Cat House

I try to run a tight leash when it comes to the dog. I watched enough dog whisperer pre-Bailey to know my dog had to respect me if I wanted to have any type of control over it. Then we paid a hefty penny for hard core training when Bailey and Jules were fighting, and the respect thing was highly enforced. So when I go on a walk with the dog I keep her on a short leash and don't let her lead or mark along the way. Except for one place, the lawn that belongs to the cat that attacked her.
Yeah. You read that right.  My leashed dog got attacked by a cat.

Back when the baby was about a month old the four of us (me pushing the stroller, Mike walking the dog) were taking a w-a-l-k when out of nowhere this streak of orange comes from behind and animal fight noises start. The baby starts to wail so I snap into mama bear mode and run a few steps to protect her. Meanwhile Mike has managed to pick up the dog by her leash while kicking at the streak of orange attacking her, which then retreats to a tree trunk and hisses at us. While in fight mode something has bled on mike's pants and the dog nipped or scratched him along the jaw so he's bleeding too and all we can do for a moment is stare in disbelief at this hissing streak of orange that we have just realized is a cat. But it gets even more ridiculous.

All the commotion brought the cat's owner outside who asks what just happened. The dog is still wriggling so we have no idea if she's okay but we know at least one animal is bleeding, my husband is bleeding, the baby's crying and this cat is hissing at us. So still in a bit of shock we tell them this cat just attacked our dog. And their response? "But he doesn't even have claws!"

Excuse me? This cat we have seen around the neighborhood before that just attacked our dog is declawed?  WHAT? And the owner, who didn't see a damn thing and leaves the garage door open a crack so this declawed cat can roam around, keeps insisting the cat doesn't have claws and doesn't believe us, and they don't even ask if anyone, human or animal is okay.

By this point the hissing cat has run back into the open garage, Jules has stopped wriggling enough that we can tell at the very least she's and dr soc's jaw isn't gushing blood, but the baby is still wailing at the top of her lungs, our nerves are on edge and the cat owner keeps reiterating the cat doesn't have claws. We need first aid and we're going to get absolutely nowhere with this person, so we curtly restate the cat attacked our dog, and we are leaving to take care of ourselves and hightail it home.

The whole walk home we're making sure we're not crazy and that we both saw/heard the same thing. A streak of orange that roams around the neighborhood whenever it wants because the garage is left open is a motherf*cking declawed cat and it attacked our dog. That sounds made up but it totally happened! At home we clean the shallow scratches on Jules' legs and the nip along dr soc's jaw, but thankfully everyone is okay enough. In disbelief, but okay.

A motherf*cking declawed cat attacked my dog. Mark all you want at that cat house Jules. Mark all you motherf*cking want.

Santa's Bag

Want to hear how I was almost the asshole who ruined Christmas?

Dr soc and I were out to dinner the other night and we were talking about our friends who are going to keep the magic of Santa going for as long as possible since their 10 year old still believes. Which we love and intend to do ourselves because we're both Santa fans.

me: Oh how great! Because I remember how bummed I was when I found out --
--I abruptly stopped--

I realized at that moment there were young kids all around us who may or may not still believe in Santa Claus. And several of them kept looking over towards our table and smiling at the baby because she's adorable. And I had almost let the cat out of the proverbial bag. I beckon to my husband to come closer and in a hushed tone I said we were surrounded by kids and I could have almost ruined Santa. He glances around and a look of understanding crosses his face because, like me, he assumed since our baby doesn't understand 75% of what we saying yet, it didn't occur to us other little ears may be listening either.

So then in a normal voice we continue our conversation but I amend my statement a little.
me: I was so disappointed was when I found out how much my parents helped Santa out.

Phew, 2016 will go down as the year I wasn't the asshole stranger who ruined Christmas for those kids. Because let's be honest, we all remember that asshole who ruined Santa for us. (I eventually figured it out on my own, but admittedly I was pretty slow on the uptake)    

To a better 2009

Last December, I worked roughly 60 hours a week between 2 jobs, fought a nasty cold for a month, and somehow went apartment hunting too. Not to mention holiday shopping and baking (because I had sooo much time to do that), the dog was getting fixed that month (so on pain meds and was wearing a cone that knocked into everything) and my fiance wouldn't touch me, hell, even come near me because he "couldn't afford to get sick" (and I could? Did you think I was working my ass off for the fun of it? Not because I was trying to save money for our wedding you jackass). Needless to say, I was stressed. I was exhausted, cranky, sick and my my feelings were hurt on top of all that. So I wasn't a tinsel twinkling ray of Christmas cheer when I pulled double duty at the second job. One night I told one co-worker that I hated working with another coworker because "she smells like cat pee or stale snatch." Suddenly I was known as the cranky bartender. Fine by me, people left me alone that way.

So new years eve, I did not want to go out. I had only worked a few hours bartending and made it home by 10 o'clock, but I was in no mood to be social. I wanted to be in my pj's, snuggled tight against his chest on the couch with a bottle of champagne and get my new years kiss. That was it. But he wanted to go over to his friend's house, where they're all smoking like chimneys, getting obnoxiously drunk on crappy beer and going to annoy the crap out of me being the trashy people that they are. And I told him, "I don't want to go, because I'm exhausted, it's smokey, and I don't want to leave the dog alone (She was off the pain killers by then). And instead of remembering how much he missed me on Christmas (we spent it at each of our own parents houses' and not together) and had agreed to no more holiday's apart, he left me anyway. He even waited until after I got home from work just to make sure I really didn't want to go. So I spent new years eve in my pj's on the couch, where I fell asleep before midnight, the dog curled up around my feet, and with no champagne. I woke up right as they were counting down the new year, only to give the dog a quick kiss. Yes, it's exactly as sad as it sounds. And when he called me at midnight, to wish me happy new year, he was pretty unhappy surrounded by all the other couples and remember how much loved me. He remorsefully said "I should have stayed with you." My response was, "Yes. You should have." And then I went to bed alone.

Here's hoping 2009 is a much better year.

Math Is My Strong Subject

Seriously, math has always been something I'm good at. Yeah my skills get rusty if they don't get used on a constant basis, but all I typically need is a quick refresher course and I'm good. I whipped college algebra's ass and was able to test into calculus without taking pre-calc. Though pre-calc may have been helpful because that's where they teach you trigonometry so I struggled with that in my calculus class at UK. Math wise I was OK, just a little behind, but legally I was in trouble because the only thing that stopped me from stabbing my classmates was that I didn't want to ruin one of my better pens. (And it turns out I could take Stats 200 instead of calculus for my sociology degree, where I did not want to stab anyone in that class and I got a B in. So, win!)

Anyway, this is actually a dog post and not a math post.

Bailey is 1 dog. Jules is 1 dog. And 1 + 1 = 2. So I have 2 dogs. This works in theory, yes. But in reality, 1 Bailey + 1 Jules = 70 lbs of spaztastic chaos, and roughly 116 lbs (I've lost weight!) of pet mommy exhaustion and frustration.

It's honestly getting to the point where I'm starting to not like walking them. Bailey is a dog that needs a walk every single day. And we're not talking a once around the block kind of walk with her. She needs good half hour at least to have any kind of impact on her energy level. She won't burn off enough energy otherwise. And high strung dog is a destructive and nerve shooting dog. Jules is smaller so she can run around the house and be ok energy wise, but walks are good for her too. I can handle Bailey just fine. I can handle Jules just fine. So, for efficiency's sake, I walk them together. Bailey and I alone walk well together. But Jules and I do not. And me, Bailey, and Jules most certainly do not walk well together.

They have different type leashes first off. Bailey is walked in a no pull chest harness and a 6 foot nylon leash I've had since her puppy days. Jules walks in a chest harness and an extend-able leash. I typically lock Jules' leash to the same length as Bailey's so as to not have a pack leader. But there are still problems on our walks.

Such as Jules pulls. Which isn't a problem in theory because she's 20 lbs and I am lots heavier than her. But since I carry both but different leashes in the same hand to keep the other one free, because trust me, I need that free hand, the leashes get twisted a lot and the girls play bumper dogs. Bailey gets distracted easy (just like her mom) and veers off disrupting/cutting off Jules. When Jules pulls I snap on the leashes as a controlling method, but Bailey's gets snapped too when she hasn't exactly done anything wrong.

But the biggest problem is when we see another dog and/or kids. Jules starts digging in pulling because she wants to meet someone, but Bailey I shorten her leash and pull her closer to me because she doesn't have the gentlest hello. And Bailey has been known to lunge, like most dogs do, but usually in excitement in meeting someone new (or a cat) Sometimes, I'm able to keep Bailey close with only a few head turns from her while Jules pulls with all her might, but we keep going without incident. But in other case scenarios, when Bailey does get riled up, she often flails about without being conscious of her surroundings, ie, Jules. And if Bailey flails into Jules, Jules gets upset and starts sh*t with Bailey. So then I'm contending with two riled up dogs who are creating mayhem. I have to somehow separate them so they don't harm themselves, each other, me and whatever lured them over, and I need to pull them away as fast as I can from whatever got them riled up in the first place. Add to that a poop bag or two (tightly knotted) swinging around like a bio hazard, and you have our afternoon walk.

I don't mind that I have to walk the dogs, it's just one of the responsibilities of being a dog owner. But that 1.2 miles can be exhausting when it's just us girls. The walks are a lot easier when I have help, but dr soc doesn't have the time most afternoons/evenings to take a walk around the neighborhood. Plus, he's never walked Bailey by himself, let alone both of them. I don't want to have to resort to walking them separately because I don't think my body can handle that in addition to my running schedule. (I've been pushing myself hard, and my body is starting to let me know it does need that rest day.) But I'm tired of this. And I'm sick of every dog training website telling me Bailey's behavior is my fault. But I'm mostly baffled at how 1 dog + 1 dog does not = 2 dogs.

Weight Limit

Dr soc has a cute (and much better behaved than mine) dog. Jules (his) is sweet, friendly and playful, and I really like her. She's black and white and about 20 lbs which is small, but she's a beefy 20 lbs.

Small but beefy. And adorable

Also? She's gassy. That dog can clear a room. I was cat napping through a movie and woke up due to the smell when Jules let one in my lap. In fairness to Jules, not all of them are toxic, but like humans, the quieter they are, the worse they smell. However, the noisier they are, the funnier they are. The other day she was climbing all over me and a long whoopee cushion sound comes out of her butt. Being the mature people that we are, dr soc and I double over and continue to laugh until tears fall from our eyes. Meanwhile, Jules looks between us and smiles, completely unabashed.

So when I say she's 20 lbs, she really is. But I'm pretty sure that at least one of those pounds is gas.

How Much Does My Dog Love Me?

This morning I did the Humane Society's 12th annual Mutt Strut. The things you learn about once you have a dog. 12th annual? I had no idea this thing existed! (fun fact, 53% of Lexington's population owns a dog, cat or both. Yay, I'm in the majority now!)

Well anyway, I basically paid $20 to walk my dog around Keeneland (however we did not get to walk where the ponies walk like I did for my race). But it's for a good cause, and my dog gets to go on a w-a-l-k and meet other dogs. Win-win. Motion sickness pill ingested (yeah, I have to give Bailey a motion sickness pill for car rides. Seriously, I have a ridiculously "special" dog), we head off for the fundraiser. There were lots of dogs, all sorts of shapes, sizes, colors, and temperaments (it made me happy to see so many people had mutts). My dog? Is an instigator. She sniffs, licks, then runs away. Well, as far as she could run on her 6' leash (so not far).

God's little joke on all if us? Rain showers. You know what's stinky? Over 100 wet (but happy) dogs. But who cares, because my dog in all her excitement, now looks like this:

Exhausted. And stinky. But cute. Ahh, good day! Thanks mom!

Scaredy Cat (that would be me)

We (ok, mom and dad) got an invisible fence for Bailey. There's mini dvd how to train her and it's basically show the border, temp to border, try to get her to stay inside borders ("the center of the yard is a happy playful place"). And you do this process over the course of a month, in 2 stages. Both with the zap collar on, but the first stage w/something covering the zap thingys. So it just beeps and doesn't zap yet.

Well today, we're outside doing our lesson, all is going well. I'm tossing a ball around trying to get her to chase it, but she's not going to the border/flag line because she knows I'll pull her away like I'm supposed to do. I'm reaching down to pick up the ball, but to the horror of all horrors, I saw a snake in the grass too. It only takes me a nanno-second to shriek at the top of my lungs and then bolt clear out of the yard, (and way past the invisible fence) practically dragging Bailey with me on her leash. Thank god we're still in the beeping phase. Because in my blind panic caused by what was probably a small garden snake, as I was crossing the flag line, I thought "f*ck the border! Snake! Must run for our lives!!" While she was thinking: oh mommy wants to sprint yay! (which I didn't, I already ran today and am not in the mood to go again)

Have I mentioned I'm terrified of snakes? TERRIFIED. Because if you hadn't figure that out by my above reaction, um yeah, terrified.