The joy of dogs and repetition of life changes.
I think having a dog must be somewhat like what having a child is like. The majority of the time you're looking at your child and you know they're the coolest, most original, most smart, and most entertaining creature on this Earth. And then there's that small percentage of the time when you're debating ending their little life.
Like I was thinking re: Blue at 4:30 AM when he started barking and would stop for an hour at a time only after being squirted with the discipline water pistol. The dog lady we got him from used to get up insanely early and she said our little fuzz-muffin is going to probably take about a month to get in our groove. So pretty much all during our walk this morning he got commentary from me like "Look Blue, a barbecue! I wonder what a mini schnauzer would taste like after being shaved and basted in hickory sauce? Do you want to find out? Do you?! There's a boy, Buddy-Blue! There's a boy!"
I mean, Blue's adorable, cute and such a lovey-dog (now that he completed his 24 hours of being Satan's dog on Sunday), but honestly 4 AM is not my "good" time. There's a reason why the Lord has me sleep through that hour. But it was funny finally getting dressed for his walk and discovering he had flipped his crate (made out of heavy-duty tent material) and he was really confused on why all his towels were on his head. This little black dog with the international facial expression of "WTH?" buried in towels. That and he met a very overweight dauschund (meaning "the dog's stomach dragged on the ground and sometimes was longer than its little legs/we thought it was pregnant until the owner said 'his name is Fred'") last night when we took him out and Blue kept running around in circles around the poor thing and licking and sniffing it, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.
Told my parents and sister re: about my start back to college last night. There was the expected reaction from Sanya (but hey, at least she called - I was surprised) of basic apathy and my Dad was thrilled and tried to convince me to quit the job I like and work in a prison or as an admin secretary instead b/c it would pay more. ::rolls eyes:: I accepted the thrilled with glee (okay, so I like having my dad be excited for me, even if we've not had a good history) and gently reminded my dad again that I like being happy and having a soul more than two extra bucks an hour. Poverty sucks, but I have a firm testimony that there are worse things than being poor. Like hating your job and yourself for doing the job.
Okay, speaking of jobs I dislike, I gotta go back to mine. :) Two weeks from today is my last day here and freakin' mazel tov re: that!
And now
Like I was thinking re: Blue at 4:30 AM when he started barking and would stop for an hour at a time only after being squirted with the discipline water pistol. The dog lady we got him from used to get up insanely early and she said our little fuzz-muffin is going to probably take about a month to get in our groove. So pretty much all during our walk this morning he got commentary from me like "Look Blue, a barbecue! I wonder what a mini schnauzer would taste like after being shaved and basted in hickory sauce? Do you want to find out? Do you?! There's a boy, Buddy-Blue! There's a boy!"
I mean, Blue's adorable, cute and such a lovey-dog (now that he completed his 24 hours of being Satan's dog on Sunday), but honestly 4 AM is not my "good" time. There's a reason why the Lord has me sleep through that hour. But it was funny finally getting dressed for his walk and discovering he had flipped his crate (made out of heavy-duty tent material) and he was really confused on why all his towels were on his head. This little black dog with the international facial expression of "WTH?" buried in towels. That and he met a very overweight dauschund (meaning "the dog's stomach dragged on the ground and sometimes was longer than its little legs/we thought it was pregnant until the owner said 'his name is Fred'") last night when we took him out and Blue kept running around in circles around the poor thing and licking and sniffing it, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.
Told my parents and sister re: about my start back to college last night. There was the expected reaction from Sanya (but hey, at least she called - I was surprised) of basic apathy and my Dad was thrilled and tried to convince me to quit the job I like and work in a prison or as an admin secretary instead b/c it would pay more. ::rolls eyes:: I accepted the thrilled with glee (okay, so I like having my dad be excited for me, even if we've not had a good history) and gently reminded my dad again that I like being happy and having a soul more than two extra bucks an hour. Poverty sucks, but I have a firm testimony that there are worse things than being poor. Like hating your job and yourself for doing the job.
Okay, speaking of jobs I dislike, I gotta go back to mine. :) Two weeks from today is my last day here and freakin' mazel tov re: that!
And now