Hero worship, the line forms here...

I have 2 huge dogs, a 7 yr old black lab ( mei) and a 5 yr old dalmatian (loki).

Admittingly Mei has an addiction to digging holes that rivals any crackheads need for a rush, and Loki is trouble by  many extreme neurotic syndromes and is randomly  willing to eat through a french door if I am in the shower and he can't see me.

However these magnificent yet flawed ( like us) beasts are my friends, my buds, my dawgs YO!

They will chase mail people, children and best of all,  the power meter dude.  An unfortunate side effect of such behavior resulted in them becoming pussified.  What I mean by that is, for over 1 1/2 years now these 2 giant hell hounds have become the equivalent of piddling little purse puppies.  They live inside.  It began when Loki was run over, nothing like a crushed pelvis and a couple surgeries to convince you to let the suffering dog sleep inside, but we can't be having favorites no no no, so in comes Mei, simply by proxy.

They are extremely handy.   The only exercise I get every day is sweeping the floors of the massive amount of hair they shed that leads to a mathematical conundrum that should have them running about completely nude ( as in hairless) which means clearly my dogs are exceptional, at growing hair.

There is also a possessed evil cat that dwells under my roof, but this is not about her or her evil ways.

For 2 weeks now there have been what can only described as a marauding GANG of  Thugs (stray cats)  living on my back and front porch.  Their tendency to accidentally think this is OK is in large part the fault of my husband and child feeding and spending time in the yard paying them undue attention.

This is a cause and effect situation..   The presence of these thug cats has turned my massive mans best friend BEAST dogs  into sniveling she wimps.  They want out, they can't go out back there's a cat on the deck OMG what do we do?  Sure we are 10x's the size of those furry things but OMG they make an awful hiss.  Ok lets go to the front, everyone's excited sliding on the wood floors hauling ass to the front door, fling it open and SATAN is sitting there with fangs, and  claws and a hunched back and making a noise that scares us.

Since I personally fall no less then 35% of the time I am standing up  I make it a habit not to bend over.    But I love my dogs, and by love my dogs I mean I want their hairy asses to shit outside.

I took a gamble picked up the cat who was preventing my dogs from access to the grass in my yard,  thus allowing them to freely run into the sunshine and pee and dig holes.

Short lived was our little utopia when my vicious attack beasts were quickly engaged in a war for the porch with the legion of felines.

I again had to get up I walked to the front door, fling it open and NOW  my dogs can not get in,  because SATAN is standing guard at my front door, they are in battle mode, attempting to defeat this foe but literally powerless to do anything other than bark at it, and quickly jump backwards.

It was clear to see by the look in their eyes that they felt absolutely horrible for not being able to help me.  In their eyes I was trapped, trapped in the house they couldn't get to thanks to what I can only assume in dog vision equates to a 300 foot  DRAGON.

Without even thinking I simply drop kicked the cat across the yard thus giving my strong manly beasts a hurdle free path to enter the castle.

I looked down and saw my dogs, frozen in time, staring at me in total disbelief.  I was a GOD.  They were completely freaked out that I, me, a mere mortal was able to defeat the SATAN beast so that they could again return to the comfort of laying on my leather couches in the air.

As if for only a moment,  my dogs could speak I am sure they would chant my name, just like the last couple minutes of the movie Rudy.

For I have that level of power.  You are welcome.

The Great Cork Debate

I am noticing the weather cool a bit ( thank the gods).  After spending months and months in a friggin sauna disguised as a southern state, the thought of living in my oven on broil to cool down became logical.

Now the weather is cooling, we usually have 2 weeks at fall and 2 weeks at spring where we can air out the joint and leave the windows open for some of the day.    Air out such a simple term really,  like what you would do with a sports uniform or that car you had in the 80's that you had to "air out" prior to going home in case your parents had to get in it for some reason.

But my house,  "air out" bring an entirely new level of stank.

I live with the Price ( my 9 yr old),  the Droid ( my DH)  3 dogs and 1 cat.  We have a very large house that I built back when the 21 year old princess and 19 year old #1 son lived here.
Even though I can't keep this massive domicile clean ( because I am a redhead and allergic to cleaning)  I am grateful for the extra rooms.
 They are for storage.  Gaseous fumes storage.  We need to change our last name to  Flatulation or something.

There are some rooms in my house that are designated Natural Gas quarantine rooms, if you accidentally need something from that room you have to sign a legal waiver from my Insurance Company saying you wont sue for nasal damage or PTSD.  Yes it's that bad.

But what is worse than the Droid, The Prince and yes the occasionally rose scented air freshener fart from me, there lies the WOMD.  Weapons of Mass Destruction.

The dogs.  Every winter I fear their asses with turn into a gas powered perpetuation device.  To make it all worse the older dogs lay with their butts facing the fire place.  WHAT???  Can you say test fate?

So this year while I am airing out the  Recepción a la casa muy grande de la iglesia. .   I wonder if I should just cork up their butts before we light the fireplace this year.

I am leaning towards the belief that the insurance would not pay on the claim that a 9 yr old black lab blew up the family room and was jettisoned like Spock from Enterprise out of the brick wall on the other side of the house .    Option 2 involves me those pine tree air fresheners off of their tails.    I think the cork is probably the better idea.

Until then I will wear my utility belt of  air cleaners, disinfectants, and fresheners.  Wearing a SARS mask because I am too cheep to get a friggin ventilator gas mask.

Good luck, may your day be drastically decreased in your suffrage in the land of Nasty Mc Fartbutt


xoxo
PEACH OUT