I’m going to change my name from “The Food Lady” to “Dogs Make Me Grouchy And Are Bad For My Bank Account So I’m Getting Goldfish Instead.” Yes, it’s rather a mouthful, but it more accurately reflects today’s current trends.
Hot on the heels of Piper trying to commit suicide and then swallowing the evidence, Tweed limps onto the stage and steals the show for a while. But when you have a houseful of ornery dogs, nobody gets to be the star for very long. Someone always comes along and thieves their thunder. This week’s contender is the $250.00, three layer stitch job that Diva Dexter demanded this week.
How do you suppose this massive flap of skin removed itself from Dexter’s person?
Why the eff are you glaring at me? You want some too, b*tch?
Now to be fair, I didn’t see it happen. I didn’t see anything. I wouldn’t even have seen the GIANT GAPING WOUND had I not given Dexter our ritualistic full body hug before bed on Wednesday night, which made him yelp and wince. I poked and prodded the poor guy all over until my hand came up bloody and I found myself staring at his ribs without the customary pesty hair and skin impeding my vision.
Poor Dexter :(
The ONLY reason I have not throttled TWooie with my bare hands is that I didn’t catch him in the act. I can’t prove he did it, and to be fair it could have been an accidental grab by The Sproinging Terrier, or even Piper exacting retribution on Dex for pouncing on her while she was spinning for her ball, but since TWooie likes to snap at Dexter’s ribs and butt while Dex is whirling away from his teeth, I have to assume it was the fat bastard who did this. And I’m ANGRY.
Yeah yeah yeah. Whatevah.
Now I’m down not one, but TWO agility dogs. Tweed’s week of crate rest is up today, but he’s still regulated to on-leash walks only for another week. Now Dexter is in the same boat, as running could cause fluid to build up in the wound, so I’ve got two jacked up border collies who can’t have the amount of exercise they are used to, and the tension in this place is building like you wouldn’t believe. Tweed is very, very grouchy.
Screw you AND the horse you rode in on.
Last night, for no discernible reason whatsoever, Tweed picked Dexter up by the face and hurled him to the floor and tried to lay a beating on him of epic proportions. Dexter squealed like a stuck pig, and fortunately for everyone I was right there and removed Tweed from Dexter’s face with the force of a woman WHO IS STILL VERY ANGRY ABOUT WHAT TWOOIE DID TO DEXTER.
I swear, I just want to close my eyes and vanish into a world where no vet wants anything from my wallet ever again.
I like to vanish into a world where you never say “Wootie drop it! Wootie leave it! Wootie come here RIGHT NOW!”
Piper’s diggin’ living in the land of the walking wounded, because it means she always gets the frisbee, since her contender-brother are leashed to me.
Except when her little sister decides she wants to play.
Pretty much only two things have made me happy this week.
These are in my dining room under a heat lamp, hopefully growing into full sized, egg laying hens. There are 3 Black Copper Marans (with feathered legs!), 3 Light Sussex and 4 Welsummers. Their peeping is surprisingly cheerful and relaxing.
But otherwise, I feel pretty much like this right now:
Are you sure I can’t make you laugh?
Bad luck comes in threes, right? It’s all over now, RIGHT?!?!