Jack in Training

Marriage is a strange and wonderful thing. I think that mine leans more toward the strange end of the spectrum. I know, right? One of the wonderful things is that Jack is forever diligent about keeping track of things where I tend to be forgetful and flighty. (I hope that at least one person crinkles their forehead in confusion because they cannot imagine me being either of those things. Just one.) For example, every night he makes sure that my phone is found and plugged in for me. Every night I lay down and ask him if he's seen my phone. Every night he points toward my nightstand where it is plugged in. And every night I smile in gratitude that I don't have to get back up and organize a hunt.

Another one of my little quirks that Jack has to cope with is that I'm a dresser-drawer-leaver-opener. Yup, why open drawers more than you have to? Open once and just leave it. It's what I do. It drives Jack insane because I have a long, low dresser that is caddy corner from our bed. In order to get from bed to anywhere, Jack has to pass between the corner of the bed and the corner of the dresser. It's not a terribly tight squeeze unless of course the drawers are wide open. Unfortunately for him I keep my workout clothes in the bottom drawer nearest the bed and at 5am when I'm getting ready for the gym I can barely remember to get dressed let alone shut drawers.

A couple of weeks ago I had stayed up reading until almost 2 in the morning and must have disturbed him when I came to bed. Our room was pitch black and I heard Jack throw back the covers and stumble to his feet. Then I heard step, step, drawer closing... I suddenly started laughing SO hard and could not stop! Jack continued his journey in the dark muttering, "evil bitch..." I love that guy! Even in the pitch dark, half asleep he knows well enough that I had left the dang drawer open and that his shins were at serious risk!

I feel like I should give him some sort of certificate for achieving what some people can never have. The ability to just accept things as they really are and just cope. I felt a tear in my eye at how far he's come... *sniff*

Life with Cody

It's been almost 14 years since we made the fateful decision to bring our first canine companion into our lives. Fourteen years of exasperation, tears, with the occasional laugh at our own expense. It was always us on the receiving end of the misery as I can only think of one time that Cody's actions directly led to his own humiliation/misery. Other than when he pushed me to the edge a time or two (or fifty or sixty...) and I would grab him by either side of his beautiful white mane and scream at him, "Why do you have to be such an asshole?!"

This probably seems dramatic and maybe even a bit exaggerated, but I swear that this dog, this innocent looking geriatric dog has caused more problems than any creature I have heard of. I watched "Marley and Me" and scoffed at the antics of that dog while thinking to myself that they had nothing on my stories! In fact I've recently started a book about them. One that will likely never get published or recognized in any way, but one that needs to be written nevertheless. I feel like I need to tell the Cody stories even if it's only my form of self therapy. To get it off my chest as they say.

I've been kicking myself lately for not having documented any of his hijinks. Some of the stuff he has done would have definitely been photo worthy even if it was only for us to make a solid case against him for the loss of our sanity. Or to make people that don't know him believe that a dog was capable of such acts. In his old age he has lost some of his pep, but none of his bad and devious attitude. I attempted to make up for my poor documentation history with this picture.

Yes, that is crap on a case of Diet Pepsi. And yes, I do believe that it was totally intentional and pre-meditated. I do not joke about this. He was mad at me for something, pick any reason, and he knows that soda is important to me. That was his statement.

Mel and I walked him three miles that night because I mistakenly thought that Mr. Gimpster would give up and we'd have to leave him on the roadside, but he tromped along like a champ! I'm sure that he will live many more years if only just to spite us. He is the dog that refuses to stop breathing.

In all seriousness he is loved, but in sort of a Stockholm Syndrome sort of way.

Don't Judge Other Parents

I used to watch parents with their children out in public and gasp in shock occasionally at how they would turn around and snap at their child for some seemingly innocent request. I no longer do that. I wish that I could come up with some hand signal or salute that would become the universal sign for "I feel your pain; dang kids!" See, we as the observers have no idea what those children have put that parent through to get them to the point that they are ready to snap for no obvious reason.

The other day I was that parent on the verge of a meltdown, but I was not in a grocery store. I was in a pizza place trying to order a pizza so that I could sit and relax because I could feel myself nearing the end of my short rope. All this thanks to the evil wee people that had been running around insane all day, dragging me down with them. Anyway, Doodles and Sydney had walked down there with me and were running between the video games, the servers area, and me, while touching every table they saw and I tried to look at the menu on the counter. At my elbow was a large stack of to-go menus. As I'm trying to ask the guy at the counter something, I feel a disturbance with the paper menu stack. Without looking I slam my hand down on the stack and continue talking. Again comes the rattling of the paper and again I slam down my hand. The third time I grab the menu, put it pointedly back on the pile and swing my head in a downward arc prepared to threaten the life of a small person if they f*$!#d with the menus again. (remember the pending meltdown??) Only there wasn't a small person there. It was a full grown man hand. Yup. Some guy came in behind me and simply wanted to look at a menu. He looked at me kinda pissed if I do say so myself, and says "excuse me!" I respond with, "I'm sorrrryyy... I thought you were one of my evil children!"

He was judging me. Even after my oh so eloquent apology and the fact that my children were still running around like a-holes, I could tell that he thought that I was a horrible parent while he sat there with his quiet, well behaved child. I know a universal sign I could have given him...