Dawgs can be so cool...
God knows I love my cats but, I swear... the dogs are literally helping me clean.
Twice in about 24 hours, a rather large butter dish fulla cat food got dumped into the hallway. There's this "window" between the living room and the upstairs, as it were, and I feed one of the cats on the sill. It's almost a foot wide.Anyway, two times I've filled her dry food tub and twice it's gotten knocked offa the sill. Cat food every-damned-where. *siiigh* The idea of pluggin' up the vacuum sucking it up that way or picking it up by hand makes me tired before I start, so I figured out a different solution. I let the dogs in. Now, not only will the cat food get gone, I probably won't have to clean the catboxes either... these nastly lil' will-eat-anything boogers.... I got all my kisses when they first came in.
We're on a handshake only basis from this point on, though. Dear Lord... I just almost needed 911. Three of 'em just pinned me in this chair, tilted it back and molested me.
*pttthhhbbbb*
dog hair.... Well, that was fun.
Almost NOT... Conservative guess: Between the four dogs, there's about 200 pounds of puupy goin' on. On ME.
And, every danged one of them is CONVINCED beyond all reason that they're lap dogs.
A dog you cannot see around is NOT a lap dog, I don't care WHAT they say.
A dog that makes it harder to breathe than a two-sizes too small pair of jeans is NOT a lap dog, no matter how got-damned cute they are.
A dog who weighs more than you (okay... almost as much. Piss off.) is NOT a lap dog, either.
But...
YOU try telling them that.
Breathlessly.
As they breathe that foul doggy breath all over yer face.
G'head.
See how far you get. I just play dead and after a while, they all find something else to get into. Ziggy says "Hi y'all!" and ya better listen, too, cause he weighs over 100 lbs himself.
I swear to God, you could eat dinner offa his back. There's room for a plate and a drink, at least. jeezus they're back on me.... *coupla minutes later*
Now, just Daisy won't go 'way.
Silly little thing. I don't know what happened to her, but a few days ago, something was wrong.
She'd been quiet for a looong time and I finally realized I hadn't heard her barking incessantly for a while, so I looked out the back door. Took a head count, kinda. The other three were already bouncing around all over the place, so I called her. Nuttin'. Called again. Still nuttin'.
I hollered her name and she came out from either under or behind the oil tank, walking real slow. The other three dogs ran up to her and she kinda fell into a sitting position. Then, she had a hard time regaining her legs to stand.
WTF? I threw on a pair of boots that didn't exactly match the flannel granny gown I was wearing, but what the hell, went out there, scooped her up and brought her in.
I felt everywhere, down both hind legs, across the pelvis, moved limbs, palpated, massaged and felt for heat or swelling. Nada.
No obvious injuries of any kind. I left her in all day and by that night, she was fine again. Now, she's back to her old self, drving us all deaf, yapping her hairy ass off. Okay.
I think "Operation Clean Up the Cat Food Both New and Used" is about over.
It's about time to put ever'body back out, feed up, water them good and git to finishing cleaning. Talk atcha's later...
Peace P.S.
I'm still waaaiting.
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