Just wanted to give a shout-out to the wonderfull talented Kramey Martin for my GORGEOUS new blog header! If you are thinking about a facelift or redesign, drop her a line. So talented!
If you are in Reader, click on out and take a gander at her work. Thanks!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Jack Had a Ruff Weekend
No - I'm not above stupid puns. Obviously.
Jack woke me up at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday to be let out. I dutifully opened the door and then debated watching over him (as I usually do ever since he Houdini-ed out of yard), or sneaking back to bed for 20 minutes while he sniffed and pondered and licked his own penis. I decided to sneak back to bed and my snugly husband.
At 6:25 a.m. I got out of bed again, opened the door to our patio and whistled. You see, Jack always comes running when I whistle.
(Also, I can whistle pretty well - my husband, not so much. When Allen attempts to retrieve Jack from the yard with a whistle, I will literally come from wherever I am in the house in order to stop the loud slow leaking air noise
that my husband calls a whistle).
Anyway, I whistled - he didn't come. I called his name - he didn't come. I yelled "come" - he didn't come. I started to panic since I was slowly realizing I couldn't see him anywhere either (I mean, our yard is big, but it's not like Yellowstone-Park-we-lost-our-dog big). I threw on my Wellies (which I keep by the back door just for this purpose) (and which by the way, do not go very well with purple pajama bottoms) and ran out to the yard. I heard some flailing noises to my right and lo and behold, there was Jack....
Trapped underneath the anti-squirrel netting that we were forced to put over our tomato plants SINCE WE HAVE YET TO EAT ONE FREAKING TOMATO FROM OUR OWN GARDEN THANK YOU VERY MUCH F-ING SQUIRRELS. Ahem.
Anyway, he was stuck. And he looked pathetic and scared. And although I love him oh-so much, I broke down and starting laughing maniacally. It took a good ten minutes to get him out of that damn netting - it's hard to untangle a flailing puppy. But even as I sit here, three days later, I still have tears in my eyes from laughing at the vision in my head.
(Although I was TERRIBLY tempted to run back in the house and grab my camera - I decided that such actions were not kind and terribly inhumane of me. In retrospect, I should have. You'd be peeing in your pants right now instead of reading this pathetic commentary).
So I tried to cheer him up and I promised him great fun at the local dog park. Dogs! Butt-sniffing! Peeing! Lukewarm water with other dogs' saliva! What's not to love?
We loaded up the truck and headed over there - I could tell he was getting excited and the cheer-up factor was working. Until we arrived....
There were NO other dogs at the park. Dog park fail. Dog momma fail. I felt horrible. I immediately texted my husband who was at a store procuring some garden-related accouterments and he responded (rather quickly for him) "Bring him home." I could hear the protectiveness in his "voice" and I was touched. So we headed home and those two played in the yard for a few hours to make up for the dog park fiasco. I even let Jack sniff my butt while I was cooking dinner so that he felt better.
Then Monday came - and after I let Jack back in the house after his morning pee, I noticed that his eye was swollen. Turn out he got bit/stung by something in our yard and doggone it - he's decided that he's had enough! (Benadryl seemed to work and he's on the mend).
I mean, how much can one dog take I ask you?
Jack woke me up at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday to be let out. I dutifully opened the door and then debated watching over him (as I usually do ever since he Houdini-ed out of yard), or sneaking back to bed for 20 minutes while he sniffed and pondered and licked his own penis. I decided to sneak back to bed and my snugly husband.
At 6:25 a.m. I got out of bed again, opened the door to our patio and whistled. You see, Jack always comes running when I whistle.
(Also, I can whistle pretty well - my husband, not so much. When Allen attempts to retrieve Jack from the yard with a whistle, I will literally come from wherever I am in the house in order to stop the loud slow leaking air noise
that my husband calls a whistle).
Anyway, I whistled - he didn't come. I called his name - he didn't come. I yelled "come" - he didn't come. I started to panic since I was slowly realizing I couldn't see him anywhere either (I mean, our yard is big, but it's not like Yellowstone-Park-we-lost-our-dog big). I threw on my Wellies (which I keep by the back door just for this purpose) (and which by the way, do not go very well with purple pajama bottoms) and ran out to the yard. I heard some flailing noises to my right and lo and behold, there was Jack....
Trapped underneath the anti-squirrel netting that we were forced to put over our tomato plants SINCE WE HAVE YET TO EAT ONE FREAKING TOMATO FROM OUR OWN GARDEN THANK YOU VERY MUCH F-ING SQUIRRELS. Ahem.
Anyway, he was stuck. And he looked pathetic and scared. And although I love him oh-so much, I broke down and starting laughing maniacally. It took a good ten minutes to get him out of that damn netting - it's hard to untangle a flailing puppy. But even as I sit here, three days later, I still have tears in my eyes from laughing at the vision in my head.
(Although I was TERRIBLY tempted to run back in the house and grab my camera - I decided that such actions were not kind and terribly inhumane of me. In retrospect, I should have. You'd be peeing in your pants right now instead of reading this pathetic commentary).
So I tried to cheer him up and I promised him great fun at the local dog park. Dogs! Butt-sniffing! Peeing! Lukewarm water with other dogs' saliva! What's not to love?
We loaded up the truck and headed over there - I could tell he was getting excited and the cheer-up factor was working. Until we arrived....
There were NO other dogs at the park. Dog park fail. Dog momma fail. I felt horrible. I immediately texted my husband who was at a store procuring some garden-related accouterments and he responded (rather quickly for him) "Bring him home." I could hear the protectiveness in his "voice" and I was touched. So we headed home and those two played in the yard for a few hours to make up for the dog park fiasco. I even let Jack sniff my butt while I was cooking dinner so that he felt better.
Then Monday came - and after I let Jack back in the house after his morning pee, I noticed that his eye was swollen. Turn out he got bit/stung by something in our yard and doggone it - he's decided that he's had enough! (Benadryl seemed to work and he's on the mend).
I mean, how much can one dog take I ask you?
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