Howdy, howdy! How’s everyone doing this week? Things here are quiet. Spent most of last week vegging and watching TV with Dad. He wasn’t feeling too well. We think it was just an inner ear infection. He’s mostly better now, so huzzah! Anyway, Sunday was Fathers’ Day and his birthday is July 18th (a Monday), so I figured I’d write a short post to say “I appreciate you!” As he knows, I’m bad at this. Please excuse the awkwardness.
As most of you know, I am my dad’s daughter. I get my inappropriate sense of humor from him. He’s the one who taught me that pretty much anything can be turned into something dirty. You can also blame him for the puns. So many puns. And he’s the reason I got into horror. He gave me Stephen King books when I was like 12 or 13, including The Stand (uncut). Is it any wonder I turned into a weirdo? But he loves me anyway.
And, of course, I have to mention the food. He’s the bestest cook ever. The pastrami and pulled pork and brisket. Mmm… there’s also the rare lasagna when he makes sauce from scratch and has the rest of the ingredients. Or baked ziti. And there are pots of beans with meat and he puts them on corn chips with a little crema agria and cheese on top. Can’t forget breakfast. Home fries with bacon. Sausage gravy and biscuits. Chorizo nachos. Everything with two eggs on top. Be jealous. It’s okay.
He also takes care of me 100% of the time, even when he doesn’t feel well. So… I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you and appreciate you, Dad!
Hello, hello! How is your month going? Things are about the same as usual around here. Writing is a struggle, submissions are on schedule, reading is being accomplished, and I’m slowly getting into my new hobby of crocheting (we’ll see how far I can get with it). But I have nothing writerly to talk about, so I thought I would formally introduce you to the dog we got on Christmas. You’ve seen pictures of her if you’ve been stalking me, but it’s time to let you know all her dirty little secrets.
On Christmas, Dad’s friend and the friend’s woman-friend brought over two Pomeranians, husband and wife. The woman had inherited them from her dead husband who had inherited them from a friend who had passed away. Due to the hours she works, she didn’t have enough time to dedicate to properly caring for the dogs, so Dad’s friend suggested us as potential pupper parents. Unfortunately, they neglected to mention that the boy dog had congestive heart failure (claiming repeatedly that he just had a cough and was always lethargic like that) and didn’t bring his medicine until the next day, so he passed away. It was a bit traumatic for Dad (especially since the dog died in his lap while he was trying to give it its medicine) and I, but the girl dog stuck around.
Her name is Lady. For the record, we didn’t name her, not that it really matters since she doesn’t seem to know her name anyway. She answers to “Hey!” more than anything. I tend to call her Fuzzybutt, but Dad thinks she should be named “Rocks” since she’s about as smart as a box of ’em. She doesn’t know any commands and doesn’t seem keen to learn any. But aside from being on the dumb side, she is the happiest dog ever! Always prancing around like she deserves ALL the treats. She demands cuddles and pets, but she won’t kiss for them. As long as you’re touching her, she’s your friend for life.
She’s a great dog. Super sweet. She goes outside to poop. The only problem is that she pees wherever she wants, which is usually in the house. Dad even installed a doggy door for her, but it makes no difference. In the beginning, we assumed it was her bedwetting problems, which she has medicine for but refuses to take recently. Apparently, she just likes peeing on soft things. The sofa, clean laundry, pillows, our beds, her bed. It’s weird. And it’s like she holds it all day or night just so she can soak things down. She’s just doing it out of spite, because it seems to get worse when we leave her alone for a few hours (like to go get dinner). She’ll be fine while we’re gone, then she’ll soak her bed or a pillow or something after we’ve been home a while. Suggestions for how to break this habit are welcome. Everything on the Interwebz starts with “put her bed there because she won’t pee where she sleeps!” But I call bullshit, because she most certainly does.
Other than the peeing thing, she’s such a good pupper (she’s 8, but all dogs are puppers). The vet and staff love her. The groomer loves her. We love her, but shhhhh… don’t tell her that.