FoodLady Chronicles – The Fauna is Trying to Make Me Insaner edition: Dear ALL OF THE CRITTERS, today is not the day and now is not the time.
Dear Creepy Aliens (aka horned tobacco worms) who are trying to devour my tomatoes, I HATE YOU because 1. you are eating my garden and 2. every time I see one of you I screech like a frightened toddler and that does not mesh well with my rough & tough façade and the screech causes the boyfriend to double over in laughter and I’m worried he will either urinate himself or I will have to kill him; and both of those things are hard to come back from. So, my creepy alien enemies-I have begun your destruction with wondrous pesticides. So, there.
Dear Gertrude, please come home. I know you’re extremely annoyed about the puppy that is here in the Puppy-Protection-Program but I am getting anxious and I miss your murderous staring.
Dear Teak (aka Doodle), I know you hate the Sam-puppy, but he is not going to be here forever and just stop being a growling ass ALL of the time, kay? Speaking of ass-ular behavior I would like for you to stop–yes, we put the screen door back up in what used to be your doggie door, but the front door remains open for your elimination needs. Please stop standing at the screen door barking your head off at 2AM. I’m stumped as to whether you are doing it to be a jerk or if because you are going further into dementia? You do not appear to have issues using the front door the rest of the time…
Dear Brindles (Herbert & Sam) the front fencing has now been reinforced with rebar, concrete blocks, and in one particularly escape-prone area, scrap lumber AND rebar! You should not be able to let yourselves out any longer, damn it. Herbert – it’s damn creepy to watch you (a dog) systematically search for weaknesses in the fencing section by section, please, at least pretend to be a normal dog some of the time. Lastly, the roof of the car IS NOT a playpen and IS NOT the best place to wrassle each other. Also, Herbert, IF, despite my wishes, you and Sam are going to wrassle on top of the car, at least let me get a picture of both of you up there instead of you immediately jumping off and leaving Sam on top of the car looking mildly confused and extra derpy (see photo).
Dear Life, you remain the Only-Good-Dog, please explain to the others how that works.
Love,
FoodLady.
Dear Creepy Aliens (aka horned tobacco worms) who are trying to devour my tomatoes, I HATE YOU because 1. you are eating my garden and 2. every time I see one of you I screech like a frightened toddler and that does not mesh well with my rough & tough façade and the screech causes the boyfriend to double over in laughter and I’m worried he will either urinate himself or I will have to kill him; and both of those things are hard to come back from. So, my creepy alien enemies-I have begun your destruction with wondrous pesticides. So, there.
Dear Gertrude, please come home. I know you’re extremely annoyed about the puppy that is here in the Puppy-Protection-Program but I am getting anxious and I miss your murderous staring.
Dear Teak (aka Doodle), I know you hate the Sam-puppy, but he is not going to be here forever and just stop being a growling ass ALL of the time, kay? Speaking of ass-ular behavior I would like for you to stop–yes, we put the screen door back up in what used to be your doggie door, but the front door remains open for your elimination needs. Please stop standing at the screen door barking your head off at 2AM. I’m stumped as to whether you are doing it to be a jerk or if because you are going further into dementia? You do not appear to have issues using the front door the rest of the time…
Dear Brindles (Herbert & Sam) the front fencing has now been reinforced with rebar, concrete blocks, and in one particularly escape-prone area, scrap lumber AND rebar! You should not be able to let yourselves out any longer, damn it. Herbert – it’s damn creepy to watch you (a dog) systematically search for weaknesses in the fencing section by section, please, at least pretend to be a normal dog some of the time. Lastly, the roof of the car IS NOT a playpen and IS NOT the best place to wrassle each other. Also, Herbert, IF, despite my wishes, you and Sam are going to wrassle on top of the car, at least let me get a picture of both of you up there instead of you immediately jumping off and leaving Sam on top of the car looking mildly confused and extra derpy (see photo).
Dear Life, you remain the Only-Good-Dog, please explain to the others how that works.
Love,
FoodLady.
Food Lady Chronicles 