Where have I been?
I’ve been playing this really fantastic game called “Let’s not kill the new puppy that chews up everything in sight”.
Somewhere between ‘La-La Land’ and the goo that seeped through the cracks of my brain; I was unable to comprehend the disadvantages of having a puppy.
I live in a quaint house, on a quiet block, in a claustrophobic subdivision with nosey neighbors. We have a retaining wall in our backyard that, for the past five years, displayed a lovely collection of noxious weeds and a dead tree.
In the past three weeks, Mr. Fricken Awesome and I have worked our asses off to give our little backyard a face-lift.
Thirty-seven trips to Lowes and Home Depot, two yards of mulch, one yard of fill dirt, 26 pounds of flowers, 704 pounds of bricks, one new umbrella and patio table complete with candle accessories and a bird-feeder later - we have a new backyard. That’s without mentioning the backbreaking lifting; pounding, digging, cussing and fit throwing that took place as well.
Boomer. Our ‘special’ Border Collie pup observed our efforts and attempted to test our patience on a couple of occasions by eating an entire 12-pack of Petunias in one sitting. He has also been introduced to my psycho behavior in lieu of him enjoying a taste test of my Geraniums that were planted. Assuming I had nipped his curiosity, I quickly came to the realization that my attempts at disciplining him were wasteful.
Overnight, my dog enjoyed his new oasis by first eating all but one of my candles that were part of a centerpiece for the patio table. Yes, a French-vanilla buffet was had in my yard. Can dogs digest wax? Really? I’m torn between taking him to the vet and sticking a match in him to give off the ambient lighting I so enjoy in the evenings.
While picking up the leftover pieces of wax on my grass, I noticed a rather large hole in the garden area. Dessert was my Petunias and Delphinium. I know I had more flowers in there but I cannot find them under all the dirt he dug out.
I’m bald now from all the hair I have pulled out.
While throwing away the wax and chewed up flowers I found my pup with his ass hanging out of the lawnmower bag.
**head tilted sideways**
I walked around to the back of the lawnmower and observed my dog-playing house inside the lawnmower bag. The entire side completely ripped out where he had placed his most prized squeaky toys and has decided that was their resting place.
For fear of being that person you read about in newspapers who lands a one night stay in the local jail for cruelty to animals, I’ve opted to place him in puppy time-out and make him write an essay on “why we don’t eat Momma’s effing flowers”!
I’m still working on my transition from Blogger to WordPress. I’ve decided that a Masters Degree in ‘What the Fuck Does This Button Do’ is necessary. I’m not exactly sure why all of my efforts are going towards this stupid blog. It’s not like Ellen is pounding down my door begging me to enlighten her and the world on my thoughts of stupid people or Wal-Mart dwellers.
Regardless, it’s still my place where I get to dictate how much yellow tape is necessary and where I get to throw mild temper tantrums.
I have a couple of good stories to share in the future. Like the one where I try to explain to my kid why I hate periods and he is confused by my distaste for punctuation.
Until then, happy blogging! I’m off to find an inexpensive electric fence for really cute puppy I just HAD TO HAVE!