Houdini, Part Freakin’ Two

Posted by She Said

Our dog saga continues, much to my chagrin. Charmin, although her squeezable softness is remarkable, should have been named Tigger due to the freak-of-nature height she reaches in her every jump. We (we being Greg) have lined our fence with an electric wire, which presumably would keep any dog cowering away from the fence in fear of getting shocked. That would be true for any dog that subscribes to the Pavlov theory, and if you haven’t already guess, that would NOT be our dog. She’ll be damned if she is going to let a little jolt stop her from riding along with me as I take the kids to school, attend a birthday party, or even tag along for those once-a-year “fun” check ups.

This, let me assure you, IS. A. BITCH.

Our test run with the fence resulted in me coming home to her terrorizing the construction workers in our expanding neighborhood. The best part? She kept jumping into the back yard of the cookie cutter home that looks just like ours only several doors away. Hey, I never said she was brilliant, just impervious to the powers of conditioning.

As my friend Kerry would say, Oy! I have a headache in my eye!

Gotta love her persistence!

Actually, no I don’t.

Freakin’ Houdini Reincarnated as My Dog

Posted by She Said

Before I am flogged for being a blogger slacker, here’s a summary of my last couple of months that may merit your forgiveness:

• Kids in school – there three times a day for drop offs and pick ups.
• Sell house.
• Pack up house.
• Soccer practices and games.
• Almost move into bane of our existence, aka the condo.
• Get email on the day we are moving into the bane that the sale of it is being “expedited”.
• Decide NOT to move into the bane.
• Frantically find house to rent in the right school zone (not an easy task).
• Find house.
• Track down property manager.
• Soccer practices and games.
• Attend three birthday parties and a BBQ in one weekend!
• Move. One. Van Load. At. A. Time.

OK, can you tell our life has been rather frantic lately? On the upside, we have now been successfully, and I use that term loosely, living in our new house for almost two weeks. As we navigate through school life, work, spelling tests, birthday parties, and boxes, we are trying to find our familial groove again. Apparently Charmin didn’t get the memo. Because instead of just being a nuisance by barking at every moving creature she can spot through the fence like she did at our old house, she has decided to jump it and just go see what it is for herself. Literally. She is jumping our almost 6’ fence.

In an attempt to stop it, we have tried to block the fence.

Didn’t work.

So, we decided to take her to Doggy Day Care, which worked great, but is not practical for every day. So, we bought a “no jump harness” to keep her from being able to extend her legs fully for her full Houdini-like action.

Yeah, that looks easy to put on a dog that won’t sit still, doesn’t it? Houdini could have used one of these contraptions in his act and wowed everyone. After Greg exercised every brain cell getting it on Charmin this morning, we all successfully went on our way. Greg to work. Me to carpool kids to school and to pick up a pizza to have after a late soccer practice tonight. After a successful drop off of kids and a quick run into the store, Emily and I drove home. TO FIND CHARMIN IN OUR DRIVEWAY. AGAIN. After the fume coming from my ears cleared, I could see the neck part of the contraption was still attached to her, but the rest of it was dragging between her legs. I guess Houdini has found a way to wow everyone after all. By coming back reincarnated as my dog. Lucky me.

Moments after getting Emily, Charmin, and the pizza successfully into the house, our not-quite-working doorbell eked out a pathetic chirp. Unsure of whether someone was actually at the door or not, I opened it to find our local friendly Animal Control. Welcome to the neighborhood! Dog ownership doesn’t get much better than this, folks. Let me tell you.

 

Dammit, Charmin. Quit looking so cute.

Charmin Likes A Little Fantasy Play

If only she could pay her own way using feather boas at a burlesque show.  Probably not gonna happen though.

Don’t bother asking what the boas are actually for.  We are all adults here and you already know. I can say I don’t think we will be using them after the dog has been sleeping on them.

BRRRRRRR

Susanne and I took the kids to the river today.  We are trying very hard to socialize Charmin so we can work on our training in various locations. 

We visited Rock Park which was recently completely landscaped anew.  It looks great.  For those of you not of this area, the Truckee River flows from Lake Tahoe and the water can be well…a bit chilly.

I had a bit of fun trying to get Charmin to go into the water.

“Get the stick, get the stick!”  After three or four sticks thrown in and Charmin simply looking at me like “Dude, you are crazy” I felt I had to be the big man and lead her into the river. Let me assure you I didn’t want to get in the water any more than she did, so I stepped out onto a rock in the river.

It started out ok.  She looked a little skittish.

Then the panic set in or her girly parts hit the cold water.

I think her claws left scratch marks in the rocks.

Goodnight Koko

A letter to my two youngest children, not yet old enough to understand.

Emily and Braedyn I am sorry I was not able to tell you the complete truth. I told you a story as close to the truth as best I could to spare you the pain that your mother and I are feeling. We did try to share with you as much as we could. We didn’t want you to just wonder where Koko went, or lie outright. So we did our best. When we told you that Koko was leaving, you yelled at me, you told me you didn’t like me anymore and that’s ok. At that moment, I didn't like myself very much for going down the path I chose but I had no choice.

I told you that she is in a place where she is happy and has other dogs to play with. I told you she is in a place with no children and no one to bite. I will continue to tell you that until you are old enough to read this, until you are old enough to understand. I hope you will forgive me and understand I did it because I didn’t want you to hurt or be hurt.

The truth is, she is gone. The truth is although Koko seemed to be the perfect dog, a gentle dog there was something in her that we just could not see. Something that we could not predict. Something we never saw even when you were putting your underwear on her head, or throwing a blanket over her.

The first clue was when she bit the vet and drew blood. This was nearly enough to put your mother and I over the edge. Koko almost went away then, but I convinced myself and your mother that it was the situation, the stress, the fear, the feeling cornered in a strange place. She bit the vet to protect herself. That’s what I told your mother. That’s what I told myself. But we both knew there was something beneath. Something we could feel.

The final straw that something was not right happened this last weekend. Koko bolted out of the house and attacked the neighbors dog. A small fluffy animal no larger than a child’s stuffed animal and she took it in her mouth and shook it like she meant to kill it. She shook it so viciously that I was shocked by it and was sure she would kill it. I was appalled that my gentle Koko would do such a thing. Then the owner of the dog stepped in to save his pet and she tried to bite him.

And I stepped in.

And she tried to bite me. She had never done that.

I want you both to know that the the fury in her bared snapping teeth and wide eyes staring at me, staring INTO mine scared me. I had never had a dog of my own ever scare me like that.

It was not any easy decision for us and it was not one made in haste or without discussing with the vet or the trainer.

In no way did I ever want to have a dog in my house that could hurt you and I didn’t want to give her away knowing she could hurt someone else. So we decided to have her put to sleep.

I have only had to do this once before when my dog Bear was so sick she was dying and it was to stop her pain that I chose to put her to sleep. Never have I consciously chosen to put an animal to sleep for any other reason. This breaks my heart to tell you that she is gone because of this. Because I called the vet. Because I drove her there. Because I gave her the tranquilizers.

I did this because I love you all so very much.

And I loved her very much. And I sat with her. I held her and I talked to her until she was gone. And I cried over our loss. And it breaks my heart. And I will always remember her as a loving member of this family as you should too.

From September 2008

Remember how she slept with her paws crossed.
Remember how she ate your Bubbles and drank from your baths no matter how dirty and soapy they were.
Remember how whenever we played on the floor she wanted to play too.
Remember how she would NEVER bring back the tennis ball when you threw it.

Remember the good things about her. I will because there were so many more great times with her than bad.

From 1-18-2009

So when you are old enough to read this and to understand, I hope you can forgive me and understand why I did not tell you the truth.

Understand that it hurt me to say goodnight to Koko one last time.

Dad.

Alpha

I was unloading the back of the Jeep when I heard it. My heart pounding audibly, I ran through the garage and threw the door open to the house, making the sound of the screams more intense. The taste of fear was bitter and overwhelming.

The screams. The snarls. The shrieks.

The fight.

The length of time to get to the back yard was excruciating. As I stumbled across Legos and Barbie parts, my mind was racing. Did the kids get caught in the middle of it this time? After all, wasn’t it only a matter of luck that they hadn’t been too close to one yet?

Another dog fight.

Two dogs that go at it and don’t hold back. Each one wanting to be dominant, they rival for top dog. Skidding into the back yard, I scanned frantically for the kids, looking past the blur of teeth and flying fur. Relieved, I see one child hovered in a corner, shaking and screaming, but safe. The other, having found refuge in my bedroom, was screaming from under the safety of my bed’s covers.

Enough. BAAAAAGH!

Count to Ten Slowly? Or Punch You in the Face?

It was a tough decision too, let me tell you.

I had finally fallen asleep once the kids were snuggled in their beds for their quiet time. After a restless night of sleep last night, I was grateful for the break. And then. BANG! BANG! BANG! Someone was knocking LOUDLY on my front door. I jumped up from the couch whispering “Shh! Shh! Shh!” to the dogs, in a pleading attempt to keep them from barking and waking the kids, if the banging didn’t do it already.

Through the peep hole I see two young women with some sort of lanyard around their necks. And, PFFFT! (That would be the sound of my feathers ruffling.) I have written before about my No Soliciting sign that I put on my door that has worked ever so effectively. Until today. I crack the door open and stick my knee out to prevent the dogs from escaping, and this act was so marvelously done I’m not sure they even knew there were dogs inside, which to them would have made me seem rather crazy. As any cranky, or what the hell, crazy, woman woken from some much needed sleep would say, eyes wide, “YES?”

“Hi,” the woman on the left said in a high-pitched, and irritatingly grating voice.

I simply point to the No Soliciting sign and say, “My kids are sleeping, and I’m not interested in anything you are selling.”

“We’re not selling anything.” The second one tries to hand me a flier.

Again, I squeeze my arm through the crack I’ve made in the door and point to the sign.

Pointing to my wooden welcome sign hanging from a hook on my door, Queen Annoying Voice says, “Well, you also have a Welcome sign on your door, so I was confused.” I swear the bitch even grinned at me in a smirky, what-are-you-going-to-do-about-this kind of way.

SERIOUSLY? “That’s for friends and family” I say, knowing that in 10 minutes I will have thought of the perfect witty thing to say to such an obtuse statement.

“Well, then it should say, ‘Welcome, Friends and Family’.” Finger nails on a chalkboard.

OH. MY. FLYING. SPAGHETTI. MONSTER. She didn’t! I rolled my eyes and shut the door. I have yet to check to make sure my No Soliciting sign and my Welcome sign are still there and not vandalized. I’m wishing now that I had taken one of their fliers and raised holy hell with whomever I could reach at whatever organization they were pushing.

So, I counted to ten, slowly. Then I kicked myself for not saying something more witty to the nitwits. The upside? Koko and Charmin listened to me and were quiet! THEY LISTENED TO ME! Do you understand what that means? It means there might be hope for our backyard yet!

It’s Quiet Time

Last week we had a rather unpleasant experience, the repercussions of which are still lingering for me. I made an appointment to take the dogs to get their vaccinations on Presidents Day. I was surprised they were open but was also thrilled because this meant GREG COULD TAKE THEM on his day off. Why is it such a big deal that Greg take them instead of me? Oh, well, let’s see. I just couldn’t bear taking all the fun for myself! I just had to share. I mean, come on! How much fun is this:

1. Get two kids into the car. (A major feat on most days alone.)
2. Wrangle two dogs into the same car. And, oh, did I mention neither of them really like the car?
3. Back out of the driveway, and just get the car into drive before smelling that gawd-awful smell of dog poop because Charmin FREAKS OUT in a moving car and loses her bowels EACH AND EVERY TIME. (Just ask Greg about trip home from the animal shelter.)
4. Listen to the kids complaining, whining, and crying about the poop smell.
5. Roll down the windows IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER to aid with the smell.
6. Listen to the kids complaining, whining, and crying about how cold they are.
7. Drive while keeping your fingers crossed that the dogs aren’t leaving poop footprints all over the back of the car.
8. Arrive at the vet’s office.
9. Carefully and slowly open one side door of the van so that no dogs can escape.
10. One dog does try to escape and succeeds in putting a not-so-great-smelling paw print on your freshly laundered jeans, the ones you usually get three or four wears out of.
11. Get both dogs out of the car with a firm grip on their leashes with the one hand that isn’t trying to unbuckle the kids.
12. Do a little dance because both dogs and both kids are out of the car.
13. Open the door to the vet’s office and have Koko turn into Captain Contortionist and somehow gets her big head through her collar as she backs up like Speedy Gonzales on hot pavement. And escapes.
14. Get kids and the one non-contortionist (but trying to be) dog into the vet and ask tell the staff to watch them. Please.
15. Whistle and say “Koko! Come here sweetie!” so sweetly through gritted teeth to try and coax her back to you.

So, being the thoughtful and giving person I am, I thought I’d share in the fun with Greg. Oh, but I’d lend a helping hand and keep the kids at home. At least there would be four less feet to worry about leaving poop prints in the car.

Greg, being the gracious dog-lover he is, agreed to take the dogs for their check-up. To sum up the beginning of the trip: poop in car, escaped dog in parking lot, poop and pee in vet’s office. See? How fun is this?

Oh, then the thing that has been gnawing at me for the last week and a half happened. Koko bit the vet. Koko, the docile one. Koko, the one who we knew we wanted to adopt right away when we saw her just look back and do nothing at the kid who ran over her tail with his tricycle. Koko, my favorite. Koko. The vet wasn’t even touching her at the time, but as he started to reach to her stomach, she gave no warning and just turned and bit. Our poor vet was upset. Yes, he had been bitten, thankfully not bad enough for stitches, but it was the third time in a week. He was a little grouchy about it. Occupational hazard, I suppose.

When Greg got home and told me what had happened, I was completely devastated. And I cried. A lot. For in my mind, she had to go. HAD. TO. GO. After all, I did not want a dog who could do that, maybe next time to one of our kids, in our house.

Greg and I have always been of the belief that we would never keep a dog that bit. BUT. But what if she was so terrified of the entire experience that her natural survival instincts kicked in? It seems plausible and most likely possible that the wrangling into the car, the chase through the parking lot, the dragging into the vet’s office, the being hefted up onto the examination table, and the crazy plethora of scents in the room made her panic. And bite.

Koko is still here, and I’ve started to pet her again. I seriously started to detach myself from her for several days after this happened. Keeping her but not leaving her alone with the kids is completely impractical. I mean, seriously. I have the bladder the size of a thimble and am always running to the bathroom. I’d have more accidents on our floors than the kids AND the dogs combined if I had to run to the door and let them outside first each time. Am I watching Koko’s actions around the kids more? Absolutely. Have we taught the kids not to hug her? YES! Am I still agonizing over this? *Sigh*

I will undoubtedly continue to worry. It IS me we’re talking about after all. But during this agonizing process, I am enjoying moments like these:

I mean, just look at those two. A quiet time. Indeed.

My Own Personal Screensaver

Yes, its not a small little Pug and that’s what makes my movie so much cooler. Look at the big tongue on Charmin.

What Is With The Inaugural Fuss?

From 1-20-2009

Charmin has no interest in the inaugural address. The rest of us enjoyed a few mimosas, french toast and sausage. A nice day off for me and I truly enjoyed watching the inaugural coverage.

Family Awesomeness

Jake came over to play the guitar today to let us hear his progress.  He is teaching himself to play.  So here I am listening to my oldest son playing the guitar and getting the most awesome family cuddle time at the same time.  How could it be better?  The wife was getting me a beer.

Charmin Is Being Charming

Yes, here it is.  A brief moment in time when I wasn’t growling at her, pushing her off my kids or trying to keep her from licking the table.  A moment when I thought that both my dogs were being cute, laying in the sun enjoying the warmth.

Will Lick You For Food

Charmin has an interesting obsession with her food. Once positioned over her bowl she will growl if Koko approaches the outer bounds of our galaxy. It’s rather annoying for us and it reached a new level last night. Charmin was guarding her dinner and Koko was in the kitchen grunting and talking to us. Took me a few minutes to realize it was because she didn’t want to leave the kitchen for fear of disturbing the queen. It’s funny, she expends so much energy trying to prove her dominance that she is exhausted and has to eat lying down.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Greg has been digging through all of his old Australian Operation Raleigh slides and negatives, scanning them, and recreating this important part of his history. Or reliving his youth. Whichever. Anyway, in one of his boxes of negatives, there were two crystals. With some sort of honing device, our children were drawn to them. Sort of like the orphan Jen seeking the shard of the Dark Crystal. Or Gollum being mesmerized by the Ring. They thought they’d hit the mother load when these precious little gems were discovered.

This morning they were granted permission by the king of the stones, their Daddy, to play with them. Here they are in absolute awe of their innate powers:

 

Against my better judgement I let them bring their “diamonds” into the car with us on our way to a play date. Now Emily can’t find hers. I’ve hunted with a flash light in all the food and crumb infested crevices of the van. I’ve sent in Koko and Charmin in the hopes they had some inkling of hunter ability in them and could sniff it out. Yeah, no luck with them either. They didn’t even clean up the abundance of crumbs strewn throughout the van. Some dogs they are.

Emily is devastated. I can only hope that it will be found at some point in the near future. Who knows, maybe this is the inspiration for some children’s book that will incorporate the pure determination of Jen and the utter insanity of Gollum. Sounds like the makings of a winner, yes?

Nothing Like A Pup Picture To Cheer You Up

From the Archives.  I was scanning my old Australia photos and found this puppy pic from the late 80’s.  Even if the exposure is so poor than you cannot see her eyes, it sill warms my heart.  Sierra was a wonderful pooch who has been gone for many years. I miss you girl.

Koko vs. The Animal

I’ve decided the reason I have play dates at my house is so that I’ll kick up my housecleaning a few notches. Before kids, getting a clean house used to be the frosting on the cake to having a dinner party with friends at our house. Since that doesn’t happen as much anymore, I use our play dates as a marker to when I get certain chores done around the house. And I’ll be honest. I talk out of both sides of my mouth when it comes to this issue. I tell OTHERS not worry about how their house looks when we come over, but panic about getting all the doggy hair balls out of the line of sight before having others over. And I honestly mean it when I tell others not to worry! I think collectively we moms put too much pressure on ourselves to appear that we always have it together. Where I don’t care if someone has vacuumed or dusted or picked up toys before we come over, it PAINS me to have people come over if my house isn’t somewhat June Cleaverish. For our play date today, not only did I clean up all the soap overflow spills from the kids’ bathroom counter, I even had freshly made, hot-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies FROM SCRATCH. Pathetic, I know. Unrealistic, I know. Hey, I used to have deadlines when I worked in the corporate world. I suppose this is my stay-at-home-mom version of “Oh shit, this game needs to be to QA this afternoon!”

As I got ready to vacuum prior to our play date today, Koko and Charmin acted in their typical fashion. Charmin, upon seeing our Dyson Animal vacuum cleaner, fled, leaving a trail of pee, to hide somewhere in my bedroom. Koko, upon seeing The Animal, thought, “Yeah, bitch, bring it on! I float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!” The girl won’t chase a ball, but she totally digs a good tussle with my vacuum cleaner. No joke. Problem is, she freaks out when I pull out the camera. Yeah, go figure. She’s shy, but loves a good fight. I thought, I’ve GOT to at least TRY and get a picture of this. So, as I attempted to photograph her biting, yes BITING, the vacuum cleaner today, I kept missing the perfect shot. Hey, you try to vacuum with one hand, take a picture with the other, AND try and entice your dog to play with your vacuum cleaner. She normally doesn’t need any enticing, but the presence of the camera somehow makes her think it is no longer a fair fight. I gave it a very concerted effort and had one of the cleanest spots on my carpet EVER as I vacuumed it over and over again trying to get the damn shot.

Here is what I was able to capture today:

Braedyn and Emily thought it was hilarious to watch the whole three-ring circus act going on in front of them with Koko in one ring, me in another, and The Animal in the center ring. They wanted in on the action too, so here are their fingers being vacuumed into the The Animal’s hose. And those marking on the end of the hose? Koko’s teeth marks.

Breaking And Entering

Tonight Susanne had a hot date with one of her lesbian friends. Who am I to say no when she asks if I mind. Seriously. I should probably stop writing right now. Maybe I should just post once a week about my wife visiting this hot friend, hanging out with this hot group of moms. Maybe I could generate more traffic with a little creative writing about my wife and hot lesbians. Hmm. Something to think about.

So it's going to be just me and the kids and they are begging and pleading to go with her. Tonight as far as the kids are concerned I am chopped liver dipped in creamed earthworm with a side of blue cheese. Seriously. You would think Susanne told them that as soon as she left that I was going to make them watch 60 Minutes. They REALLY wanted to go with mommy tonight. But I had little something up my sleeve.

Braedyn & Emily (almost in tears): I want to go with mommeeeeee!!!

Me: Hey, you guys want to play video games?

Braedyn & Emily: YAAAYYYYYY. Bye mommy.

Score: Dad 1, Mommy 0

I wrangled em up and headed to the game room. I left Koko and Charmin outside because it's hard enough to manage two toddlers and wired console controllers without the joy of dogs dragging the Xbox and Playstation out of the entertainment center.

The kids played for a bit until Dad got tired of “helping”. “My car is stuck", “this is hard”, “can you help me”. Looky there, the time is up. Did you hear the timer? I did. Time to turn it off. Let's go play outside.

Ahhh, peace and quiet. The children are turning the swimming pool into the largest mudbog west of Lake Lahonton and I get to work on the blog. But wait, where is Koko? “Koko, come girl”. I can hear her whining and barking around the corner. Must be something keeping her entertained.

After a few minutes I am surprised she has not come to see me or the kids (she loves to get wet with the kids). I am still being a lazy motha because work has been really tough lately. Nuff said. Who wants to get fired about writing about work (don’t want to get Dooced!)

So I start yelling for Koko, because my lazy ass is NOT getting out of the rocker unless one of the kids falls into the pool face down…and doesn’t get up right away of their own accord. I look over at the fence and whose head do I see poking out from under the fence? Koko’s. From outside the yard! Somehow she managed to escape, and now she is trying to get back in. Apparently I am not as much a motivator as whatever cute poodle she was chasing on her way out because I had to open the gate to let her in.

Guess I am putting wire up this week.

What’s that Smell?

Koko: Smell my breath, aaaahhhh…

Charmin: No, smell MY breath, aaaaahhh…

There Was a Young Lady that Growled at a Fly, I Don’t Know Why She Growled at the Fly

Well, actually I do know why. And I’ll tell you.

We have two dogs. Koko and Charmin. Koko came first to us about a year ago. She was less than a year old, and the people who had her on Craigslist said their landlord wouldn’t allow them to keep her any longer. We adopted her on the spot because she was great with kids. It didn’t take us long to figure out that the landlord spiel was just a ruse. A cover-up for the real reasons she was being banished from this family. A few of those meticulously crafted lies we were told? Oh, let’s see…

• “She’s house broken.” The truth: Um, I have a spot on my carpet there, and there, and there, and there, and there, and there, and there, and there, and there that says otherwise.
• “She’s a cuddle bug.” The truth: She loves to cuddle with you…in your bed. Regardless of whether you want her there or not. It doesn’t matter.
• “Our children take her for a walk all the time.” The truth: She turns into Captain Spazmo when you try to put her collar on. Their young children, their itsy bitsy, tiny, young, WEAK children take her for a walk? No way. No how.
• “She loves being outside.” The truth: She loves geography. So much so, she will try to get to China. From your backyard. Straight down.
• “She loves people.” The truth: She freaks out when she’s alone. So much so you’d think she was getting ready to be pawcuffed, blindfolded, and strapped down in a dark closet with Skinny Puppy blaring at too high of a decibel level. Yeah, that kind of freak out.

After several months, I couldn’t take it anymore. When it was time to go somewhere, not only would I have to wrangle two kids and all their crap into the car, I would have to literally pick up this 50 pound fur ball and carry her outside. She could tell we were getting ready to leave, and she wanted to let me know she didn’t like it. Not one bit. Take her with me, you say? Yeah, we tried that. Once. I was in the middle of my suave acrobatic act, the one carefully crafted to keep the dog in and get the kids out, when she bolted. Freaked and bolted. I chased her. Dragging my kids. Screaming “KOKO” until I was hoarse. A sailor’s cursing would be considered benign when compared to what was going on in my head at that moment.

So, a few more weeks of dog hell, and I told Greg she had to go. A few months after that (yeah, you can see he listened to me), something in me decided to give her one more chance. One more very expensive chance. We called Bark Busters. It was Koko’s date with destiny. If it didn’t work, she was outta here. It cost a whole crap load of money. And what did we learn? We learned how to growl at our dog. And you know what? The shit worked. She is the best behaved dog, and I absolutely love her. She’s my favorite. (What? Our dogs can’t read. I can express favoritism!) Now if Charmin would follow suit, we’d be one happy family. Brady Bunch even.

So, Greg and I growl at our dogs to let them know who’s boss. Our growls sound something like a deep, guttural, “BAAAAAAAAAAGH!” The kids aren’t considered high in the dog pack, so they technically aren’t supposed to growl at the dogs. But children learn by example, right? And we growl in our house. A LOT. It actually comes very naturally and easy to us now. Probably TOO easily.

At any given moment in our house, you may hear something like this:

Braedyn: “Charmin! Get off of my legos! BAAAAAAAGH!”

Emily: “Koko licked me!” (Tears) “BAAAAAAAAGH!”

Me to Charmin as her nose is precariously close to that dinner plate on the table: “BAAAAAAAAGH!”

Emily after being told she can’t have more juice: “Mommy!” (Tears) “I want more juice!” (Emphatically) “BAAAAAAGH!”

Emily: “Charmin’s on Didi!” (Her blankie!) (Tears) “BAAAGH!”

Emily to Braedyn: “Give it back!” (Tears) “BAAAAGH!”

Me to snoring husband: “Roll over! BAAAGH!”

So, there you go. We growl a lot. At the dogs. At each other. It’s engrained into us as a way to express frustration. To dole out discipline. Whatever. If it doesn’t work, it at least makes us feel better.

And then today:

Me to a fly: “BAAAAGH!”

Yup. It popped out of my mouth before I even thought about how absurd it was.

There was a young lady that growled at a fly. Now you know why she growled at a fly.

The Solution for Anyone Needing a Heavy Breather

Meet Charmin. Charmin is a mut we adopted back in May-ish. From what we gather she is a mix of Shepherd and Chow. Oh, you think she looks adorable, don’t you? Yes, squeezable soft. Yes, look at that face. What this cute little face doesn’t say is, “Hi, I’m going to prevent you from going to sleep at night with my heavy breathing. I turn it on just at night. Just for you. Oh, I know I don’t do it all day long. I save them up for night time. Just for you.”

That precious little face that screams “Adopt Me! Adopt Me!” also doesn’t let you in on her other dirty little secrets. The ones like, “I like to sleep up against the walls at night with my legs in the air. Isn’t that so cute? It’s so cute that I’m sure you won’t mind the fact that my nails scratch against the wall and keep waking you up. Sure, you’re worried about that daughter of yours waking up to my love scratches on the other side of the wall, but isn’t my face so bloody damn cute?” Or "Cushions are for babies. You didn't need those outdoor cushions anyway." Or my favorite, “You LOVE kisses. I can tell. You like them on your legs when you pass by me. I just know it. Come here, my precious.”