Head ‘em Up, Move ‘em Out

Why didn't anyone tell me that puppies are so much work? I mean, come on you guys knew I wanted a puppy for at least a year now. Could someone have warned me that once I have a puppy I won't be allowed to wallow any longer? Not in front of the TV, in front of book or even on the toidy?

I left work at 5 p.m. yesterday driving to pick up a measly little (life-saving!) prescription at the Safeway on 41st and did not get home due to traffic until just before 7 p.m. By the time I arrived home I was starving -- could hardly slurp down a half cup of soup! Bella was starving too though she has her priorities (whatever's in front of her face at any given second) -- she needed to take at least two more walks before bedtime. Plus she had to pick a fight with the metal rake I was using to rake up assorted forest fluff in front of the fence along the road. Bella yelped charged and snarled at the rake. I'll never have to sweep, vacuum, or rake again. Deal!

She wants to hurt herd everything, people, rakes. People are tempted to take off their shoes and let her play with their shoes but then she skips the shoes and goes right for their toes with a vengeance. I may change her name to Vampira. That name suits her much more than Bella.

I had to teach Hannah not to run away screaming when Bella runs after her to attack and starts to bite. I told her "Bella thinks we're cows! Stand still!" (moo) I picked Hannah up from school yesterday, and while climbing into the vertical hotrod, Hannah exclaimed "I'll bet Bella misses me!" I said, "Yes, you, and the smelly contents of any litterbox."

I had forgotten this one thing about dogs  -- they love gross, smelly, disgusting things. Bad smelly things. Dirty clothes, diapers (not mine (yet), anyone's), poop, peep. Dogs will eat other animal poop. Bella spent 10 minutes scraping a dried body part from a hit and run lizard out of the center of the road. She licked at this lizard pancake, snarled at it. You would have thought she'd discovered truffles. Alas, it was only lizard leather.

I owned two dogs in the past both of whom/which I killed (just like I killed my cat with diabetes). One day my dogs ran off into the forest. I couldn't catch them - didn't even bother. My only hope (sort of) was that they'd return some day for a dog biscuit. And they returned in an hour or so bringing with them a ten pound deer leg replete with maggots, flies, tufts of fur, sinews and other assorted forest crud and creatures. They came into the house through the dog door carrying the leg like a trophy. They were sitting in the front room with the bloody, stinky leg splayed out on the carpeting, gnawing at the pieces. According to them, the only sad thing about the deer leg was that it had not be dipped in month old, tossed-by-the-roadside baby diaper gravy first.

I guess I have to start using a real clothing hamper instead of my bedroom floor" hamper." I can't leave anything laying around. I have to find a way to be cleaner, neater, less hoarder-ey. Cleanliness wasn't in my plan. I always thought of myself as a hoarder without much stuff though I'm told it's not actually hoarding to keep piles of dust. All my dust rhinos look as if they should be piled among books, old blankets and trinkets from past lives but so much of the stuff has gone yet the dust remains.

I keep thinking that through all the trial and tribulations -- the deaths, cancer, horror, mayhem, terrible floods, horrid landslides,  -- I'm not gonna let this puny little dog be the boss A me. She may bleed me to death, try to herd me into a beehive. She may bite through my clothing, piercing my left nipple which happened just yesterday though I'm making lemonade out of lemons and having the right nipple pierced later today so they match. Come hell or high water, I'm going to train this puppy to quit making me work so hard. Me and my herd of dust rhinos are in need of a long nap.