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…..


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.

Doggy Style


     If you’ve been following my blog, you are well aware of the furry little fiend in our house who likes to chew on just about everything in site, including body parts. We’ve spent a crap ton of money buying a bazillion different dog toys for him to chomp on, but it seems he is very particular about which ones really appeal to him.  After many hours of nibbling and gnawing, his top choices have become a stuffed polar bear named Betty and a rawhide type thing called a Bully Stick. 

     When we first brought him home from the breeder, he was not a big fan of his crate.  He’d whine and cry and raise all kinds of hell trying to persuade us to let him out of there.  I decided he might like to have a little snuggle buddy, so I asked my daughter if we could give him one of her thousands of stuffed animals.  She hemmed and hawed over this decision, but she eventually determined that she was willing to part with her big, white polar bear.  And so began the love story between Betty the bear and Wrigley the demon dog.  

     It took a while for Wrigley to really warm up to Betty.  At first, she just kinda served as a pillow for him to rest his head.  We’d glance over at his crate and find him nestled in there with his head propped right across Betty’s.  Little by little, they progressed into full-on spooning.  Betty must be one hell of a spooner too, cause any time I’d take her out to clean the crate, she wreaked of dog.  The cuddle fest continued like this until one day when Wrigley decided to drag Betty out for some open air action.

     It was around this time that Wrigley decided to make Betty his bitch. He’d take her in his mouth and run crazy wild circles around the family room, stopping only to shake the tar out of her. He’d throw her on the ground and stand on top of the poor thing as if to say, “Yeah, who’s your daddy?”  And then one day last weekend, Wrigley figured out how to hump. My husband thought it was the funniest thing ever and even took pictures of the two little lovebirds. He even tried to recreate the mood so that Wrigley could show off his newfound skill to me.  (I was not as impressed.) And I gotta say that Betty took it all like a freaking trooper too with her crunchy hair and filthy stank.  Unfortunately, though, the dog trainer nipped that in the bud.  She said to correct that behavior immediately or else deal with him going to town on anything with a leg in the near-distant future.  I think that my husband was secretly disappointed that the canine peep show had to be shut down.

     Wrigley’s other favorite chew toy is something called a Bully Stick, which looks like a long,brownish-colored rawhide bone.  He loves chewing the crap out of this thing, so I ended up buying him another one.  We had these sticks lying around our floor for an entire week before I learned what they are actually made of.  Turns out they are dried bull’s penises!  I kid you not!  I may have thrown up a little in my mouth when I learned that I had been stepping over cow peckers all week.  So now, it has become a big joke around here.  The kids will tell Wrigley, “Here, chew on your peeper, Wrigley.”  And when he starts to bite us, my husband and I will tell him, “Go find your dick, Wrigley.”

     So, it seems that Wrigley is in his experimental phase.  On the one hand, he likes to get down and dirty with Betty, and on the other, he likes to nosh away on cattle dongs.  I feel like we have a PG-13 puppy in our midst, and we need to start shielding our innocent little audience member’s eyes.  Otherwise, we may have to explain the old birds and the bees much earlier than we thought.


jdin348l     I cannot get it out of my head.  I think about it ALL the time, and I surf the net looking for it.  I want it so badly that it’s completely consumed me. Just the idea of it makes me tingly all over.  Oh, come on now — get your mind out of the gutter, you perverts!  I’m talking about getting a puppy! Yes, we are, in fact, about to bite the bullet and finally bring a dog into the Nucking Futs family.

     We always knew we’d get a family dog someday, because my husband and I both are HUGE dog lovers.  Plus, my daughter’s been bugging us to get a dog from the moment she learned to talk.  We have waited, though, until what we thought was just the right time, and now seems to be that time. With the kids getting ready to finally start a full day of school (versus that ridiculously short two and a half hours of kindergarten), I am starting to get really sad about the house being empty during the day.  I thought I’d be turning cartwheels and doing the happy dance once I finally got a whole day to myself.  But, as it turns out, I think I’m gonna be a little lonely without them.  I’m starting to think that having a furry little four-legged creature around during the day might be just what I need.  So, we are ready to take the plunge.

     Ever since we started talking about the prospect of actually getting a dog, I can’t help but be obsessed with them.  It’s like when you get a new car, and you’re constantly checking out every single car that passes you on the road. I find myself gawking over every dog in the neighborhood lately, trying to see what breeds seem to be good with kids and which ones seem to be a total pain in the ass.  (I most certainly don’t want one of those yippy yappy kinds that stand in the backyard and bark all night long.  You know who you are, you little suckers — you often prevent me from sleeping with the window open, thank you very much!)  I’ve also been googling the hell out of different breeds and asking Facebook friends for advice.  (By the way, asking friends about types of dogs is like asking them which baby name you should go with — it’s like opening a can of worms, and suddenly, everyone is a dog expert.)  After all the obsessing and relentless researching, I think we’ve finally found our puppy.  

     We will be bringing home the little dude mid-September, which is perfect timing with the start of school.  That will give us just the right amount of time to get back into a routine and prepare for our new family member.  The only drawback to this whole master plan, however, is that my son, for whatever reason, is not real crazy about dogs.  He really could do without them altogether, so I’m hoping that helping to raise his own puppy will help in that department.

     So, now, the countdown to dog day afternoon is on!  I’m not sure how I’m going to get my daughter to contain herself in the meantime, because she asks me every single day if today is the day we’re getting the dog.  In six and half weeks, I’ll finally be able to say yes, it is!