Bad Dog

I gotta tell ya that it was pretty darned nice to have a small little break from the demon dog over this past weekend.  Luckily, our neighbors are always more than willing to have him stay with them when we go out of town.  For some reason that I have yet to determine, they seem to absolutely love the big, furry bastard.  They’ve owned many an Airedale in their time, so I suppose they’re used to all the shit-eating trouble these dogs tend to find themselves in.  And the beast is happier than a stay-at-home-mom at happy hour when he gets to shack up with the neighbors, too.  Perhaps, then, that’s why he’s decided to raise all kinds of hell now that he’s been forced back onto his own home turf.

From the moment the pooch stepped through the door, he’s made it his mission in life to annoy the absolute crap out of me.  Seriously, I didn’t think it was possible for a dog to bark this freaking much.  A leaf blows on a tree, and he has a damn hissy fit.  A fly buzzes by the window, and he goes flippin’ apeshit.  Can you really blame me then for fantasizing about all the things I could do with a good roll of duct tape?

The barking is one thing, but the chewing is a whole other issue.  And he decided to really go for the gusto too.  The ball-less wonder has taken it upon himself to chew the ever-loving shit out of my favorite pair of Ugg slippers.  We’re talkin’ down to the inner makings of the sole kind of chewing.  He also tore into one of the hubby’s beloved Cubs hats, too.  I’m sure that will make for a really nice welcome home present for him later this week when he finally returns.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about marching the dog right on over to the neighbor’s front doorstep over the past couple of days.  He knows just how to get under your skin and make you want to trade him in for some firewood.  That is…until you see him all curled up like this:

And your cold steal heart can’t help but melt just a lil’ bit…..


Chew On This


     Trying to get my son to keep his hands or his clothing out of his mouth is like trying to keep a man from touching his johnson.  It’s a constant uphill battle that I don’t seem to be winning.  I’ve preached to him about a gazillion times about the risk of germs and getting sick, but, as the usual pattern goes around my house, my sermons always seem to fall on deaf ears.  I’m starting to feel like the Charlie Brown teacher.

     One of my biggest pet peeves with my kids is when they chew on their clothes, and my son is the absolute worst about this.  I swear, every time I look at the kid, he’s chewing on his shirt sleeves, his collar, his hat or his gloves.  I can’t even tell you how many of his shirts now have holes around the wrists from all of his nibbling, not to mention all of the ragged collars on his jackets.  It drives me flipping C-R-A-Z-Y!!!  He used to chew the flaps so much on his old hat that the damn thing had to be washed every other day to get the stank of old saliva out of it.  And now that he’s taking ice skating lessons, he’s discovered that he likes to gnaw on his gloves after he falls down to get the ice chunks off them.  He doesn’t seem to understand that the ice at the rink is not meant to be eaten.  I guess he thinks of it as his own personal slushy buffet.  

     Unfortunately, he doesn’t just stop at clothing either.  He also likes to put his fingers in his mouth too, even though he’s not really even chewing his nails or the surrounding skin.  Surprisingly, the boy’s got to-die-for nails that constantly have to be trimmed.  I cringe at the thought of what new virus he’s shoving in there with his hands.  I about died when my husband showed me the video he took of the kids sitting on Santa’s lap over this past weekend.  My son’s hand was thrust into his mouth throughout the whole two minute conversation with the man in red.  I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of a bigger breeding ground for germs than old St. Nick’s lap.  Just think of all the boogers that have been wiped on those fuzzy pants and all the sneeze showers that have been sprayed on that jacket.  I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the very conception point for the whole H1N1 phenomenon.

     This oral fixation has been such a concern of mine that my husband and I even talked to my son’s teacher about it at parent/teacher conferences last month.  She said it’s a very normal, very natural phase that a lot of kids, particularly boys, tend to go through.  She suggested allowing my son to chew gum at school to avoid the urge to put his hands or his clothing into his mouth.  My husband practically fell out of his little tiny first grade chair at the mere mention of this solution, since he was actually paddled for chewing gum in school back in the day.  The teacher assured us that our son will most certainly outgrow this phase in due time.  We’re hoping that time’s much sooner rather than later.

     Meanwhile, I have to just continue to play my broken record over and over again to remind him about the dangers of germs while he continues to ignore every freaking word that comes out of my mouth. It’s yet another one of my many daily tests in patience and sanity that I’m on the verge of failing miserably.  Isn’t parenting fun?!

The Goat

      Have you met my pet goat?  His name is Wrigley, and his middle name is Annihilator.  He likes to eat anything and everything he can get his teeth on, and trust me, NOTHING is off limits.  I’ve bought this little shit more chew toys than you would ever believe, yet he still seems to prefer all of the things which he’s NOT supposed to chew. You may have noticed in the above picture that even though he has two dog toys right within his reach, he is instead nibbling on a shoe. Yep, this has become the story of my life since this four-legged fool’s come into my world.  

     Everybody warns you when you get a new puppy that there will be lots and lots of munching and crunching going on.  You think you can handle it because you think it can’t possibly be all THAT bad.  And then you quickly find out how very very wrong you were.  This dog has ripped holes in multiple pairs of pants, countless socks, several of my daughter’s dresses, and the mother of all mothers — my warmest North Face coat.  This last act of destruction occurred yesterday when I was trying to let him run around the backyard in the snow.  He was so wound up that he jumped up, grabbed a part of my coat and did this:

You will notice that the down feathers are now coming out of my extremely essential Chicago winter weather gear.  You will also notice that this large rip just so happens to be located far from an actual seam, making it impossible to repair.  And did I mention that the windchill is -20 here today?  You can probably imagine how happy I am about this on a bitterly cold day like today.  

     The goat doesn’t just stop at clothing, either.  Oh, no — he also likes to chew rugs and the runner on our stairs.  He works and works until he gets one loose string and then he goes to town unraveling it. This is what he did to the rug by the back door:

Doesn’t it look beautiful?  Believe me, I’ve tried like hell to keep him from gnawing away at this freaking thing until I’m blue in the face. You would think that there’s gotta be some way to keep him from doing this, right? Well, I’ve been told by multiple people to try spraying Bitter Apple on the things he chews, so of course I went right out and bought some of this supposed cure-all solution.  And wouldn’t you know?  The damn dog actually likes the taste of this nasty ass stuff!  And I know for a fact that it tastes like absolute shit because I accidentally got some of it on my tongue when I sprayed it, and I about tossed my cookies.  

     By far the most amount of damaged inflicted by this little maniac has been on our poor poor kitchen chairs.  They are literally on their last leg from all the gnawing they’ve had to endure.  It has been damn near impossible to keep the dog away from them.  It’s like trying to keep flies off a pile of poo.  The worst one of the four victims now looks like this:

My daughter has snagged more than one pair of her tights on this wreck of a mess.  I have no doubt that pretty soon, we will find ourselves sitting right on the damn floor because our asses are going to fall straight through the seat one day when we least expect it. Maybe this is all part of the goat’s grand master plan so that he can have a better crack at our food.

     I’m pretty close to putting a friggin’ muzzle on the beast because little by little he’s destroying our entire house.  How on earth am I supposed to co-exist with a creature who doesn’t understand or appreciate the value of my Ugg slippers?  I swear we’re all gonna be naked with no furniture whatsoever if he keeps this up.  And best believe, if that does, in fact, happen, I’ll take my birthday suit-clad self and march him straight back to the mountain with all the other billy goats for a full refund.