Sleeping Arrangements - Update

The Husband calls me this morning.
"You gotta come and see this. Crazy dog!"

Why he finds this comfortable is beyond me.




He didn't even move when I took this picture.
Well, I shouldn't say that.
He lifted his head.
A tiny bit.



What?
Go away.
It's not time to get up yet.

Notice the blankets all willy-nilly.
And all the toys gathered 'round.

What a character.
TH is right.
Crazy dog.

Sleeping Arrangements at the Crazy Household

The livestock, as The Husband calls them, have their own special sleeping idiosyncrasies.

As I've mentioned before, Kitty is a bitch and doesn't get along with Puppy. So she lives happily sequestered in the master bedroom. Most days, we don't bother making the bed. Kitty tends to bury herself under the covers and I feel guilty taking away her happy place.

But a messy bed = a messy bedroom.

Not that I'm the best housekeeper. In fact, I really suck at it. The place only gets a good cleaning when we have company. Just ask The Husband. But once in a while I get on a bit of a tidy bender and need to be neat for a while. I'm in Tidy-Mode right now. So the bed is made every morning. Which pisses off Kitty even more.

When the bed is made, she tends to bury herself within the pile-o-pillows.

See ...
there's a little orange furball amongst all those pillows.
Look closely.

She peaks out to see what's going on.



Oh.
It's you.
I was napping you know.
Go away.



Do you mind?!



Gawd!
She's SO cranky!
She's positively glaring at me.
Biotch.

Fine.
Let's go see where Puppy sleeps.
Come with me to the den.

When we adopted Puppy, we were told that Greyhounds are often caged with newspapers, which they shred to make a bed. In order to transition to living in a home, they like to have blankets. So we dug out some old blankets. Which he seems to really love.

Puppy and I play the Blanket Game.
Every day.

Before I go to bed, I fold his blankets into a pile and put his toys on top.

The multi-coloured thing-a-ma-bob on the left is the toy he came with. The hedgehog in the middle and the cow on the right are the toys we gave him when he came to live with us. He loves his toys. He moves them, one at a time, from one place to another every day. He starts out in the den, then takes them downstairs in the afternoon. Then back up again at night to sleep.

Over the course of the evening, he paws at the blankets and gets them into a comfortable position.

I wake up to this:



Once in a while, we let it go to see what will happen. The blankets usually end up halfway across the room. It can get out of control. So before I go to work, I tidy it up a bit.

You'll note that Mr. Hedgehog is AWOL.
He's probably waiting for Puppy downstairs.
So they can play their reindeer games.

Puppy Pics

Busy Bee Suz asked me to post pictures of Puppy. And I'm happy to oblige. Honestly, I'm like a gushing parent with this guy.

We did a lot of reading before we decided to adopt Puppy. Personality traits, pros, cons. This seemed like the perfect dog for us. They're already house broken. They sleep all day long. They don't bark much. Perfect.

And they're very affectionate. We're talking big, wet kisses. I mean look at that tongue! It's HUGE!



I like this next picture. This was taken shortly after we got him, so I wasn't sure what that face meant.

Now I do. Ears up. Tongue pulled back in. It means:

"Whassat?! Is that a bunny? Should I go after it?! I wanna go after it! Let me go after it!!"



And this is how we find him when we come home from work. Showing everyone his junk. Like he's all proud or something. A Ron Jeremy wanna-be.


Put that thang away, dude! No one wants to see your lipstick!!

And the chase is on

I was out walking Puppy last night. It was a pretty exciting walk for him.

As we're strolling up the street, we see this little furball running full tilt right at us. Its little bell is tinkling loudly. This takes us both by surprise. Puppy especially.

He's used to seeing bunnies run across his path. Which he usually tries to chase. He doesn't get far, what with the leash and all. But this was different. This was bigger than a bunny, it made a tinkling sound and more confusing was the fact that this thing was barrelling right at us.

Puppy stops. His ears go up. I thought he was going to chase after it. Instead, he actually took a step back. Glanced up at me and then watched this chubby little cat run right in front of him, up the hill and behind a house. Puppy looks at me. I swear it was almost like he was saying "What the hell was that?"

We continue on our walk. Which eventually brings us back to the same place. And sure enough, the furball is back. Puppy isn't fooled this time. His ears go up, he glances back at me and I know he's thinking "Screw this! I'm going after it this time!"

And he does! Pulling me along behind him. Have I mentioned how strong greyhounds are?

"Come on!" he's saying. "It's getting away!!" He's pulling and tugging on the leash trying to catch up to the cat. I'm just about peeing myself cuz I'm laughing so hard. Needless to say, the cat gets away, and we continue home.

Puppy's usual manner is to walk right beside me, nudging my hand once in a while with his nose just to say "Hey". Not this time. He walked just a little in front of me all the way home. I think it was his way of letting me know he was pissed off I let the cat get away.

Sorry, dude. Maybe next time.

Sick and Tired

I went home from work early last Wednesday with the nastiest cold.
It started last Sunday and progressively got worse.
By Wednesday I couldn't take it anymore.
I told HR I was taking Thursday and Friday off and went home.
To bed.

My head was pounding.
My ears were plugged up and throwing off my equilibrium.
My nose was runny.
I had laryngitis.

To cap it all off, I woke up Thursday morning with Pink Eye.
Nice.
I dragged my sorry self to the walk-in clinic to get a prescription for eye drops.
Came home and vegged on the couch.

Puppy insisted on coming by and checking on me every hour or so.

SLURP!!
You all right Mummy?
I kiss you and make it better!

Thanks, Puppy.

I'm on the mend, but still not feeling 100%.
My voice is still rough.
I'm told it sounds sexy.
1-900 babish.
Whatever.
It doesn't feel sexy.
And if you come near me, I'll give you my cold!

Did I mention I'm still a little cranky?

Who let the dog out? Who? Who??

Kitty is quite vocal in the morning. I haven't quite figured out what she's going on about, but she makes it sound important.

This morning, as always, I gathered her bowls together so I could take them downstairs to the kitchen to clean and refill them. All the while, she's nattering on about God knows what.

As I came down the stairs, I said to The Husband "There's no way I could ever forget to feed Kitty. She's meowing like crazy up there."

The Husband freezes. "Oh shit!" And he races for the sliding doors. There's Puppy, looking VERY displeased, on the other side of the glass.

"How long has he been out there?"

"I don't know … 20 minutes? I forgot about him!"

Nice.

Puppy walks in the door, brushing right past The Husband. He turns around and gives The Husband a dirty look, snorts, then walks over to me for a hug. I croon all over Puppy while he glares at The Husband. The Husband comes over to try and pet him, but Puppy walks away with his nose in the air.

Oh snap! Who's in the doghouse now?!

The Bunny Serial Killer

It's been one year since we adopted Puppy.

Puppy is a retired racing greyhound. He's a joyful addition to our family. Kitty, however, will tell you otherwise. She's a bitch and doesn't like Puppy. Puppy wants to play, but she just hisses at him.

It's chaos if they're left to roam the house together, so Kitty lives happily sequestered in the master bedroom. All her toys are there, her food is in the corner and the walk-in closet houses her 'shitter' (as The Husband calls it). She stayed in the bedroom all day anyway, buried beneath the covers, so this isn't really any different from her life pre-Puppy. Or at least that's what I try to tell myself. I figure if I say it often enough, I'll begin to believe it.

The other night, I let Puppy out for his evening pee. He did what he normally does. He bolted out the door and ran to the back garden. There is often a neighbour cat lurking about and Puppy has a good time chasing it away. It's all harmless fun for everyone. Well, maybe not so much for the neighbour's cat, but we get a good laugh out of it.

But this time was different.

This time he caught something. I heard the most horrible squeal and a crunch. My heart leapt into my throat. I couldn't catch my breath. Puppy turned around and came running back to me. In his mouth was a baby bunny, feebly moving.

OH. MY. GOD!!

I yell for The Husband who, hearing the panic in my voice, comes running. He stops in his tracks. Oh my God, he mutters. He walks towards Puppy slowly so as not to make him bolt. "Drop it!" Puppy won't let go. The Husband tries to pry Puppy's mouth open, but he won't budge.

After much effort, Puppy finally drops the bunny. The bunny flops a bit, then dies.

We look at each other, The Husband and I, and I know that the sadness I see in his eyes is mirrored in mine.

We bury the bunny in silence.

Later that evening, The Husband says to me, "I saw the bunnies in the backyard. I even took a picture of one of them." He's really broken up about this. We both are.

The next day, The Husband is working a double shift. I'm on my own. I let Puppy out for his evening pee. He's running around the back yard, sniffing in various places, trying to find just the right location. He stops and sniffs in one spot. His sniffing becomes more animated. Suddenly he lunges and I hear that horrible squeal again and crunch.

JESUS!

He comes running towards me with this bunny flopping around in his mouth. Puppy drops his present for me at my feet. This tiny, helpless bunny is flopping away.

I lose it.

I was OK last night, but two nights in a row … how much can a girl take??! I get Puppy inside the house. The bunny is still thrashing around. I call The Husband at work cuz I'm freaking out now and I need some advice. The answering machine kicks in, so I leave a message: "Call me!" I'm crying and hiccoughing.

I go back out to the backyard and the bunny is still thrashing. Shit! I know what I have to do. And I know that it's the only merciful thing to do, but I'm sick about it. I go to the shed and get a shovel … and I end the bunny's suffering.

I start bawling. I don't mean just crying. I mean BAWLING! I'm hyperventilating and hiccoughing, all the while asking the gods not to smite me for taking an innocent life … I'm really losing it.

The phone rings. I answer the one in the garage. I'm still hiccoughing. The Husband asks what's wrong … thinking someone died, someone hurt me … all sorts of things are going through this poor man's head. I tell him what happened, stuttering the entire time. I can hear it in his voice; he's sick about this. He feels bad for the bunny, but even worse that I had to go through it alone.

The Husband did what he does best and he calmed me down and made me feel better. I love this man! I thank the gods every day for him.

It's been two weeks and, as the saying goes, time is slowly doing its healing thing. I can still hear those squeals and crunch. It knocks the breath out of me every time I think about it.

I know that Puppy was only behaving in the manner in which Mother Nature intended. And I know that I did the right thing by ending the bunny's suffering. But I can't help but think that Puppy is now a serial bunny killer. In fact, I'm an accomplice in all of this, since I had to kill the second one. And we're only aiding and abetting by burying the bodies in the backyard.

I can still see Puppy's face. He was so excited -- ears up, tailing wagging. I'm sure he was thinking: "Look Mom!! I've been chasing these things for years and I never caught one before. Look at this! I finally caught one and I'm going to give it to you cuz I love you so much! "

Thanks Puppy. I love you too. Next time, just get me a card.