Stupid cute dog


Stupid, cute Bella dog.




"Time to buy you more underwear?"


Underwear, part 2

All of Kris's clothes, except the ones he has on, are now washed, dried, folded, and put away.

All of my clothes are now washed, dried, folded and put away. And I do mean all.

I am standing here naked, amazed how many clothes I have, given I wear only a few at a time, and have gotten rid of so many that I no longer wear.

How can someone who cares so little for clothes have so many? Boggles the mind.

What I don't have enough of, however, is underwear.

Bella has decided the the bestest treat in all the world is my underwear. As in, my dirty underwear.

As in, "Ew!"

At one point, reminiscent of my brother's underwear tale of woe I was down to 4 pairs of underwear, because Bella had chewed through all my other pairs. Four panties. That's one, two, three, four. Four.

I made Kris buy me new ones. Like forty pairs of new ones. Four. Tee.

I could go weeks without doing laundry. Didn't have to. Not only did I have clean underwear, but I had clean underwear to spare.

But not now.

Now I can't friggen find half of them because that dog, that dog, has somehow figured out how to retrieve underwear from the really tall hamper and she still continues to chomp on them.

So, now I'm standing here naked, counting my remaining underwear, and realizing it's time to go shopping again.

I'm down to eight.


How to get someone else to clean your kitchen

Oh, we had such high hopes for today.

My entire company (yes, that would be Mike, Chris and I), along with Kris, my mom and a couple friends were journeying out to see SW3: Revenge of the Sith this morning. We went to see the 9:10 showing, which is perfect: too early for the casual movie-goer, too late for the corporate theatre buyout and way too late for the passionate Star Wars viewer, who already saw the movie the at midnight the night before.

After the show, on the way to Apple to drop Mike off so that he could pick up the family car (his Jeep having dropped dead yesterday), I noticed I was having difficulty reading street signs.

Sigh. Migraine number two of the year began this morning. Which has me completely puzzled, as I've been sleeping really well, eating right, exercising regularly, and I'm not (currently) menstruating. As far as I can tell, I haven't eaten any aspartame, sulfites or other triggers. I did have four sips of Doyle's Coke at the show.

But still.

When we arrived home, I wandered towards the bedroom, to hear a commotion in the kitchen. Wandering back, I had just enough vision to see the kitchen floor covered in blood, little doggie footprints all over the place.

Turns out, Annie really, really wanted the dishes of last night's communal dinner, and pulled a bag of dishes from the countertop onto the floor, breaking one as it did. She then cut herself on one of them, and bled all over the floor.

Stupid dog.

Leaving the mess to Kris, I went to sleep, in hopes of avoiding the worst of the pain and blindless.

I woke up to Mom expressing concern to Doyle about Bella, who seemed to be stressed. I called out to Kris, who rushed into the kitchen to comfort Bella in yet another seizure. I followed him into the kitchen, to discover, sure, Bella in a seizure, but also the kitchen in the most beautiful state of cleanliness!

Mom spent the whole 5 hours of my sleeping agony cleaning my kitchen. And it was gorgeous! She threw out all the stuff I didn't need, organized what I did need, put away everything that needed putting away, and cleaned everything else. It was amazing.

Later in the evening, after Cold Stone, Mom commented, "There are easier ways to get your kitchen cleaned."

Sometimes you have to share

Sometimes you take a picture that is so bad you just can't delete it.

I've taken many of me, that's for sure. I average one good picture out of seven of me, with 2 really bad ones in that 7. The others are just eh.

But this one. This one! Oh, this one is one of the funniest I've seen in a long time. It's just too bad to delete!

So, I had to share.

Normally, Bella takes good photos.

No, really.

You know, Dog ...


... that strawberry might last longer if you chewed it.

Little doggie, how do I torment you so?

Little doggie, how do I torment you so?

Let me count the ways!

I take you for walks. I scratch your back when you nudge me. I feed you doggie crack. I feed you more food than Kris says I should feed you. I take you on mini-walks through out the day. I play tug of war with you.

Oh, these are all such torment!

I let you sleep in the bed with us (which is, by the way, an incredible sacrifice you don't know the half of!). I tolerate your barking. I let you sniff each and every smell on your walk. I let you into to the bedroom during the day so that you can sleep in the sun. I run after squirrels with you. I take you to the vets on a regular basis. I take you to the park to run around.

How can I be such a cruel, cruel owner?

I sneak you extra shizzle sticks to chew on (okay, so I bribe you with food to shut up, it's the same thing, right?). I stop Annie from dominating you, thereby keeping her as the Omega dog. I scratch your belly when you present it. I take you on hikes through trails and forests. I even buy the books with the trails listed in them, just so that I can find dog-friendly trails. I take you to Waterdog Lake so that you can go romping through the reeds (and where I get ticks).

I even let you sit in my office chair.

When I'm in it.

Oh, the torment!

It's only fair that sometimes, just every once in a long while, I get a chance to really torment you.

Say, with two Elizabethan collars!

Eight more years...

Only eight more years to go. Eight more years. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Eight.

I am so tired of:

  • the barking
  • the whining
  • getting pushed out of bed by a dog
  • being unable to have sex in my own bed because there's a dog between the two of us
  • the licking sounds (there's nothing in your crotch, dog!)
  • the open wound on the leg
  • the whining
  • the hovering whenever I'm in the kitchen
  • the staring while I'm sitting in the bathroom
  • butt wipes on my brand spanking new rug
  • being unable to head out of town on a whim because we have to find someone to take care of them
  • imposing on friends to take care of them
  • the whining
  • the upturned trashcans
  • the $400 a month dog food bills
  • the emergency room runs
  • the $300 a month veterinary bills
  • finding dog hairs in my underwear
  • finding dogs eating my underwear

I know Kris loves these dogs, but they are driving me insane. He's not home with these monsters 22 hours a day. Dog, shut the fuck up!

Stupid Dog.


Bella peed in the bed last night. I'm at a loss for words right now.

The many names of Bella


I'm sure anyone with a pet will create nicknames for the pet. Given the number of cutesy-wootsey names people give each other, giving pets (you know, the even cuter animals?) nicknames is only reasonable.

Here are some of Bella's.

  1. The Bella
  2. Bella-Girl
  3. The Little One
  4. The Lump
  5. The Furnace
  6. Broken Bella Beagle
  7. Stinky
  8. Bella of the Long, Soft Ears (Karen gave her that name)
  9. Clicky Girl
  10. Big Kitty Cat
  11. Wiggle Bottom, Wig for short
  12. Bella Butt
  13. The Cute One, Cuteness