Here's something I didn't think about: if I spend all day with my pets? My animal companions? My feline- and canine-Americans? MAYBE I MIGHT GET SICK OF THEM.
Oh my shattered arse. Okay, first of all, who is obsessed with the Christmas tree and all the decorations?
See the little pieces of white on the floor? Yeah. That's parts of the TREE because Henry keeps CLIMBING the dang thing so that he can BREAK all the ornaments.
Plus incidentally too? Last night I was just drifting off when I heard ting, ting, ta-ting and right there I knew the ornaments were being jostled. I STOMPED out of bed, and do you know who was climbing the tree like a howler monkey? Do you know?
WINSTON! Winston, my perfect cat, was climbing the tree.
This is the fourth Christmas I have spent with this cat and it's the FIRST Christmas he's climbed the tree. So I continue to blame Henry. That Henry is a demon seed. An orange demon seed.
My tree is all messed up, because at first I had the ornaments arranged so nicely, and now I wake up every morning to find 35 ornaments on the floor, and I just slap 'em back up there at this point. So now you have 72 magenta ones all crammed together and five feet of blank space. Whatever.
Henry clean ornament glitter off paw. Not know how it got there. Also Henry leave bit of dung on yer in-box.
And this DOG. For heaven's sake. Is it possible to give your dog TOO much attention? I stupidly told her we'd go to the dog park today, and I meant after I'd showered, put on makeup, watched a pressing episode of Roxanne, gotten a FedEx from a publisher (see what I did there? I mentioned FedEx again), ate a piece of banana bread, and so forth.
Yeah. No. As soon as this creature heard "dog park," she followed me relentlessly and bore her eyes into my soul.
Okay, fine. So we WENT to the dog park, and let me tell you what. It's a long, long, walk to the dog park part of this park, and alliteration is my friend why do you ask. So after that long walk, which involves climbing steps, we finally get there, and whoosh! That is all I see of my dog for the next 40 minutes. Whoosh!
That creature tears around the dog park faster than anything you have ever seen in your life. She ran to Rome, ate a pasta dinner, giggled at the David statue, and got back before I even noticed.
There were two, not one but TWO, puppies at the park, both around six months old. BOTH of those puppies tried to run with her for awhile, but after 20 minutes of whoosh! they were both like, eff it, and played calmly amongst themselves. Puppies did not have enough energy for this ludicrous dog. PUPPIES.
After we got home, she went to her water bowl–flap-floop-flap-floop-floop-flup–and slept awhile, but then she got up and this is what she does. While I am trying to proofread. Here it is. She hangs her head low at me, makes her eyebrows go all cockeldy, and says, "MmmmMMMmmm!" in this whiny, growly way. "MmmMMMmmm!"
You have no idea how many times a day I hear this. So I GOT UP from my proofreading, played with her and her FREAKING reindeer squeak toy, chased her all around the house with it, played tug-of-war, and now that I am sitting here trying to blog?
I mean, HOW MUCH ATTENTION does this dog NEED?
Who inVENted all these pets, anyway? Why do we have 62 of them? That Marvin. Always bringing home pet after pet. That's how it went, right?
So that's all I have to say about that. Oh, and one more thing?