Thursday, March 15, 2012
"What's Moo Thinking Now, Mama?"
I hear this question at least twice a day. It's the kids' invitation for an impromptu account of the thought life of our puppy/dog, Mitzi "Moo." They think she's hilarious. So to make sure that no one gets the idea that this blog has any point in real life, here you go:
A Day in The Life of Moo
6:00 a.m. I am finally let out of solitary confinement (the CRATE). My owners actually call it "IT" or spell it lest I hear the word and go into hiding under a bed somewhere. My morning calisthenics are first priority. This entails stretching full length while leaning up against my female owner. Then into the downward-dog yoga position, tail into the air. Then one good shake all over, and I'm thrown out the back door. This early morning constitutional in the chilly air may last 3 minutes or 3 hours. It all depends on if the ALMIGHTY SHE of the house remembers I'm out here or not. I'm far too sophisticated to whine. I prefer to stand on the porch's table and stare very pointedly in through the window at her. If the blinds are closed, I may knock over the begonia and dig in the dirt for revenge.
6:05 a.m. Hopefully. This is when she lets me in. If Dad is up, I try to eat the hair off his toes without getting smacked. He has great toes! I'm a bit obsessed, I admit. If the kids are in bed, and SHE has forgotten to close their doors, I will jump on their heads until SHE finds out. Plan B: find a slipper and chew. If SHE is having a particularly organized morning, she will throw me a rawhide when I first come in to keep me busy.
7:00 a.m. Schoolbus time. This is most frustrating. There are a gazillion kids out there looking for ME, of course. So I bark and whine and SHE gets mad if the other kids aren't up yet.
7:00-9:00 a.m. Bark at anyone else that happens to walk by. The CAT next door often leisurely struts back and forth in front of the window just to watch me bark. So annoying.
9:00 a.m. Special day. Normally I'm back in solitary for this stretch of homeschooling, but today SHE has gone out of her mind (in a good way) and has decided to take me and the other kids for a hike in Moss Rock Preserve, complete with picnic lunch. I hear the previous dog of the house liked to lie still in the car, presumably from nausea. I attempt to jump from front to back (most disapproved of), and am happiest balanced on two toenails looking out the crack in the window. This is most easily managed on straight roads, in which Alabama is sadly lacking. So I also do a lot of falling. But no worries- I'm quite the stuntgirl.
9:30 a.m. Hike time. This is the woods! Yay- lots of trees to wrap my leash around. I take full advantage of this opportunity. Then I get the idea that I'm to stick to the trails and take the family on a full trot. Why should we cross the bridge when we can splash through the streams? Lovely. Wait! A huge boxer (my SHE is afraid of big dogs) has deserted his owner and is bounding through the woods at us. I'll save her the trouble of dragging me over to meet him, as WE ARE GOING TO MEET. I'll just break this expensive retractable leash in half, no big deal. Oh, and a yellow Lab- lovely. Three's a crowd, so their SHE scoops me up and returns me with a half-hearted 'sorry.' Now my SHE has to short-cut out of the woods and walk back to the car with two hot kids, carrying me like a spoiled infant. Feet in the air and everything. Which I like actually. The wet muddy feet sticking up catch a cool breeze as the human kids trudge along behind.
10:15 a.m. Having successfully completed my first (and SHE says last hike), I collapse in the front seat. SHE sweats away, turning one a/c on the other kids and one on me. We stop for ice cream. She doesn't let me get one. Hmph!
11:15 a.m. Home! I'm thrown in the backyard, something about dirt. The kids have their baths and then shock! I'm thrown into their bathwater. This is the worst part of my day so far. They all stand around and cackle. I can't see them, because the schnauzer cut leaves my eyes covered with hair. They say mean things like, "drowned rat" and "chihuahua" and "hilarious." I spend 15 minutes scraping my head across the carpet getting all the water out.
12:15 p.m. Hear "Up!" This is a bearable command, as it means I sleep on Dad's side of the bed while SHE collapses. She just likes my company. (Editor's note: I just don't trust her to run around while I'm unconscious, for obvious reasons.)
The rest of the day follows suit. I chew and chew some more. CDs, socks, slippers, stuffed animals. I can't pass a small trash can without tipping it over to investigate. SHE does a pretty good job unfortunately of keeping the bathroom doors closed. Toilet water is such a rare and lovely treat. Sigh...
10:00 p.m. Wake up. Discover that SHE didn't shut the crate door well. Smile sadistically to myself. Climb into Sissy's bed which is so much more comfortable.
1:00 a.m. Need to pee. Fortunately, I don't have to wait 'til morning like most nights. Make a puddle on living room carpet. I really DO like my SHE, and I really DON'T like how she treats me when she finds my puddles. Thankfully, the bathroom door is open. I carefully pull out the whole roll of toilet paper and spread it around the floor near my puddle. Maybe she'll see I tried. Chew on a lost crayon. Chew on a toy car. Bite the plastic tiger's tail off. Go back to bed. It's been a long day.
(Editor: the last part of this day BETTER not happen again. It has recently! The first part of this day is today's story. I so wish this story had the appropriate pictures, maybe later. The babysitters who watch my kids say she's sweet, but just like a toddler- into everything!)
Posted by Charity at 1:41 PM