A typical working Monday in our house, or any other weekday, may look a little something like this: me on the couch, laptop in use, dogs hanging out throughout the house. However, if said dogs could talk, a typical day would probably sound a bit like this:
"Hey." Lola places her head on the couch next to me while wagging her tail.
"Hey. Now go lie down, I'm working." I push her head away and point toward the bed.
"I need to go out. I'm pretty sure I need to."
"But you just went out not ten minutes ago."
"But this time I have to poop. I'm pretty sure I really need to poop."
"I told you to poop the last time you were out."
"But I didn't have to poop then. Now I do."
"Dog, if I let you out you better poop."
"I will. I promise."
I get up off the couch, which is no easy feat when another basset hound and a Great Dane are lying on my legs. My movement wakes Georgia up.
"Are you going to feed me?"
"No, Georgia." She settles back down.
I walk Lola out to the side yard so she can do her business. When she's done, I sit back down on the couch, laptop on my legs, wearing my glasses and my wrist braces, and get back to work on my current task.
2 minutes later, I hear a bell ring. It's the one attached to the door to the backyard. The one the dogs ring to tell me they need to go outside.
dingaling dingaling aling.
I ignore it.
DINGALING A LING A LING DINGALING
Lucy stands by the door, one eye on me, ringing the bell with forceful deliberation.
"Lucy, lie down."
"But I have to go outside."
"Why didn't you go outside when I let Lola out?"
"I don't know. I wasn't feeling it."
"But you are now?"
"Yeah. Duh. I'm ringing the bell aren't I?"
"Fine." I sigh. "But you're staying out there for awhile."
"Whatever."
I get up, again, to open the back door for a dog, again. My movement wakes Georgia up, again.
"Are you going to feed me?"
"No, Georgia." She settles back down.
The door opens and Lucy runs straight up onto the hot tub and settles in for a nap in the sun. At least she'll be out there awhile. I sit back down on the couch and put my laptop back on my legs.
In the middle of an email ... RINAGALING A LING DINGALING A RING
"Lola, what the hell?"
"I wanna be on the hot tub too."
"Fine! But you're staying out there for awhile too."
"Ok, just let me out. Please. Please. Let me out. Please."
"UGH!"
I get up, again. To open the door for a dog, again. My movement wakes Georgia up, again.
"Are you going to feed me?"
"No, Georgia!" She settles back down with a very heavy sigh.
Lola hops on the hot tub and settles down to sniff the air and stare at birds and critters in the back yard. Lucy basks in the 95ยบ sun. I sit back down on the couch, laptop back on my legs, so I can finally finish the email I've been writing for the last five minutes.
But now I have to go to the bathroom.
It's amazing I get any work done.
Showing posts with label Lucy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lucy. Show all posts
Monday, September 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Safety First
You may find yourself asking why have I begun baby proofing my kitchen. You may stare with curiosity at the plastic bubbles adorning the knobs on my gas oven.
Could it be? Could the impossible have happened? Could a little England be on the way?
All signs point to "it seems so."
As it turns out, we're not expecting a bundle of "joy" because it's already here, in the form of a 3-year-old Great Dane. A pretty big puppy with an apparent penchant for arson.
I came home from a long day of work one day to find the kitchen about 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the house. How odd. Why? Is the a.c. vent clogged?
No. The gas burner was on. High.
Who knows how long that 5-inch flame was threatening the lives of my animals and the structural integrity of my house. It had to have been on a while since the tea kettle on the next burner over had hot water in it and the underside of the cabinets were too hot to touch.
But I saw that flame, rushed to turn it off, and promptly fell on the floor in tears. Horrible thoughts running through my head: "What if something had been on the stove that day?" "What if the burner hadn't lit and gas had filled the house, waiting for the refrigerator compressor to kick on."
Life is full of what-ifs. So I'm going to give credit where credit is due and thank God for saving my house, my animals and my life. And I'm going to enjoy these safety knobs on my oven that keep my pyromaniac dog at bay. Now, if I could just keep her away from the bananas on the counter.
Could it be? Could the impossible have happened? Could a little England be on the way?
All signs point to "it seems so."
I came home from a long day of work one day to find the kitchen about 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the house. How odd. Why? Is the a.c. vent clogged?
No. The gas burner was on. High.
Who knows how long that 5-inch flame was threatening the lives of my animals and the structural integrity of my house. It had to have been on a while since the tea kettle on the next burner over had hot water in it and the underside of the cabinets were too hot to touch.
But I saw that flame, rushed to turn it off, and promptly fell on the floor in tears. Horrible thoughts running through my head: "What if something had been on the stove that day?" "What if the burner hadn't lit and gas had filled the house, waiting for the refrigerator compressor to kick on."
Life is full of what-ifs. So I'm going to give credit where credit is due and thank God for saving my house, my animals and my life. And I'm going to enjoy these safety knobs on my oven that keep my pyromaniac dog at bay. Now, if I could just keep her away from the bananas on the counter.
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