morning pages, interrupted 'til the afternoon
My dreams lately are a collaboration between Tim Burton, George Romero, and Sergio Leone--not restful. I wake up exhausted and, for some crazy reason, starving.
*Yawns*
Spring is springing, if not actually sprung. I was driving home from somewhere and noticing all the skunks and groundhogs. I think the groundhogs were sending me a telepathic message: You stupidniks can drag us out of our dens and look at our shadows all you want. What, you don't cast shadows of your own? But if you really want us to tell you when spring is coming, ask yourself, 'Do I see any groundhogs?' If the answer is no, then we're telling you. It's not spring.
So far I've spotted Bat Girl Squirrel, doves, robins galore, and so many crows I started looking to see if Chris Redfield might be hanging around. I also saw a hawk, probably not Cooper. It made me wonder, would Cooper try to eat Kelly? Only for a minute did I worry, because I decided, only if he was nuts.
Kelly is such a little dollbaby, hence her name...but she is also a little psycho, in a Lethal Weapon sort of way.
Yesterday I couldn't get anyone to walk the dogs with me, so I decided I would try it on my own. Sure Cobie's a double handful of PULL, but Kelly's only ten pounds. So off we go. For one house length, wherupon Kelly decides to take a nice gruesome dump in the devil strip. When I squat to clean it up, Cobie yanks and over I go. While I'm trying to get up without any of my parts going into kellypoo, she pulls halfway out of her harness and--somehow--gets it twisted.
I bring them both home, dispose of poo, fix harness, releash, and start off again. This time we make it to the end of the block when a dustmop dog (a quarter Cobie's size, maybe twice Kelly's) comes flying out of an open garage, all teeth and snarl and yap. Cobie charges to the end of his leash and does the playbow.
Yeah, he's a little clueless, but not entirely because right about the time the other dog leaps snapping into his face, he changes hisi mind about this whole play thing and decides to seek shelter behind me, wrapping his leash around my knees in the process.
Kelly immediately darts back there as well, apparently for a huddle; Dustmop followed her. Mistake. Kelly comes flying back around, tying me up in the opposite direction as she goes, and she commences to kick ass and take names. Dustmop is taken aback. His owner has finally arrived on the scene, and so he charges around me to escape her. Cobie, perhaps inspired by Kelly, goes, OH! Is this a FIGHTGAME? And dives into the fray, nearly yanking my legs out from under me.
Mind you, Cobie's idea of a fight is to snarl like hell's fiend (which is actually his play growl) and skin his mushy boxer lips back to display his seven inch teeth. He flails around trying to hit the other dog with those teeth, a plan that might have worked if Dustmop hadn't had an OH-FUH moment and abruptly decided now was a good time to de-ass the area. I can't imagine why. Dustmop wanted his mommy...a mommy whose expression had abruptly changed from one of indulgent amusement to one of utter fear as her dog leapt into her arms.
That expression really kinda made everything worth it, actually. If thinking so makes me evil...hell, I can live with that.
And then Dustmop's mom started apologizing profusely. To Cobie. "Thank you for not biting me, Big Doggie."
"It's okay," I said, because really it was, and started extricating my legs. Kelly helped by zooming around to untie me and all I had to do was pirouette until Cobie's leash loosened enough for me to step out of it. "Nobody got hurt, right? We'll just...cross the street and head back."
I felt kinda bad because all I did was stand there through the whole thing. I couldn't even get hold of them, or haul on their leashes, because of the way they had maypoled me. The best I managed was not to fall into a dogfight that Cobie considered a happyswellfuntime romp and Kelly considered, well...I think she considered it something of a pub brawl, really. She wasn't playing, but she was having a blast, and obviously considered Dustmop a whimpy cat turd for bailing just when she had a real shot at winning.
So this is the story of how it took me twenty minutes to walk two blocks with two dogs, turn around, and come back.
My life. It even makes me roll my eyes.
-30-
*Yawns*
Spring is springing, if not actually sprung. I was driving home from somewhere and noticing all the skunks and groundhogs. I think the groundhogs were sending me a telepathic message: You stupidniks can drag us out of our dens and look at our shadows all you want. What, you don't cast shadows of your own? But if you really want us to tell you when spring is coming, ask yourself, 'Do I see any groundhogs?' If the answer is no, then we're telling you. It's not spring.
So far I've spotted Bat Girl Squirrel, doves, robins galore, and so many crows I started looking to see if Chris Redfield might be hanging around. I also saw a hawk, probably not Cooper. It made me wonder, would Cooper try to eat Kelly? Only for a minute did I worry, because I decided, only if he was nuts.
Kelly is such a little dollbaby, hence her name...but she is also a little psycho, in a Lethal Weapon sort of way.
Yesterday I couldn't get anyone to walk the dogs with me, so I decided I would try it on my own. Sure Cobie's a double handful of PULL, but Kelly's only ten pounds. So off we go. For one house length, wherupon Kelly decides to take a nice gruesome dump in the devil strip. When I squat to clean it up, Cobie yanks and over I go. While I'm trying to get up without any of my parts going into kellypoo, she pulls halfway out of her harness and--somehow--gets it twisted.
I bring them both home, dispose of poo, fix harness, releash, and start off again. This time we make it to the end of the block when a dustmop dog (a quarter Cobie's size, maybe twice Kelly's) comes flying out of an open garage, all teeth and snarl and yap. Cobie charges to the end of his leash and does the playbow.
Yeah, he's a little clueless, but not entirely because right about the time the other dog leaps snapping into his face, he changes hisi mind about this whole play thing and decides to seek shelter behind me, wrapping his leash around my knees in the process.
Kelly immediately darts back there as well, apparently for a huddle; Dustmop followed her. Mistake. Kelly comes flying back around, tying me up in the opposite direction as she goes, and she commences to kick ass and take names. Dustmop is taken aback. His owner has finally arrived on the scene, and so he charges around me to escape her. Cobie, perhaps inspired by Kelly, goes, OH! Is this a FIGHTGAME? And dives into the fray, nearly yanking my legs out from under me.
Mind you, Cobie's idea of a fight is to snarl like hell's fiend (which is actually his play growl) and skin his mushy boxer lips back to display his seven inch teeth. He flails around trying to hit the other dog with those teeth, a plan that might have worked if Dustmop hadn't had an OH-FUH moment and abruptly decided now was a good time to de-ass the area. I can't imagine why. Dustmop wanted his mommy...a mommy whose expression had abruptly changed from one of indulgent amusement to one of utter fear as her dog leapt into her arms.
That expression really kinda made everything worth it, actually. If thinking so makes me evil...hell, I can live with that.
And then Dustmop's mom started apologizing profusely. To Cobie. "Thank you for not biting me, Big Doggie."
"It's okay," I said, because really it was, and started extricating my legs. Kelly helped by zooming around to untie me and all I had to do was pirouette until Cobie's leash loosened enough for me to step out of it. "Nobody got hurt, right? We'll just...cross the street and head back."
I felt kinda bad because all I did was stand there through the whole thing. I couldn't even get hold of them, or haul on their leashes, because of the way they had maypoled me. The best I managed was not to fall into a dogfight that Cobie considered a happyswellfuntime romp and Kelly considered, well...I think she considered it something of a pub brawl, really. She wasn't playing, but she was having a blast, and obviously considered Dustmop a whimpy cat turd for bailing just when she had a real shot at winning.
So this is the story of how it took me twenty minutes to walk two blocks with two dogs, turn around, and come back.
My life. It even makes me roll my eyes.
-30-