Tuesday, February 7, 2006

Pink Furry Flounder

Oh goody. It’s not Monday anymore.

Now its Tuesday, which differs from Monday in that it is the second day of the week, or the third, depending if you are of the school that counts Sunday as the first day of the week instead of the more correct last day of the week – if you are going with “first” day – that means you have bad math and need to seek remedial tutoring in the days of the week. I can’t help you, I’m busy.

My big project for Monday evening was to both bath Dogger and stay awake through CSI Miami. It’s a challenge. I would have forgone bathing Dogger so to make it easier to stay awake for CSI Miami but the office has developed somewhat of a haze and I don’t think it is because of my smokin’ hot wardrobe choices. Dogger and everything she touched needed to be laundered. Bed included.

Thus far Dogger has not eaten much of her new bed. She has limited herself to nibbling on a few swatches of fabric and to moving the bed away from the way. She knows enough to feel very, very bad about both of those things. I know she had started to snack on her bed when I came home the other day and she would not get off her bed. She just lay there looking very flat and following me with her eyes. Hall and Oates did not write “Lying Eyes” about a dog. Dogs eyes are literal the windows to their little doggy souls and they are very clean windows with no dog nose prints on them. You can see right through them and they can not lie to you.

I walked into the room the other day and said

Me – Dogger! Wanna go for a walk? Why is your bed in the middle of the room?
Dogger –I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here
Me – What did you do?

looking around to see if anything looked destroyed

Dogger – Don’t see me, Don’t see me, Don’t see me
Me – What did you do!
Dogger – Nothing to see here!. (Now lying on the bed doing her best impression of a flounder)
Me – Did you eat something? How did you move your bed? I have a hard time moving your bed and I have thumbs.

The curtains seemed to be unmolested and the same condition as they had been when I left in the morning, the computer looked okay, the VCR cables were unchewed, the wood work looked wretched, but it has looked wretched since I painted the room over a year ago and decided it was just too much work to tackle the wood work at that time (lazy, lazy, lazy!) and so I would “do it later”. It has been later for a very long time and the woodwork still looks like ass. I could not find what she knew she should not have done. Dogger all this time while I was mentally flogging myself over the state of the woodwork was making herself flatter, and flatter and flatter. She was doing her damndist to merge her large orange self into pink bedding.

She never took her eyes off me.

Me – Did you eat your bed?
Dogger – Blink, Blink.
Me – You aren’t invisible you know.
Dogger –See how pretty my eyes are? Have you ever seen such pretty brown eyes?
Me – You look guilty. What did you do? Get Off the damn bed!
Dogger – I love my bed. I want to live here. I want to be my bed.
Me - What is that? WHAT DID YOU DO!!!

“That” was a scarp of fabric that had been very carefully shorn from the bed and left on the floor, damp and chewed on.

Dogger – I’m the worst dog in the entire world! I suck! Kill me now!
Me – Gawd Damn It!
Dogger – Just don’t yell at me or try to discipline me in any way!
Me – You can’t have nice things!
Dogger – I know!
Me _ If your doggy brain is allegedly too small for you to remember what you did three minutes ago, how is it that you are feeling guilt over something you did hours ago?
Me – Oh! You’re mad now! Loud noises now! I hate it when we fight! Let’s go for a walk!


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