If a cat gets shut inside a dresser for most of a day, she will not only break the bottoms out of two drawers and scratch the bejeesus out of all the drawer edges trying to get out, but also trash the clothes. And of course Murphy’s Law dictates that the three drawers affected will be the ones that contain the decent clothes you wear to work, not, say, your painting and/or gardening clothes.
Seriously, I could just lie down and cry right now. But I won’t, because I have to go do laundry, since I’m down to only one pair of work-appropriate pants.
before: a wheelbarrow full of chunks of grass and weeds that I dug out from the former (and future) garden beside the house.
after: a wheelbarrow lying on its side, with grass and weeds cascading everywhere.
the explanation from Sport: “Luke convinced me to do it.”
(Yes, Luke is the dog.)
After I stopped laughing we established that Sport was a little hazy on the meaning of the word “convinced”.
No, really, why? “Because they lower your stress,” suggested Martha. HA! Right. Shall I recap the weekend for you?
Friday: had to call the emergency veterinary clinic (it was a holiday, after all) and ask what, if any, ill effects could be expected from a 70 pound Labrador who ate 8 hard boiled eggs. Dyed. In the shell. “Well… colourful poop, for one thing.” was the response. Were they dyed with non-toxic dye? Damned if I know, Sport made them at daycare. We decided on a wait-and-see policy, since a daycare probably wouldn’t be using anything too lethal. So far, so good.
Saturday: Went downstairs to get something from the backup pantry. There is a box full of that paper straw stuff sitting in front of it – leftover from a giant box of goodies I got at Christmas time. I noticed that a bunch of the paper had spilled out of the box, and shoved it aside with my foot so I could stand in front of the pantry. And thought… what the HELL is soaking into my sock? Yeah. Turns out at least one of the cats (I’m lookin’ at you, Oscar) has been using the box of paper as a litter box. Including the portion that was spilled on the ground.Did I mention I have unfinished concrete floors in that part of the basement? Which are next to impossible to remove stains and/or smell from? Yeah. DANDY.
Sunday: Spent some time out in the back yard cleaning up winter debris and scooping poop. I noticed that the narrow space between the side of the house & the fence is sheer mud, and thought, gee, I should put a little fence up or the dog will be coming in with really muddy feet. But of course, when I moved, I tossed my scraps of leftover green plastic mesh and a few other barrier-like materials. So I couldn’t deal with it right away, but I didn’t think it would be a huge deal, since I already have to wipe dog feet when he comes inside at this time of year anyway. WRONG. Less than an hour later, I stood by in shock when the dog trotted up to the mud, flung himself down in it, and belly crawled about four feet, wriggling from side to side in glee. OHMYGODWHATAREYOUDOINGGETUPYOUMORON. I got his usual “Huh?” look… as he stood there, no longer a yellow Labrador but more of a black & tan. My back-lane neighbour happened to be standing there chatting with me, and his comment was, “Looks like someone just became an OUTDOOR dog.” Don’t I wish.
Monday: well, nothing, so far. But it’s only noon, and I have to clean the guinea pig cage, so… potential abounds.
So here’s the thing: I need more hours in the day. Who do I talk to about that? I’ve tried sleeping less, and that doesn’t work out well for anyone, least of all me. I have this massive ongoing list of things to do, and everytime I cross one thing off, three or four more get added to the bottom. Like today, when I crossed off “register Sport for day camp the first two weeks in July”, but added “call all 3 daycare waiting lists to change the date he needs a spot for”, “find out when last day of school is FOR SURE” (don’t ask), and “find babysitter for July 2&3″. Then I crossed off “email the lovely person who has offered to take a gift to the girl I sponsor at Children’s Heaven” (yes, it was a little more succinct than that on the actual list), but added “shop for school supplies”, “write letter”, and “mail package”.
You see? It’s like the myth of … Hydra, is it? Where you cut one head off and more grow in its place? Like that. I have a Hydra list. (Where’s Heracles when you need him?) And I have this theory that if there were just two more hours in the day, preferably hours after 8:30 pm when Sport is asleep, then I could finally conquer the list.
In the time it took to write this post, I remembered some more things that need to be added to the list. Make dentist appointment for Sport, call and RSVP for a birthday party, and make vet appointment for the dog’s heartworm test & pills. And as I was typing that last sentence, the cat came and crapped on the floor right in front of me. So now I have added “make vet appt for the goddamn cat”. (Based on past experience, this behaviour means he is getting a kidney infection, and needs to go on antibiotics. I would prefer he chose another method of communication other than a crap-based one, but there you go.)
So now it’s 9:37, and aside from making supper, doing laundry, talking to my mother, filing, and making school lunch for tomorrow, I have accomplished very little. And if I’m going to be at all functional at my 6 am wake up call, I have to go to bed in the next 45 minutes or so. You see what I’m saying? Just two more hours a day… is that so much to ask?
I am sick. Again. Sport was sick too, but although he is a frickin human petri dish, he also has a killer immune system. Any bug that lays me low for a week is out of his system in about 2 days, max.
More entertaining posts to follow once my head feels less like a bowling ball. A bowling ball with mucus. There, aren’t you glad you read this?
I leave you with a scene that has not yet happened in our house, although it certainly could.
I guess Luke is not a Diego fan.
Donde esta mi cabeza?
I’m totally hiding the evidence, in case you are wondering. Sport doesn’t play with Diego much any more so he may never notice it’s gone.
Filed under: livestock
Why does this dog look so pathetic, you ask?
Because this is what he is gazing at.
“Woe is me… lying on the hard floor while that CAT hogs my bed.”
Filed under: livestock
There was leftover pizza on the counter. The cat got up there, ate all the ham off it, and then pushed it onto the floor for the dog to finish off.
They have discovered teamwork. I’m doomed.
Ladies and gentleman, we have achieved full dog-cat integration. (And if the damn guinea pigs would have cooperated a little more, I could have gotten them in the same shot.)
Now I have to go lie down, since I have been upright for about 20 minutes and that is all I can manage at the moment apparently. The flu, if that is what this is, sucks rocks.
as I unpack box after box, I wonder…
Why did I label a box of pots and pans “Living Room”?
Why did I bother to move shirts that I haven’t worn for two years?
Where on earth is my cell phone charger?
Why do I own so many bras?
What would possess a dog to pass up a leather purse and chew up an eraser instead?
What happened to my rubber boots?
And last, but not least… how long will it take for the cat to come out of the basement?
