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Yes, My Child Still Ate the Ice Cream Cone

19 Jun

Jack Russell

No, this is not becoming a dog blog. But this makes me laugh.

We were on the way back from the dog park, and stopped at Dairy Queen to get ice cream cones. While we were waiting for our order, our Jack Russell looked so sad sitting staring at my daughter’s cone.

So I decided to take her picture — at the same time as she decided to stop staring and start licking! (I like how the cone is tilting off to one side like it’s trying to escape.)

A perfect summer moment for saving before it melted away.

 

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Why I Will Never Be Asked To Blog For Roomba

17 Jun

About a month ago, we bought a Roomba, a robot vacuum that dances happily around the floor sucking up dirt and dog hair all by itself, and I must say, it’s been a game-changer.

We have 3 dogs who live inside. And one, a corgi, wins the gold medal in the fur-shedding Olympics. If I could figure out how to knit his sheddings into coats, I could clothe a third-world country a week. I’m serious. I think he grows 5 completely new sets of fur a day. He just walks through a room and it goes from hardwood floors to shag carpet.

Who, me? You lie.

The first few times the Roomba ran, it would stop every 10 minutes and inform us, in a sad, disappointed voice with a touch of fear, that its brushes needed cleaning. I think it really wanted to ask “what have I done to deserve this God-forsaken assignment,” but the folks at iRobot have wisely given it limited vocabulary.

Which is good, because the first time it ventured under the couch, I am pretty sure the Roomba wanted to unleash a string of profanities that would make a Dyson blush.

But eventually, with regular use, the little spinning robot actually began to win the battle on fur and dirt. It could run an entire cycle without needing its brushes cleaned. So then, I started scheduling it to automatically vacuum the living room every morning while we were still sleeping.

It worked beautifully. I awoke every morning to singing birds and pristine floors. The Roomba, its work done, had docked itself to recharge. I cheerfully emptied out its bin while I waited for my coffee to brew.

I thought we were all happy with this arrangement.

Then, this morning, as I sleepily lurched towards the door to let the dogs out, I stepped on something.

It had a weird texture, like bits of a brownie left out overnight.  I couldn’t quite see it, so I walked over to turn on the light… and then the two horrifying things registered into my brain. Realizations of terror that will be there forever.

First, my nose woke up enough to recognize the horrific smell in the living room. Then, I realized that what my bare foot was standing in was, in fact, unequivocably NOT a brownie.

Then, I turned on the light.

And there, I saw the revenge of the Roomba.

Sometime in the night, one of the dogs had apparently come into the living room and left the gift of poop. Then, as we slept, the Roomba had gone to work with its spinning brushes. Finding the poop too big to devour, it instead spun it into poop confetti, whirring and flinging it around the living room with wild abandon.

I don’t like to use profanity on this blog, but the phrase “shit storm” has never been more accurate. The single poop left by the dog had been turned into a thousand, like Tribbles multiplying endlessly.

Tribbles

Huh, these smell weird.

And in the midst of it, the Roomba. Its indicator light blinking ominously. When I pushed it, it said serenely “Error. Open Roomba’s brush compartment for cleaning.”

An hour’s worth of Swiffering, and disinfecting, and scrubbing later, the room was livable again. I cleaned the Roomba (you’re being spared details of this because I love you.) and plugged it back onto its docking station. And because it was still early, and I wanted to start Saturday over again, I headed back down the hall to bed.

And I swear, that’s when I heard the Roomba snickering.

 

 

Water Wars

13 Jul

It’s very challenging to get the plants watered at our house.

Because the dogs? They are insane.

Just watch.

Ninja Dog

21 Apr

Me: Uh, WTH? You’re in the car?

Ninja Dog: Oh, yeah — hi.

Me: I specifically recall telling you “stay.” Also, the phrase “no, Bailey,” may have been gently uttered.

Ninja Dog: Ninja Dog does not “stay.” Ninja dog slips out the door in a blur of awesome. Ninja dog gets in the car before you even notice.  I’m a Jackie Chan Russell.

Me: Jackie Chan Russell? SERIOUSLY???

Ninja Dog: I’m done talking now. Ninja dog is looking for cats.

The Poo Promenade

5 Feb

A dance inspired by the joys of pet ownership. Practiced since pioneer times.

Saddle up, ye kiddies and gather ’round,

For the most exciting dance in town.

All winter long, the dogs have gone,

Pooping, pooping all day long.

In the backyard cold and brown,

Leaving landmines on the ground.

Yee haw!

So grab two bags from H.E.B.

And everybody follow me.

Dip to the right, pick one up!

Dip to the left, pick one up.

Fresh ones we call Stanley Steamers,

Dried  ones look like squirrel femurs.

Dip to the left, dip to the right.

Bag those poops ’til the ground’s in sight.

Yee haw!

I know you think this is a bore,

But dadgum it, I do all the chores.

Now it’s your time to mine some poo,

Come on and sing, and mind your shoes.

Dip to the left, pick one up.

Dip to the right, pick one up.

At least a Jack Russell is the source.

It’d be much worse if we had a horse.

Yee haw!

Requiem for a Beta Fish

24 Nov

We are gathered here today to remember the life of Surfer, the beta fish.

Surfer was born who knows where and when, and adopted into our family when, on my son’s 9th birthday, our family made a pilgrimage to PetSmart. Although Surfer was not his first choice, and came after the suggestions of a German Shepherd puppy, snake, hamster, guinea pig, minature horse, pet kangaroo, and elephant fell to a parental veto, he was quite delighted with his new fish. Continue reading

Squirrel Talk

10 Jun

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.

They just let the dogs out and I can’t get out of the yard fast enough.

What am I going to do? Whoever said “White Dogs Can’t Jump” never saw the Jack Russell terrier that lives here.

I am so dead.

All the nuts I could have eaten, all the birdseed I could have stolen. My life flashing before my beady little eyes. Why me?

*whispers* “Rosebud…”

Wait, maybe if I stay perfectly still and pretend I am part of the tree, they won’t see me.

This could work. They’re sniffing, but not looking up.

It is working! I am going to LIVE! LIVE, I say!

Suck it. dogs.

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