Attacked by a Monster
River, our 21 month old labrador retriever whom we wryly call "Monster", apparently found my stash of chocolate-covered espresso beans, because
a.) I just went to pack them for my exam tomorrow and Saturday and can't find them, and
b.) she desperately needs to go out every few minutes, and
c.) she is bouncing off the walls. This is a literal thing, where she slams into parts of our house with 70 pounds of mass under acceleration. I keep hearing things go *crash*.
So she is under-cutting my studying three ways: depriving me of my drug of choice, making me take her out, and making me spend time cleaning up after her.
That icon is of her as a puppy. A sleeping puppy. A cute, loving, happy puppy who played with small things and couldn't reach boxes of chocolate shoved to the back of the counter.
I sort of love her, but, man is she hard. She's hard the way it's hard to have a four year old. It's just a constant thing. Yeah, she can walk without being carried and spoon her own dinner into her mouth, but she needs me ALL THE TIME. With Small Boy being a voice-changing teenager, and me trying employment outside the house, it's just HARD to be back in the stage where I have a four year old. It worked for a while. But I'm pretty sure River is going to be our last dog. (One way or another. It's not impossible that she'll kill us.)
a.) I just went to pack them for my exam tomorrow and Saturday and can't find them, and
b.) she desperately needs to go out every few minutes, and
c.) she is bouncing off the walls. This is a literal thing, where she slams into parts of our house with 70 pounds of mass under acceleration. I keep hearing things go *crash*.
So she is under-cutting my studying three ways: depriving me of my drug of choice, making me take her out, and making me spend time cleaning up after her.
That icon is of her as a puppy. A sleeping puppy. A cute, loving, happy puppy who played with small things and couldn't reach boxes of chocolate shoved to the back of the counter.
I sort of love her, but, man is she hard. She's hard the way it's hard to have a four year old. It's just a constant thing. Yeah, she can walk without being carried and spoon her own dinner into her mouth, but she needs me ALL THE TIME. With Small Boy being a voice-changing teenager, and me trying employment outside the house, it's just HARD to be back in the stage where I have a four year old. It worked for a while. But I'm pretty sure River is going to be our last dog. (One way or another. It's not impossible that she'll kill us.)