Heart Like a Dog

The Good, the Bad, and the Oh My God of living with dogs!

I Know Why They’re Called Bugs

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It’s hot and it’s humid and walking in that shit sucks. Sunday morning I walked the dogs just before 7:00 and sweat like a whore on payday.

The dogs don’t care, they still want to walk. Mornings are typically manageable, but afternoons, well it’s just too damn hot. So I’ve taken to loading the dogs in the car and heading off to the woods. Long time readers know Sampson and I love the woods. Walking in the woods this time of year has it’s good and bad points.

The Good…

  • Being able to see people or dogs heading our way – we’ve had so many winter storms that damaged so many trees,  that for the most part there is good visibility on the trails. Usually it’s enough time to change direction or scream, “My dogs are on leash!”
  • Not having to deal with cars – honestly the people in my neighborhood drive WAY too fast. And sometimes WAY too close. Once I had to literally jump and pull the dogs out of the way to avoid being struck!
  • Being able to let Sampson off-leash – while the dogs aren’t horrible together (most days) once in the woods they are vying to lead the way. Eliminating Sampson on leash makes a world of difference with Delilah.
  • Shade – even though a lot of trees are dead or damaged, there are still many more that continue to provide some relief from the relentless summer sun.
  • Cooler temperatures – of course less sun usually means the woods are a tad bit cooler than street walking. Besides I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t make a good street walker. (I sweat too much.) 🙂
  • Leaving the poop – no, no, I pick it up, it’s just they have a handy little receptacle at the exit of the park. It sure helps keep my garbage pail from smelling like a landfill.

The bad…

  • Bugs – I hate bugs but they love me. I walk in and it’s like the all night diner at 2:00 am. Their fly bys past my ears are worthy of Tom Cruise in Top Gun. And yes, I jump and swear just like the commanding officer does. Good thing I’m not walking with coffee.
  • Uncontrolled off-leash dogs – most of the people that frequent the woods walk their dogs off-leash, and when I say off-leash, I mean the people are usually one place, while their dogs are in another. Most of them just don’t care either.
  • Bugs – Ever snort a bug? That shit burns worse than shooting soda out your nose. I was just walking along minding my own business and the fucker flew right up my nose.
  • Dog poop – the lovely folks that let their dogs run rampant don’t clean up after them either. You gotta watch where you’re stepping.
  • Bugs – I swallowed a bug last year. I was hoarse for a week and I all I could think was, “A bug, I swallowed a bug.” I don’t care what the experts say, I see absolutely no nutritional value in them and no, they don’t taste like chicken.
  • Wild life – while I do love seeing the animals in their natural environment, it can sometimes be difficult to keep the dogs under control. Last week Sampson could smell something. I looked all around and finally spotted this.
Doe a deer

Can you see it?

Deer

Whatchu looking at? Never seen a deer before?

We had a moment, enough of a moment for me to snap a couple of photos, and the dogs never caught on to what I was watching, but after the second photo, she let a big whoosh of  air out, it sounded like a honk and she took off.

  • Spider webs – I wish someone would send those damn spiders a memo and tell them to stop putting their webs across trees at face height. Nothing like a clingy, sticky web in your face to make you scream like a girl.
  • Clothes – in order to protect myself from the…bugs, I have to wear long pants, a long-sleeved shirt and socks. And let me tell you it gets hot being covered up.  And that still doesn’t stop them. Four years ago I got cellulitis from a deer fly that bit me THROUGH my long sleeve shirt! Most days I head home and sit in the air conditioning in my underwear.
  • Bugs – nothing I spray on myself keeps those little bastards off me. Honestly, I even swat them and they STILL come back. How hard to you have to whack a bug to knock it into next week?

Now I know why they’re called bugs. They bug the ever loving shit out of me.

Fuggin’ Cats

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Fuggin’ Cats

Imagine this. You’re sitting on the toilet taking care of business and the phone rings, or a spider walks across the floor in front of you.

Part of you wants to jump up and answer the phone or kill that spider. But your brain says, “The person calling will leave a message and you can call them back.” And, “You can kill that spider when you finish what you are doing.”

BUT if for some reason your brain decides you should stop what you’re doing and answer that phone, or take care of that spider, your colon will let you know in no uncertain terms that you have more important business to tend to. (*Remember, the asshole is always in charge.)

NOW imagine you’re a dog, and your squatting on someone’s lawn doing your morning constitutional AND your human hasn’t done her part in scoping out the area; you’re laying the smack down on a nice patch of green grass, and you look up to see this.

Aloof Cat

I’m a cat, we’re like Honey Badgers, we just don’t give a shit.

Coincidentally your human pulls her head out of her ass and spots it the same time you do, “Leave it!” she says, which alerts your canine companion that something of interest has entered the scene. Immediately your canine friend goes on alert, her eyes searching the area looking for the culprit, and it doesn’t take her long to spot exactly what it is that you are seeing.

Meanwhile, that fuggin’ cat sits there, not more than 15 feet away from you and tries to stare you down. This gets your dander up and you bark, then lunge at that insolent cat.

Oh Mama, are you you being dramatic again?

You want a piece of me, cat?

Your canine companion has your back and joins in the fracas.

Delilah likes chasing cats

I like cats. Mostly chasing them, but I like cats.

Your human meanwhile, is shushing you (it’s 6:15 in the morning after all) and trying to figure out exactly HOW she’s going to a) get you to leave that fuggin’ cat alone and b) get you calm enough so she can bend down and collect the lovely gift you just left on Fuggin’ Cat’s lawn, then hightail it out of there without anyone losing any fur.

Fuggin’ cats!

*The asshole is always in charge…a.k.a. one of my favorite jokes of all time.

All the organs of the body were having a meeting trying to decide who was the one in charge.
“I should be in charge” said the Brain, “Because I run all the body’s systems, so without me, nothing would happen.”
“I should be in charge” said the Blood, “Because I circulate oxygen to all organs of the body, without me you would all just waste away.”
“I should be in charge” said the Stomach, “Because I process food, providing all the nutrients you need to keep yourselves running strong.”
And so it went, with all the various organs voicing their opinions about who should be in charge.
Finally the Rectum spoke up, “I should be in charge, because I’m responsible for waste removal. Where would you be without me?”
All the body parts laughed and laughed at the Rectum, which really insulted him, so he shut down.
Within a few days, the Brain was foggy and couldn’t function, the Blood was toxic and polluting the other organs, the Stomach was bloated and full of unprocessed food. And the organs all agreed the Rectum should be boss.

The moral of the story is…the Asshole is always in charge.

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Heart Like a Dog



Honey, I Lost the Dog

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Last Monday was a bit of a wash, it was a long ass day that turned into a long ass night.

Without boring you with the minutia of my life, let’s just say Hubby was late getting home, which left us eating late, which left us pitching a tent in the dark.

Don’t ask. 

Needless to say, time got away from us and when I finally noticed Delilah’s pitiful ‘you missed my snack look’ it was after 10:00. I immediately obliged her, then went to give Sampson his.

I couldn’t find him. He had been in the dining room the last time I saw him. I figured he got tired and went to bed.

But he hadn’t.

I searched every room in the house.

Nothing.

I went outside and called him.

I got squat.

I walked to the other end of the house where he likes to lay and pout.

He wasn’t there.

I went back in the house and checked every room again.

Every. Single. Room.

I checked the door to my mom’s, it was shut.

I went back outside. “I can’t find Sampson” I said with a tinge of panic in my voice.

“Did you check every room?”

I rolled my eyes, and my inner bitch said, “What the fuck cowboy? This isn’t my first rodeo you know.”

My outer bitch said, “Of course I did!”

Hubby stopped what he was doing and went storming through the house checking every room.

No dog.

He went outside and called.

Still no dog.

“Did you check your mom’s?”

“No, the door was shut.”

Heart pounding in my chest I leaned over the railing to make sure the door was shut, just as my mother opened it and let the little asshole up the stairs.

Chocolate Lab

And I’m supposed to be the problem dog. But where was I? Sitting here eating my Kong, thankyouverymuch!

 

Apparently he doesn’t have opposable thumbs to open the door, but that whip of a tail of his is enough to close it.

You’ve done this right? Lost your dog in your own house, I mean like, it’s not just me is it?

 

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