"Domesticated," my ass

Cows attack dog walker in field

Excerpt:
"Mr Poole said he managed to escape when his Golden Retriever, called Zak, fled, distracting the cows."

'Man's best friend'? More like 'Man's Jerky College Roommate!'

In case of Nature attack my best friend would jump into the fray and risk life and limb, not run away like a total coward, right Steve?!


Right?


Darn it.

I'm so mean, that even when I'm nice I'm mean.

Saturday evening I was watering the flowers and talking to a friend when a small fluffy dog slowly trudged past the house. First in one direction then in the other before unceremoniously flopping into the gutter. I got off the phone and approached the puffball. He was wearing a new collar with no tags and was obviously someone's beloved pet. We sat together for a few minutes (I didn't want him to wander into the road) when a neighbor emerged and inquired as to why I was sitting in the gutter with some strange dog. I explained and he ran inside and brought back his wife who thought she knew to whom the dog belonged. She gathered the dog up and carried him up the street. Having done my good deed for the day I got back to watering the plants.

A few minutes later she returned and announced that the dog was not theirs and set him down. He waddled out to the gutter and flopped down. I ran inside and brought back a leash and a bowl of water. He lapped up the water and proceeded to follow me around as I watered the various plants. I had now had this dog in my possession for a good 30 minutes.

I finished watering and put the hoses away, little dog in tow. Then I wasn't sure what to do. On one hand, his owner was probably driving around looking for him, but on the other hand, the animal shelter is closed Sunday and Monday and if I didn't get him there in a reasonable time the owners wouldn't be able to pick him up until Tuesday morning. I resolved to sit with him for one more half hour. It was a fluffy and companionable silence, there in the gutter.

People in the suburbs are different than Seattle people. Seattle people are very nice and would have smiled at us, but out in the suburbs as we would look hopefully at passing cars they would wave energetically. "Oh Frank," I imagine they said, "Look at that adorable little dog! Hello little dog!! Oh she's out with her dog; isn't that just sweet?"

Finally I decided that we were approaching closing time at the shelter and if he had a microchip, he could be home right away. I tied the pile of fur to the porch and ran in to get the phone.

Here is another example of why people in the suburbs are different. I called the police and explained the situation. The woman asked if it was a friendly dog. I said "Oh yes, he's a very friendly little puff-ball." And she explained that she would send a patrol car instead of animal control; this way the dog could go to the shelter and not the pound. Small dog, as I had taken to calling him, and I went back to out spot in the gutter and plopped down to wait for the police.

We had sat there less then 10 minutes when the dog's little ears twitched and he jumped to his feet. A small black sedan cruised around the corner and screeched to a stop. The driver hopped out and ran towards me, the little dog ran to him as I let him off the leash. He explained that he lived quite a ways away and had almost given up, believing that the little dog could not possibly have walked this far.

As he was loading small dog into the car a patrol car pulled up behind him and the officer stepped out. I explained the situation as he scribbled in his little notebook. After I had briefed him he said, "Well miss, that was very nice of you, but I'm still going to give that man a ticket."

Well, I tried.

Brown Butter Mizithra Dildos

Today when we returned home there were 4 guilty looking dogs, and torn up purple plastic bag everywhere. We couldn't figure out where they could have gotten purple plastic... until we found a large scrap, upon which was written Lover's Package. I read aloud "Lover's Package." Brad said, "Oh, that must have blown over the fence from The Old Spaghetti Factory. "

Now, I can either believe my uncle, or I can admit that my aunt and uncle have sex.

Those Italians are total perverts.

Midnight Movies

Last night I dreamt that Steve and I registered ourselves as high school students in order to write a high school expose. How Steve could pass for a high school kid with his beardy face, I do not know. We had the first day and Steve signed up for baseball (which should have tipped me off that it was a dream). Later Steve and I played basketball, and then rode a bus somewhere with a girl with purple eyes-shadow that knew what we were up to. We met with the principal, and went back down to the basketball court. As I was walking to my car, some high school kid invited me home to hang out and he had a tortoise eating fruit right off the carpet. From the outside his house was a fancy town-home, and inside it looked like the trailer we lived in when I was young. I spilled a gallon of milk and apologized to his mother. And we sat in the back of his truck while he told me the story of the town. It was so bright and sunny. Fake, yet amazingly real.

I also dreamt the night before. I dreamt that there was some kind of disaster and people were spread thin. My uncle, aunt, and cousins were with me. My younger cousin found some way to visit some other group of people somewhere distant. He said it was fascinating, so the next time I went instead. It was a group of people living in a mountain lodge. We were in the chapel and suddenly the rear wall opened up with blinding hot light and they scattered. I hid under the pew. They found me and a man who walked out of the light grabbed my arm and said “She’ll do.” The girl who befriended my cousin yelled “No.” I told her it was ok, and walked into the light with them. And can’t remember much after that, except that I was on the run with a huge golden retriever, the size of a Newfoundland; unfortunately I didn’t know where I was or how to get home. We were sleeping in drainage ditches, looking for some direction, until I got cold and snuck into an elderly man’s house. And he found us and was calling the police as we ran out into the storm. And then I woke up.

I wonder what is up with these crazy dreams lately. Dreams that I can remember so well are unusual for me.

On this date in 1803...

we totally ripped off Napoleon.

Thomas Jefferson signed the Louisiana Purchase garnering the US 828,000 square miles for just over 23 million dollars (including interest). This was very controversial at the time, but I think that we can now agree that it was worth the money-- especially to make the French further kick themselves in hindsight. (Perhaps all this hindsight kicking is why the French only work like 10 hours a week. Also this may explain mimes.) Though I say this was a good deal, I am not entirely certain of the monetary value of Oklahoma, but I guess it came in handy later.

This of course brings me to the Lewis & Clark Expedition. The LCE didn't actually come about because of the purchase, it was already planned (because Jefferson was a sneaky bastard); however Jefferson was eager to see what he got for his 15 million dollar debt. (Hey Kansas.)

Captain Meriwether Lewis was chosen by Jefferson to lead the expedition and he, in turn, chose William Clark to co-head the Corps of Discovery (as it was called). Being an American, Lewis decided to bring his dog, a Newfoundland named (and I am not making this up) Seaman. Being a Southerner, Clark brought York, a slave whom he had inherited from his father. Along the way they picked up a chick, Sacajawea.

Three years after the Expedition Lewis died of a gunshot wound to the chest in some sleazy bar, after threatening to jump off a bridge. Clark became an administrator of Indian Affairs and spent the majority of his post-Corps time subjugating the natives and played a roll in the Trail of Tears. After their return, York asked Clark to free him. Clark was ticked about York's cheek and rented him out to hard labor. York died of cholera whilst traveling to re-join Clark. Five years after the expedition Sacajawea died of "the putrid fever." Seaman never made it home.

Seaman and York share a statue at Quality Hill, in Kansas City, Missouri. Sacajawea has an elementary school in Richland, Washington named after her (go trailblazers!). Lewis' memorial is along the Natchez Trace Parkway which links Mississippi and Arkansas. Clark has a trout named after him.

And that is about as much as anyone needs to know about the Corps of Discovery.

I got nuthin.

Sorry about the silence. I've been pretty busy with family things.

Some deep thoughts:

1. I recieved a postcard from buddy and expert christmas tree carrier, Charles that shows a cat with its mouth full and has a long sentence in German. It says something about finding a bird according to a coworker. I have hung it in my cubical.
Hopefully it doesn't say anything about cocks.

2. Recent circumstances have dramatically increased my interest in dog ownership. However, in order to own a dog I need to live within 10 minutes of work (to take him out at mid-day) or I need to have a yard. Unfortunately, this means I would have to live in Lynnwood. Which would be fine, except that I would have to live in Lynnwood.
In order to stay in Seattle and have a yard, I would have to marry an old rich man and have him killed or make more money. However, if I make more money I am at work longer and now the dog is alone in the yard 12 hours a day.
Anyone know any rich old men with heart conditions?

3. Sting has released a lute music album. Dustin Diamond has released a porn video. Why is the world all fucked up?

4. This a bird eating a waffle.

Sheetzucacapoopoo

That's all I've go to say.

So, in a fit of uncharacteristic kindness I decided to wash the sheets of my current dogsitting client's bed. This way when they came back from Europe they would have a fresh clean bed.
Well, I threw a pillowcase in with a bunch of towels, ran the load and somehow managed to utterly destroy the pillow case. I have never destroyed something in someone else's house except a glass once and I felt VERY bad about the case.
So I dragged Cathi out on an emergency must find the pillowcase run.

Cathi and I arrive at Macy's and actually found the pillowcase immediately. Yay!

Unfortunately they come in sets of two. Boo!

Luckily for me they were on sale. Yay!

Unlucky for me they were on sale for a bargain 69$. Mother fucker.

Who owns 99$ pillowcases? I'll tell you who: Quincy's parents. Really though, I am just happy that I was able to replace them.

Sigh.

Super busy weekend

Last weekend I was so extremely busy.
Friday, Quincy and I had a playdate with my favorite dog-sitting client, Theo. Quincy had a great time romping about with Theo and using his skills of cuteness to beg tennis balls off of the sentimental fellows at the courts.















Saturday, Melody and I caught a Mariners game, then got a beer, then had dinner at Chutney's in Cap Hill, then had cocktails. The game was great, the food was great. Very similar to love.











Later in the evening Theo's parents and I went to see Bombay Dreams at the 5th Ave. Theater. The show was very cute. My favorite part of the show was a very inebriated fellow who would whoop and yell at innappropriate intervals. As time progressed he would yell exciting comments, such as "slut" and "get over it."
I was amazed that the staff didn't bounce him. He could barely walk down the steps.


















Sunday Jeni and I attended a Mariner's game as well. It was a great game, but I left there so full of pulled pork and shishkaberries that I had to waddle home.














Later that night I watched The Testament of Dr. Mabuse with my uncle.
Amazing. Just great. If you haven't seen this movie, shame on you. Fritz Lang's film making was amazing especially considering that he made the film in the 30's.

déjà vu

1. When I get home he jumps all over me and immediately wants dinner.

2. He doesn’t help me make his dinner, but follows me around getting in my way while I cook.

3. When he is done eating he immediately runs off to play, leaving me to do all the cleaning too.

4. When I am trying to tidy and get my evening work done he follows me around, slapping me in the ass, insisting that I stop doing what I am doing and focus on him.

5. When we watch TV together, he hogs the good seat and sits with one arm on the arm-rest and the other thrown over my shoulder or on my knee. His face is one inch from mine. He steals my snacks and sips of my drinks.

6. At night he hogs the bed, invades my space, farts, kicks me, and steals my pillow.

7. He follows me around with slavish devotion, always under foot, begging for attention.

8. He gets bored when I’m reading or knitting so he interrupts me to suggest alternate activities.

9. He bugs me when I’m in the bathroom

10. He is noisy, smelly, and smothering, but he sure is easy on the eyes.

I think I am dog-sitting the canine incarnate of my ex-boyfriends.