I’m having one of those days. You know, the kind where you find yourself craving all the fat, sugar, and salt in the world. In other words, you desire an opportunity to eat your feelings. Or chips, salsa, and guacamole chased by a margarita, whatever.
It is seriously not my finest moment. Well, last night when I forgot to get Littlest from his friend’s house until 30 minutes later…that was probably a really not-fine moment. But today is ranking up there too. Continue reading
Ever find yourself oohing and awwwing over those pictures that litter the inter-webs, the ones that fill your Facebook, Twitter, and Reddit? You know the ones of a mama dog cuddling 8 kittens, or the fox and the fawn, or the giraffe and the lion cub, or the dolphin and the T-Rex? Okay, I made up that last one but you get my drift. All over the place is pictorial evidence that interspecies canoodling and cuddling happens. Rather like fur-covered “love sees no color” and all that. Well, I obviously have seen such pictures and I damn them. I damn them and their adorable furry little beastly hearts.
Because they made me dream. They made me dream that I too, could have such glory in my life.
If you have pets, you will deal with some not so fun things. Poop is really nothing in the big picture. Let’s talk about “infestations” and perhaps you will have the appropriate “creepy-crawly” reaction.
It seems that me, my house, my children, and my pets (aside from the fish thank god) are under the throes of a flea infestation. Great, first the swine flu and now fleas. Can’t all the dang bugs just leave me alone? But this opportunity to scratch myself silly brings to mind a previous pet tragedy. His name was Sampson.
Before I start, let me just state for the record that I actually do adore my pets. Really, I do. They are part of my family and I am so glad that we adopted them (Humane Society fur babies for this family, all the way).
But there are times when the fur babies drive me just a little cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs. Take this instant. The cat is taking a few laps across my desk and laptop in her morning affection ritual. Oh, and the dog finally got done alternating between sniffing the cat’s butt and laying his 70 pound head on my forearm. Who knew that the pets would suffer from sibling rivalry so badly? The dog loves the cat. The cat tolerates the dog. But both get twitchy if the other is getting attention from me. Oh, and both have to be in the bathroom if I’m in there, pestering me to pet them. Talk about a captive audience.