5 posts tagged “dog”

Apollo has been very lethargic and just laying on the couch lately. He stopped eating and therefore wasn't getting his medication for arthritis and dementia ("now where DID i put those dang car keys!??!"). He's an old guy and we were getting worried. He eventually stopped venturing upstairs altogether!
THAT'S WHEN WE SAW IT: POOPSOCK RETURNS! It's the prequel we wish would never happen!

It's been raining off the hook, so poop scopping kind of fell by the way side....a perfect opportunity for recycling snacks (thinks Apollo in his cunning lazy lab way)!
Anyway, there's nothing like a sock (or two, or three) to help clean out the digestive pipes!
Our experts have testified to THREE (read it!) yes, THREE POOP SOCKS currently residing in the yard. No worries, they have been relocated to somewhere they can do no more harm.
Two have been identified. So please look at the line up and see if you recognize and of the socks on the right as the missing 3rd poopsock!

 

 

Because I can't believe how amazing this song is and I just have to share it! It so captures my tiny love, it scares me.

Hmmm, am I just paranoid or...does he look hungry?

Why on earth would I write about this? For one thing, it happened so long ago. It was like at least 2 or 3 months ago, so why bring up the horrible past and drag poor apollo through the mud?
Well, I'm sorry but Poop Sock is worthy of trotting out yet again.
What is Poop Sock?

Imagine, if you will, that you have a doggie who for some odd reason has taken to recycling his food after it has exited his body. Not SO strange as many doggies become shit-eaters for no apparent reason...

Imagine, if you will, a baby who leaves her little socks laying around in all sorts of disarray.

Imagine, if you will the mommas going out at various times to pick up dog poop in the yard.

Imagine there are times one is outside and hasn't yet gotten to picking up the poop...

Hmmm, that looks suspiciously like a sock, no wait, a piece of poop, no wait very sock-like poop...oh TOO BAD I AM UNABLE TO PICK UP POOP RIGHT NOW!

Imagine later when you describe oddity Poop Sock to spousie and she says she saw it too, but SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE YARD!

Imagine when you go to pick up the evil Poop Sock someone (ok, Apollo) runs and dines on it before you even get a chance!!

AND THAT IS THE EVIL TALE OF THE RETURNING POOP SOCK

Disclaimer: I am an AVID advocate of recycling, but this simply goes TOO FAR. STOP eating the Poop Sock while you still can!

Ok, actually the Poop Sock finally got captured after several passes through. I know. DISGUSTING. HORRIBLE. WHY??WHY?? and most importantly, WHY ARE YOU WRITING ABOUT THIS????

Why not dildos or leather or lace or clubbing (not clubbing baby seals) or poetry or whimsy or gentle breezes, why oh why for g-dsakes the POOP SOCK?!?!?!

Ah, glad to finally get that off my chest.

If I were a two year old I would be screaming hysterically for no reason, but instead I will use words for my tantrum...I'm not just in the mood for any more hystrionics today.
While having a two year old can be loads of fun, othertimes she can be, well, a load. Today, my normally somewhat compliant child was a terror, hell-on-wheels spazzymodo freaker. Times like these it's all one can do to keep their shit and try to be all zen and shit about it because otherwise it's just a stupid battle of the wills that has no winner.

Below is a summary of the day I have already had and it is but merely 10 am.
– Give my kid breakfast, she demands everything in sight, taking nibbles and destroying the rest (par for the course, of course)
– Kid screams her head off because I "broke" the strawberry I cut up for her
– kid proceeds to wail while mashing the strawberry pieces together to "fix" them. They are not, however, miraculously reincarnating as a whole strawberry...and instead are, not surprisingly, being destroyed in the "fixing" process
– kid insists on wearing shorts (because i have the boxers i slept in on), even though it is raining
– I tell kid no shorts and through tantrums and horrific wailing she proceeds to change her own diaper (pull up) and put the shorts on anyway
– we are grievously late to school
– kid agrees after some discussion to wear purple pants that have been made to seem very attractive, and most sought after, by momma
– Said kid wants to wear her "squeaky shoes" (thanks zoë) which might be cute at home but are not so appreciated at school
– mom showers, kid comes in as water is turned off and cries hysterically that she wants to get in the shower...and begins ripping her clothes off
– Did i mention we are running super late?
– kid is talked down from the tower
– kid puts clothes back on, but then, whats this? Momma is wearing "blue" pants? Now kid absolutely MUST wear blue pants! (jeans)
– kid wails and cries hysterically as though it is all coming to an end, until momma says that, yes, she can wear jeans if we hurry
– we go upstairs where the little dog has peed in the kid's room. Some of it gets on the doll  which is strewn on the floor

– kid puts on jeans and suddenly has to wear the striped shirt because momma has one on!
– Note: momma also has on a black newsboy hat and a black hoodie
– luckily kid is convinced that a red hoodie will do just fine and AMAZINGLY the little. black newsboy hat which has sat untouched for months springs to new prominence and saves the day
– I meniton now for posterity: we are grievously late to school
– we leave after much distraction and many ploys to avoid everything
– we spend what feels like hours on the stairs discussing why we are not going back in to get the umbrella or anything else
– I threaten to pick her up and put her in the car
– she complies
– she refuses to latch her own belt but is hysterical if I help her
– i do it anyway and we leave with an oddly loud wailing sound eminating from the backseat the entire ride. Oh what could it be?
– we arrive outside the school to demands of "Fifi's House!"
– we are grievously late to school
– she cries on the front steps, in the school, while alternatively being completely fine and distracted for seconds at a time
– I make the huge, ridiculous error of saying goodbye while she is momentarily calm...only to set off another horrific crying jag
– I finally flee the preschool in terror
– I get home to savor some coffee and talk myself down from the tower
– the little dog has shat on the fancy rug
– the elder dog is, quite literally, losing his shit. All over the carpet
– did i mention it smells like a cesspool in here?
– I blog about it so i don't drink a 40 ouncer and reenact a stephen king novel