Archive for January of 2009

11 Jan '09-14:02
The Jibblies

Have you ever had the jibblies? Last night I caught the jibbllies. It was horrible. Except the jibblies weren't brought on by a creepy cool painting of a goblin. It was a dead rat!

06 Jan '09-12:09
I Kick Puppies

Okay, I don't really, but the point is I really, really, really don't like dogs. They're hairy, smelly, loud and wipe their snot all over the place. Really, I have children who do that for me. And they are much cuter and more worth while. Don't like dogs, never have, never will.

Now that I've established that fact,

The Dog Problem:

My dad has a dog. He's been notorious for getting those through out my childhood and it always turns out rotten. For the past decade my dad had this dog. We called him Tuck. He wasn't our first dog, but he's the one I remember the most, of course. Yeah. I didn't like the poor mutt. My dad hoped I would. He wanted me to take the dog out running, for you see, I used to do things like that. Unfortunately the dog had the opposite effect. I would rather not run at all than take that stupid thing with me. Oh, I did for the first little while. I even made sure to go out and spend time training the thing every day. I guess I felt a duty to the creature. I still didn't like it. And neither did anyone else in my family, except my dad. Well, I didn't live at home forever. The dog became sadly neglected. And he became quite wild. He lived in my parents large back yard and completely over took the place. I rather resented that because it made the place completely annoying. Don't go in the back yard, you'll be attacked by a dog starving for attention! Stupid dog. It became a murderous joke between my husband and I. When we'd visit my parents and see the dog running loose in the street we'd say, "lets just run over the darn thing and put it out of its misery." But of course we would never do that because obviously that is very wrong on so many levels. And I'd also say, "If he was ever hit by a car, I'd be sad . . . for about 30 seconds." Seriously, we couldn't wait for that thing to die. Sad but true.

This summer I was having a conversation with my mom. She mentioned a puppy she was taking care of. A puppy? Oh, apparently my parents were puppy sitting for a friend of my dad's. And there was a cute little puppy. I was horrified. But I had comfort in knowing the dog belonged to someone else and would soon be out of my parents house. Or so I thought. Oh, it turns out they've been puppy sitting this dog for weeks. Where's the owner after all this time? Months went by. Why is that dog still around? Suspicious. Gee, my mom tells me it looks like the dog was staying. His name is Chance. I was mortified. Oh, and Tuck is dead. He had a serious an infection and had to be put down. That happened over a month ago. And truly, I was sad . . . for about 30 seconds. But more than that I was furious. There is another foul dog in my dad's back yard. Grrr. Now its time I voice my suspicions. Did my dad really have a friend who he was "puppy sitting" for, or was that just an excuse to get another dog with out actually saying "This is my new dog." I suppose its his dog and his back yard and he can do what he wants and I shouldn't complain, (or call him a liar) but I am irritated and I'm going to say it.

Fortunately mt husband doesn't like dogs either. But Ephraim sure does. He got a ridiculous Dalmatian Sing Along DVD from my aunt and its his new favorite. He calls it "doggie movie" and wants to watch it from sun up to sun down and beyond. He's crazy.