I keep losing my dog. Seriously. In a 14 by 18 foot room. I turn around, and she's just GONE. Then I find her hiding under my chair, or behind the sofa, or you know, in a TEACUP. My word, she's small.
My respect for all you mommy-bloggers out there has just increased by about 10 MILLION PERCENT. I'm serious. I am EXHAUSTED, and all I have is this 5 pound hairball with a tail. I went to bed 3 times between the hours of 3 a.m. and 1 p.m., and still only got 5 hours of sleep. (And even then, I dreamed that I was awake, taking care of her.) Every time we put her in her crate (which she LOVES to hang out in until we want her to go in there), she was all BARKBARKBARKBARK until I had to let her out of the crate so the neighbors wouldn't hate me and I wouldn't rip my own ears off my head in a freaked out spasm. I was BEGGING her to stop. "Please, Cassie, stop. I need to sleep. You have to sleep in your crate. Please stop. Please. Please. Please." And then I cried.
A dog roughly the size of a large meatloaf reduced me to tears last night and all this morning. And she's just a DOG. I cannot imagine a baby. Wait, no, I just don't WANT to imagine taking care of a baby. It would probably make me cry.
We think we managed to find a remedy for the bratty, controlling, don't-you-dare-close-my-cage-door-unless-I-say-so, puppy behavior. A squirt gun. She barks, I squirt her, she barks, I squirt her, she glares at me and then rips into the frog stuffed animal that keeps her company at night. We call it her anger frog. It's who she beats up when she's mad because she can't have her way. So far she's beat him up about 5 times in the last hour.
We had to go ALL OVER TOWN TO FIND A SQUIRT GUN. (Hello? It's summer. Don't kids play with squirt guns anymore?) We started at Meijer, then went to Target, and finally Wal-Mart. They had huge box of squirt guns that came packaged together for 4 dollars. 9 quirt guns for 4 dollars. Why, Wal-mart? Why? Why must you make things so cheap and fool me into liking you, you evil, life-force sucking empire? I felt a little bit like Anakin, going over to the dark side, as I walked through the automatic doors into that badly lit store that smelled like cat pee.
The dog has been here for 25 hours. I feel like I've aged 3 years. She barked all night, snores like locomotive (which is actually kind of cute...), farts a lot, and will only go to sleep if Miles Davis is playing or Sex & the City is on so far. I'm telling you. If she weren't so cute, I'd let the German Shepherd upstairs eat her.








I love in the last one, she's clearly got this look on her face that says, "You are obviously not understanding what a leash is for. It enables me to drag you from place to place. Now please stop trying to move me around with it." Also, she doesn't always look stoned. She's just stoned looking there because we made her take a few hits off our bong. (I am so kidding. We don't smoke pot and I wouldn't let the dog upstairs eat her. So please don't email me.)
This post is long, boring, and probably doesn't make a lot of sense. What can I say? I'm punch drunk from staying up all night with a barking meatloaf. Even my HAIR is tired.
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