OMG

Last night I took Rex to Petco to get his nails clipped, something I've done at least a hundred times in the 3 years we've had the mutt. They cut his nails and all I have to do is stand there and tell him he's a good boy and pay them 10 bucks. Totally worth it. So I take him, and the groomer's got this little Yorkie looking thing on the table. She tells me, no problem just give her 5 minutes or so. No problem, I say, we'll go walk around the store and come back. We walk out to the store, past a new display of collars and leashes, and Rex pulled me to a stop. To sniff I presume. I look down, and like an out of body experience, he lifts he leg as high as he can, and pees on a pillar in the center of the store. I looked around, thinking, this couldn't have just happened. There's no way Rex could have done this. Then the annoying cashier girl yells to me from 1oo feet away "There's paper towel and cleaner over there on the left." I can't believe he did that, I said. They all do, annoying cashier girl yelled. Not my dog! Not my Rex! Now, Penny, Penny does shit like that. Penny I would expect it from. But Rex? Not Rex. I was mortified to say the very least. I still am. And I just said to him, "Remember last night when you peed at Petco?" I swear he smirked at me. He's acting out. Its a cry for attention. He's learning bad habits from Penny. That must be it. Her devious ways are rubbing off on him. Cause Rex just would never do something like that.

Trash Burgler

So we've got this guy in our neighborhood who goes through everyone's trash on garbage night. We call him the Trash Burgler. Its like the Hamburgler, but way less cool.

I think it was during the summer that we first realized this. First, our friend's iPod was stolen out of her car. Then, Rex would start barking~ no~ howling in the middle of the night out of the big window. We would get up and look, and there he would be. Sometimes driving his car and stopping at every garbage can, sometimes walking with a flashlight. Initally we were more annoyed that our dog was waking us up at midnight or one am. So when we realized that he was only going through the recycle bin, we kept it up by the house and brought it down in the morning. Gordo actually called the police to inquire, because he was going through our stuff, and they said that once the garbage is at the curb, it isn't really ours anymore. I felt kind of bad for the guy, I mean, who goes through people's garbage? And I figured, we threw it away, we obviously didn't want it. So up by the house the recycle bin stayed, and we didn't hear from the Trash Burgler (or Rex) again.

Until last night. Having Penny means that we are getting up at all hours of the night to take her outside so that we don't have accidents in the house. At midnight I took her out to pee. And there he was. Flashlight in hand, pajamas on legs he went house to house. And then I saw it. He went to a house diagnol from ours that didn't have their garbage can at the end of the driveway. He walked straight up their driveway to where the garbage can was~ leaning against their house. Wow, that's balls, I thought. Penny peed and I went back inside. I yelled to Gordo that our friend had returned and he came to look out the window. Rex caught sight of him and started in with the howl. Rex alerted Penny and she began to bark and howl. Did this stop the Trash Burgler? No, of course not. We lost sight of him for a minute, but then we saw the bounce of the flashlight. Again, we saw him in a driveway, right at someone's house. OMG, my friends, OMG. All these months that we've had our recycle bin by our front door; was he walking right up to it? I mean, has he no shame? Is nothing sacred? Not even our garbage?

I'm trying to understand the Trash Burgler, put myself in his shoes. He's a forty-something guy who lives with his parents. Lives with his parents three houses away from us. I want to understand him and feel for him, but I just feel kind of weirded out.

At one thirty when we finally went back to sleep, I may have told Gordo that if I ever get to the point where I am going through people's garbage, to shoot me in the foot so that I can't.

Infuriating

Yesterday my day started by filling a DCF report, my first ever in seven years. By the end of the day I had gotten my period. Want to take a stab at the wonderfulness that happened in between?

I am so infuriated with people who are parents, but do not *parent*. On the news the other night, we saw a report about a woman who went to the tanning salon and left her two kids, 3 years old and eleven months old, in the car while she tanned. It is seriously about 15 degrees outside. I wouldn't even leave my dogs in the car for that long. People who leave their kids at home to fend for themselves while they go out and do who knows what. We had a family of kids here at school years ago who were living in their apartment, on their own, for who knows how long, living off of ketchup packets.

I don't get it. So many people in this world who want to be parents so badly. To love that child, and raise that child, and care for that child, and be there for that child. But can't. And then there are these people, who have children and don't give a rat's ass about them. People who are so self-absorbed that they could never dream of loving someone else and put someone else's priorities in front of their own. It just doesn't make sense to me. None of it makes sense to me.

We need to move, pronto.

So I was out in the backyard playing ball with Dog 1 and Dog 2. Penny, who has the attention span of, say, a mosquito, quickly lost interest in the numerous balls cluttering our backyard, and decided to start barking like a loon at the two foofy white dogs that live in the house behind us. The two foofy white dogs began to bark back, the three of them proceeded to have, what I'm sure was a really nice, albeit loud conversation.

I noticed a girl come outside with the two foofies, chasing them around the in-ground pool and yelling their names. I wondered how old this girl was. From her clothes and hair, she looked about the age of one of my students. 15 or 16, I thought, hahaha.

When Penny's barking got excessive, and even Rex was looking at me like "shut her up already". I went over to the fence to grab Penny, and I thought, geez that girl looks really familiar. But my eyes are not the greatest and I've never even met the people who live in that house. Then, just as I was about to pick up Penny, I hear, clear as day "Hi, Mrs. !! " Oh No! My heart sank. Shit.

"I thought you looked familiar", I said. Still thinking, WTF!!! "Do you live here?", I said. "No, my aunt and uncle do." WTF!!! Not only is one of my fourth graders spending vacation in Newington, she's spending it in my backyard!! Crap.

Then this morning, as it snowed, I was back in the yard with Dog 1 and Dog 2. And just as before I hear, "Hi Ms.!!" Is she watching me from the window? Is anything sacred for the rest of the week? I guess I'd better think twice about taking the dogs out while still in my pj's. Crap.

Kicker is, that house just sold about a year ago for 400 something thousand dollars. Which means, my fourth grader lives in ghettoville, while her mother or father's brother or sister live in an almost half million dollar house. Really? Spread the wealth people, and get her out of my backyard while you're at it.

Tick tick go away

I love dogs, but ones thing that scares the bejezus out of me is scary dogs. Dogs that snarl. Dogs that growl.

Rex is a dog that doesn't like to be fussed with. He likes his space. I am a person who needs space, so I am understanding of this. When Rex isn't feeling well or has something that hurts him he *really* doesn't like to be fussed with. Like, get your hands off me you stupid person.

As stated in a previous post, Rex has a fondness for walking through, peeing on, and lately, pooping in, big piles of leaves. This is nothing new from previous years. What is new though is the amount of ticks he has picked up this year. Maybe he is extra sweet and juicy this year. He doesn't like to be fussed with, and he will growl and snarl as the tick is being removed. Growl and snarl to the point where I have to leave the room and Gordo does this on his own. He sounds so awful. Not the dog I love and adore. He becomes *like an animal*. Finally we realized that if I stayed out of the room with my bad energy (thanks, Cesar Milan) Rex would be fine and Gordo could get the tick out.

This morning Gordo found a tick on Rex's foot. The bottom of his foot. Did I mention that Rex doesn't like to be fussed with? Oh, and he doesn't like when you touch his feet. Bad combination. After what felt like forever, and Gordo getting his hand scratched and cut up, we did it. We went to Petco and bought a muzzle. He's such a good dog. Truly he is. Problem solved. No, problem not solved. He squirmed and growled and tried his damnedest to get that muzzle off. Dee and Bee said to sit on him, hold him down with our weight. Hard to do when he's already pissed and won't sit down, let alone lay down. The tick doesn't seem to bother him when he walks, he licks it a bit, but it doesn't seem bothersome. It is so hard to see my dear dog who I love so much growl and snarl and be so angry. I'm sorry Cesar Milan, I am not the pack leader. I am not the alpha dog.

You'll love this story

I strongly believe that the earlier people put up their Christmas decorations, the more ridiculous the decorations tend to be. For example~~ there's a cute little house up the street from us that has been on and off the market for over a year. Finally some people with New Jersey plates moved in a few weeks ago. Last weekend, Gordo and I noticed them putting poles in the ground in the front of their yard. Fence, we thought. The next morning, I left to go to work and there it was. Great. Big. Candy. Canes. And then I looked closer. Teeny. Tiny. Snowman. ON Candy Canes. And the tour de force~ Santa. A very lifelike scary Santa.

I was mesmerized by this monstrosity. So, I took Rex for a walk and brought along my camera. As I shot the Scary Santa photo, Mr. New Jersey came out to get his mail. I probably jumped three feet in the air. "We love your decorations!" I said through my embarrassment. (By 'we' he probably thought I meant Rex and I). "Very festive!" I said, digging myself deeper into my hole of shame. "Thank you very much" said Mr. New Jersey. "Not even halfway done." "Really?" I said, trying not to sound shocked. "Not even halfway" He said again. "Looking forward to it" As Rex and I walked away. I was, and am, embarrassed for myself for getting caught taking pictures of this man's gaudy lawn decorations, but equally embarrassed for his lawn and home that it has to endure this nonsense for the next several weeks. I mean, its not even Thanksgiving. *Let me be clear that this isn't a religion thing. I really do like tasteful Christmas decorations. I love ornaments and Christmas trees. I love me a good Christmas carol. In fact, I really love a good Christmas carol. Even a bad one, really. But Christmas decorations should be reserved for after Thanksgiving. And I'm not biased against bad decorations. Good ones should wait too. Good decorations just seem to understand that they need to wait.

By the way, these pictures would have been much better had I not been caught in the act.

A Ridiculous Purchase

This is a dog biscuit. I paid $2.50 for it. What's worse, Rex wouldn't even eat it.

Pubes and funnel cake

Personal hygiene is an interesting thing. It is, as the name says, personal. However it is something that everything around you sees and experiences with you. For example, yesterday at the pool a woman had very, how shall we say... unkempt pubic hair. Unkempt like I have never seen before. You couldn't help but stare, and think "Isn't she embarrassed?" I get stubble down there and I'm embarrassed. Very interesting. Weird and a bit scarring, but interesting. This same individual when jogging in the morning and got all sweaty because it is wicked hot even at 7am. Then, instead of taking a shower, she jumped in the pool to cool off. Ew. Other people go in that pool. Granted, little kids are probably peeing in there, but she's a grown adult. Gross. It all somehow makes me more conscious of my own personal hygiene.

L and I had our second vacation funnel cake. He insisted on eating it with a fork and knife, but ended up making an even bigger mess that way. Funnel cake makes me happy.