Two years ago today I lost my soul-dog, my diabetic alert dog Herbert. He was not perfect, but he was perfect for me. I still miss him, but it no longer hurts every day and I can finally look at photos of him and remember happy times with laughter and smiles instead of soul-crushing despair – huge progress for me. My blood sugar control has not been better without him as he really made a positive difference in my health; but I’m working on it.
I still miss him so much; but I’m going to be okay.
Nothing quite like a 90lb Humphrey-dog running inside after completing his morning constitutional and dropping his booty on the ground and scooting. Ah, the booty scoot. Is it a recalcitrant turd? parasites? a piece of grass or string? The canid can be a stunningly strong and regal creature, however ain’t none of that happening during a scoot. It just looks embarrassing and awkward to do, hell it feels embarrassing and awkward just to see it.
Poor Humphalumph, he has an irritated booty-hole. So, I spent my morning cleaning his
asshole affected area with baby wipes and then treated it with a 2% chlorhexidine ointment…..which is bright blue.
So now poor Humphrey looks like he ate too many Smurfs and is having issues digesting them.
FoodLady Chronicles – Dear all mah doggies edition:
Dear Dobby, you are annoyingly confident at home. Yes, annoyingly. Yet, the real world causes you great trepidation. Could you pretty please add both sides of your personality and divide by two? Also, continue being adorable – it has kept me from killing you.
Dear Humphrey, duuuuuuude. You have turned into like 89% of a great dog. I LOVE how much you LOVE people and how you get all serene and happy when a baby is pulling on your ears and face; seriously, all of that is wonderful. Less wonderful is that you have now decided that the generator noise is super scary and now, after well over a month of intermittent generator use, you refuse to go outside to the poopin’ yard to, well, “go” if one is running. Instead, you leave toilet clogging (literally) presents directly in front of the OPEN door often with an adjacent liquid surprise. I will continue taking you out separately until fence is built, because…..love.
Dear SamSam, please continue being awesome. You have just turned 5 and have entered the glorious age of no-longer-an-asshole. You deserve all the belly rubs and tennis balls.
Dear Ziesa, you are the baby. I know other people see a big strong dog, but to me you just look like a itty bitty wittle princess. I truly believe you are the soul of a teacup purse dog trapped in a 60lb boxerbull body. Continue being adorable and weird.
FoodLady Chronicles – Dammit Dobby Edition:
I gave him a plastic toy which he was gleefully destroying while I wrote work emails. I could hear the happy chewy plastic noises, it didn’t even occur to me he had moved onto the next item. My item. My Bluetooth ear buds that I use to listen to audiobooks while I fall asleep, or as I call them: my nubbins.
Rest In Peace right nubbin and most of charging case, you were loved.
*in tune of “off to see the wizard” begins singing*, “🎶…we’re off to kill the Dobby, the disastrous Dobby of doom…🎶”
[Unlike beloved electronics, no actual Dobby’s were killed or maimed due to, or because of, any topics discussed in this post and any wounding, death, and/or maiming which occur following this post is to be considered completely coincidental and accidental.]
Okay, so…Monday was a mourning dove (pigeon) and Wednesday was a starling (I think?). Why. Are. Birds. Coming. Into. My. House?! Note: no animals were harmed during these bird intrusion and release events. Although my beloved idiot dogs now keep wandering around staring at the ceiling hoping against hope that another bird will begin flapping excitedly.
Dude. I understand that it’s raining and that your 100lb butt is truly a delicate flower whose main skill appears to be slurping humans when we least expect it, but did you have to poop right in front of the open door? Also, what possible canine joy could have come from managing to land that chihuahua-sized log perfectly centered on the extension cord?
I think I might hate you.
FoodLady Chronicles – nope/no/nuh-uh edition.
I hear you. Please leave.
Just trying to do some work emails here. I do not have time for this.
Dear pigeon/mourning dove, only death for you lives here. This is not your place. Please fly right back out that door.
*walking into bedroom*
Goddammit, get off my bed.
Why. Why is this happening?
*chases it outside*
Edited to Update: stupid bird came back.
I had chased it outside earlier, but apparently it decided to embrace it’s inner jerk and come back? This time we did a capture & release.
Dear MouseRat, you are an Asshole.
No, seriously….you are.
You are *not* a lizard or a bird, you have a sphincter and therefore I know that MouseRat turd left in the middle. of. my. bed. was an act of war. Just one turd. Dead center. Asshole.
I will find you and I will kill you.
Unless you want to go live outside and never come back in, in which case… bygones.
But, other than that, death to you and any of your comrades!!!
Dear SamSam, Dobby, Hump
I am aware you were left alone for 15 hours yesterday. I am thrilled you survived. It must have been HORRIBLE to nap and snack at your leisure.
I understand you all need attention, but working as a team and sitting on top of me to get me moving felt a little excessive. A special jerk shoutout goes to Dobby who decided to sit ON MY HAIR (owie!) with an additional opportunist award going to Piper who licked my face while my hair was pinned (ewww!) (I came up swingin!).
I managed to get one adorable picture of the happiest SamSam who declared it needed to be Fetchin’ Time! by solidly squashing me.
Good morning world, the dogs are FEISTY!
Unknown dog vomited on rug.
Cut that part off of rug and threw it away.