you should not be letting your dogs do so either.

That's what YOUR yard is for.  And you don't have to clean that up.  In fact, if you want to leave the dog crap out there until the spring thaw turns your yard into poop soup, that's between you and your landlord, but you do not rent shitting space on my property.  My yard is MY YARD.  It will never be your yard no matter how much your un-neutered little mongrel with the magically refilling bladder pisses on it.  

When my dog is out on his leash and your dogs come over to investigate, I would suggest having them on leashes as well.  If they are on leashes of their own, you might be better able to get them back under your control when they get a little too far up in the old boy's business and Brinkley teaches them the important lesson that, just like my yard, his ASS is also not their playground.

I'm glad Brinkley defended his most personal property.


To recap:  What's mine is mine and what's your'n got PWND.


Readers:  No dog was actually hurt in this incident, thankfully, but it could have gone either way and that's always a little frightening.  Do you have an irresponsible dog owner in your neighborhood?  Share your stories with me.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Pig Sitting

We agreed to take care of Lily's former class pet over spring break as a favor to her old 4th grade teacher.  She's a guinea pig and a lovely house guest, despite being a bit of a squeaky wheel.  We'll make her comfortable here, and shower her with love and affection...provided that she follows the rules of the house.

So welcome back, Bugsly.  I hope you will enjoy your stay with us.  
Wake up call at 8 a.m.?  Of course, ma'am.  Fresh Timothy hay daily?  Very good, ma'am.  Snuggling on Sam's lap for hours at a time?  Absolutely, ma'am.  Leaving little brown Tic-Tacs on my furniture?  

Fuck you, pig.

Monday, April 12, 2010

And the Truth Shall Set You Free (Even Though You Smell Like Pee).

Fade in: My living room. Picture me cuddling with my seven year old and my nine year old daughters. Enter husband, wearing serious face.

"Honey, you'll want to come see this."

Me: *sigh*

I followed him to the kitchen, where my husband, soul-mate, sugar daddy said, "That's pee on the floor," as he made a grand, sweeping gesture with his hand. Yes, indeedily, it certainly was pee, and a good portion of the kitchen floor and a step-stool were covered with it. The dog hasn't hosed down a room like that in some time and quite frankly, the husband hasn't either. I knew who the culprit was by the fact that the dog wasn't the only pantless one in the kitchen. I looked at the guilty three-year-old Samantha and said, "Sam, did you pee on the floor?" She said, "Yes, but I said I was sorry." This surprised me (marking her territory on the linoleum, not her apology) and I asked her why she would do that. Sam looked up from cleaning her mess like a miniature Cinderella and said, "Well, I had to GO." ...Um...Yeah. Okay, that served me right for asking a three-year-old to explain herself.

Fast forward five minutes.

Back to the kitchen to refill my water. Seeing the monster of a dog, I give him a pat on the head as I pass. His head is damp. Wha...? *double take* "How did your head get...Oh, no." I smelled his furry melon and sure enough, that unmistakeable odor reached my nose. Lovely. Just lovely.

"SAM?!" *walks quickly to the living room where Sam sits watching t.v. with her sisters*

"Why is Brinkley's head wet?"

"He got it wet," said Sam.

"Yes, I know, but HOW did he get it wet, Samantha?"

Child makes up story quicker than you can blink..."He put his head in his water bowl."

I said, "No, his head is wet on TOP. How did that happen?"

Oldest sister Madison pipes up, "Sam, if you tell the truth you won't get in trouble." (Yes! Good thinking, Madison. That's how we'll get it out of her! I was just about to get the folding chair, rubber hose and a VERY bright light.)

Sam confesses. "Yes, I pee-peed on the doggy's head." (Mommy hides behind a pillow, giggling silently, thinking "Remember, you're her mother. Laugh later.")

"WHY did you pee on the dog's head?"

Sam, very matter-of-fact, shrugs her shoulders, explaining, "Because it was kinda FUNNY."

Note: Sam has apologized to the dog and promised not to pee on anyone ever again. Madison and I have recovered from our fits of laughter out of Sam's earshot and the floor and dog are once again, clean and pee-free. Thanks for your support.

Some Other Stuff I Wrote