I'm Jealous of Mariah Carey's Dogs

Rosie would be SO jealous if she knew about this...

 

Mariah Carey Reportedly Spends $46,000 a Year on Spa Treatments...FOR HER DOGS!!!

 

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In related news, I'm extremely sad but not at all surprised that Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon are splitting up.  I always knew the only person that could truly appreciate her diva demands and lifestyle was ME!

 

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Mariah, call me.  I'll help you out

National Rosie Day

Even though I'm a day late, I have to give a shout out to my girl Ro Ro for National Dog Day.  What a great holiday!

 

Oh Rosie, how do I love thee.  Let me count the ways:

 

Even though you take up 80% of the bed, despite being just 10 lbs...

 

 

Even though you will only eat dog food if we hand feed it to you...

 

Even though you make it impossible to finish a load of laundry before you jump on top of it and make it your personal nest...

 

 

Even though you bark at every.thing.ever...(even at things that seemingly do not exist)...

 

Even though you cry like a little baby every time I leave the house, even if it's for 10 minutes...

 

Even though you somehow get every single blanket in the house all the time...

 

 

 

 

 

Even though you prefer other humans to dogs, because you are too good for your fellow K9's...

 

 

Even though you lick Jack's face, body, and blankets when I ask you not to, for want of his delicious spit up...

 

 

And even though you simply don't give a f*ck about most things that don't involve you or your nap...

 

 

I love you girl.  Thanks for being the best first dog a girl could ever ask for.  And the hottest piece of dog ass in my neighborhood.  You make even the most interested people melt with your cuteness and want to engage.  You have helped me meet so many neighbors and former strangers.

 

 

The only thing better than going to sleep with cuddly Rosie at night is waking up to smiling Jack in the morning.  Who only smiles all the more when he sees Rosie.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've got a lot of cuteness in my life these days!

 

 

 

#nationaldogday

Doggy Swag

My uncle saw this dog while filling up his gas recently. 

 

 

 

I need to get some sunnies like this for Rosie.  Only I think her style is more like this. 

 

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Grant would absolutely kill me.

 

I love fellow ridiculous dog owners :)

The 10th of July

Whoever is the A-hole who continues to detonate fireworks long after the thrill of July 4th  is gone, I opposite of salute you.

 

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So does my skittish dog and her petite heart which has been in borderline cardiac arrest since last Friday.

 

 

 

I was fine sitting inside while the fireworks blasted on the 4th of July because my baby was asleep inside.  But not because my dog was shaking like a leaf on a tree, even while cradled in my arms. 

 

It's over for this year pyros.  But your fireworks away and let me dog relax!

Foot in Mouth Disease

I'm lucky in that I don't suffer from post-partum depression, even though Tom Cruise says it isn't real.  But instead I seem to have contracted a severe case of post-partum Foot in Mouth Disease.

 

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Recently I said the following absolutely stupid and awkward things:

 

1) Someone told me she wanted to come see me but was "looking a sight".  She still wanted to come say hey and give me a hug though.  I said, "That makes two of us!" 

 

I meant that I was also "looking a sight" because, well, I am a frumpy mess 100% of the time.  But it came out sounding like I had also been waiting to give her a hug.  This is only made exponentially more awkward by the fact that I barely know this person.  Her subsequent silence spoke volumes.

 

2) Rosie had some major stomach problems recently so I took her to the vet.  I was telling the Vet's assistant that I noticed that she had bloody diarehea this morning.  She may have had it all night but Grant took her out each time and didn't bother to observe if her poop was bloody so I didn't know exactly when it started.

 

She said, "Oh I have one of those too!"  I got all excited and said, "Bloody diarreah?!"  She paused uncomfortably and said, "Um, no.  A husband who isn't observant..."

 

Um, duh Marilyn.  In what world would a grown woman being telling you about her poop?  Why would I not automatically assume that she was talking about the oblivious husband?  Because that is actually funny and not completely disgusting and awkward.  Fail.

 

 

3) Same vet's appointment.  I was talking to the vet about his 3rd child that he is expecting.  He said when his other babies were infants he "co slept".  For a split second I was thinking that he meant that he slept half of the time while his wife fed the baby in his or her nursery and then she slept the other half of the time while he fed the baby.  Not that they slept together in the bed with their baby, which is obviously what co sleeping is.  So I enthusiastically said, "LUCKY!"

 

So now he thinks I'm bitterly jealous of his newborn bed buddy situation and that my husband actively denied me co-sleeping rights.

 

He also threw out the term EBF (which stands for exclusively breastfeeding), so to be clear I am neither jealous of his co-sleeping or the fact that he is a straight man who knows what that means and thinks it's ok to use the acronym so cavalierly.

 

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The diagnosis is in and I got it bad.  Food in mouth disease and general stupidity and awkwardness.  I hope it's not contagious.

Best Friends for Never

Even though Rosie seems like she might be coming around to Jack, and even though she loves him a lot when he has milk on his face and she temporarily dedicates her life to licking it all off, I still think Rosie is semi-devastated about having a sibling/not being an only child anymore.

 

They do have their moments.

 

 

If I could sum up their relationship in terms of shitty jewelry, I would say that Jack has a piece from the Open Heart Collection by Jane Seymour for Kay Jewelers. 

 

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And Rosie has one half of a BFF necklace that she got at a kiosk at the mall, then  promptly put one half around her own neck and threw the other one on top of an Orange Julius in the trash can at the mall food court.  Way harsh.

 

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Basically Rosie isn't really accepting new friends right now.  And Jack is too clueless and naïve to know that he's only being used for his tasty drool.  You could cut the tension with a knife.

What's slower than a tortoise? A dead tortoise.

My mailman either has a crush on me or hates my guts.  I base this theory on the fact that he rings the doorbell 80% of the time he brings the mail (crush).  But knows that I have an infant that might be napping and a bark that definitely goes ape shit every time the doorbell rings (hates guts).

 

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Usually it's to give me a parcel that is slightly bigger than the mailbox but could easily be left on the front stoop (crush).  But yesterday it was to give me some disturbing news.

 

"Hey, I don't want to gross you out, but there is a dead turtle in your yard and buzzards are starting to swarm.  That thing is going to smell pretty terrible in a few days." 

 

 

I told him I wondered what happened to it because I could see the shell in tact clear as day in my front yard, leading to believe a car was not the culprit.

 

"I'm not sure but his head is pretty much ripped off."

 

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I was going to take a picture of the turtle for the blog, but no...It's not really the platform for dead turtle pics.

 

I had the pleasure of telling Grant when he got home that the recycling, trash, and dead turtle needed to be taken to the street for pick up. 

 

The only person who might have been more shocked upon seeing a casually dead turtle in our front yard was the trash collector who caught a quick glimpse or a turtle cadaver dropping from the large green can. 

 

Mail time is nearing for today's drop off.  Let's see if he decides to ring the door bell and start a new chain of chaos in the household!  My girl Rosie can baaaaaaark.

Earning My Stripes

It's official.  I'm totes a real mom now.  Jack peed in my eye last night while I was giving him a bath.  Like, directly in the peepers.

 

We are trying to put him on a "schedule" so it won't take him 2 hours to go to sleep at night.  The bath is part of that ritual.  That desperate, mostly failing, nightly ritual.

 

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Is there anything cuter than a clean baby in a hooded towel?  Especially with a jealous, snuggly little dog next to him?  I think not.

 

 

 

One part of our routine that Jack has nailed down pat is waking up at 7am on  the dot.  You know, waking back up at the crack of dawn every morning isn't exactly the first step in a routine that I was hoping for, but at least he's consistent in something.  And consistently adorable.

 

That part helps a lot.

 

 

 

As an added bonus to getting peed in the eye, Rosie also threw up grassy liquid all over our bedspread last night. 

 

It's funny.  I used to dry heave at baby's dirty diapers.  Now Jack's don't phase me. 

 

I used to hate touching dogs except my family's, now my most favorite time of day is snuggling up next to Rosie at night while she scratches her ass next to my pillow. 

 

Times they are a changin'.  And my standards are a plumenting.

Rosie Update

Since a few fellow dog obsessed people asked me about Rosie, I thought I'd give you an update.  I took her to the vet.  After a quick visit and some urine analysis, it turns out Ro Ro has some sort of infection of the lady bits. 

 

 

Did you know that, according to the vet's office, the easiest way to collect a sample of your pet's urine is to follow them around until they squat and quickly place a tray under their stream?  I did that yesterday.  It was fun running after a dog's 1/2 ounce of pee while pregnant in the freezing cold at 8am. 

(No really, it was.  I felt like a good mom.  And a scientist.)

 

Even though I inexplicably have to give her these antibiotics for 14 days, twice a day (?!?!), she already seems like her old, bladder-controlled self after just one day of them. 

 

Now, if we could just move to a no-fly-over zone than homegirl would quit barking at everything that passes in the sky and we could all sleep in peace.  But things are looking up!  Especially for our floors.

How to Un-House Train Your Dog

Step 1: Assume that since she is 11 months old and has rarely peed in the house, and that she is the cutest dog ever, that she is and will forever be perfect.

 

A lady likes nice things.  And lots and lots of blankets.

 

 

Step 2: Get her spayed.

 

Step 3: Give her a full day of surgery to be the saddest, most pitiful thing ever.

 

The sadness and confusion was palpable.

 

Step 4: Treat her like a gentle angel.  Give her a raw hide bone that was sent to her in the mail to show her she is special and deserves treats.

 

Step 5: Watch as she mauls the raw hide bone all day long and then subsequently drinks an ungodly amount of water. 

 

Step 6: Take her out the usual 10 times a day that seems pretty generous for any pet.

 

Step 7: Step in a big puddle of her pee.  Take her out again.

 

Step 8: Wait 15 minutes and find another puddle of pee on your rug. 

 

Step 9: Scratch your head and think, WTF, Rosie!?  I thought we had a deal.  Hello, see Step #1!

 

Melancholy and the infinite sadness.

 

 Step 10: Wake up around 3am to your husband cursing at the pee puddle by his feet in bed.  He he.  Laugh a little to yourself that she has only ever peed on his side.

 

Step 11: Enjoy this rare moment of sleeping alone while he moves to the couch, even though it means that you are sleeping with no covers because they are in the wash.

 

Step 12-15: Blame it on the raw hide, blame it on the surgery, blame it on the rain.  Something is not the same with your dog.  She officially thinks the office is her personal toilet and the bed is her own pee pad. 

 

Step 16: Be a little devastated because your angel baby is not, in fact perfect.  Even 2 weeks post-surgery.  Ask for help or tips on how to get back to Step 1.

 

Anyone!?  Tips?!  Suggestions!?  I want my perfect dog back.  Not just because I don't like stepping in pee.  I also am not a big fan of washing my sheets every other day and sleeping in fear of Rosie wetting the bed. 

 

She has a shoe fetish with only my shoes.  Some dogs like to eat shoes.  Rosie like to use them as pillows :)

 

 Hopefully with time her habits will go back to the ladylike manner in which I had become accustomed.  Until then, baby girl is going to be limited to a survival-only water supply.

Animal Arithmetic

I saw this license plate, not surprisingly, as I was leaving the Vet's office yesterday picking up some medicine for my baby girl, Ro Ro.

 

Rosie has been experiencing her menses for the last 2 weeks.  It's been a really interesting experience for us all.  But do not ask her about, she's not ready to talk about it.

 

Don't be ashamed Rosie.  You're a woman now!

 

The medicine I was getting was actually for heart worms.  I just thought I'd take this opportunity to over share about my dog's menstrual cycle.

 

So, the license plate.

 

 

 

The only thing I can say to this is...Actually, it does not equal that?  I looked it up.  Kid is not even another word for a horse, baby or otherwise.

 

Sure I'm basically letting my dog use my entire house as a her personal maxi pad.  And sure I've wished more times than not that I could carry her around in a Baby Bjorn.  And I feed her more organic food than I feed myself.  But that's Rosie.  She isn't even my kid.  She's my princess.

 

 

 

You can't fit a horse in a Baby Bjorn.  You can't cradle it in your arms and tell it everything is going to be alright.  You can't fit in a makeshift hammock that you make with a combination of your legs and a Snuggie.

 

 

It's just not the same.  HRSE does not = Kid.

I Have Risen

It turns out we either got punked, or an even bigger animal came and took the dead animal away.

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Bug-N-A-Rug came to save the day yesterday, only there was no day to save.  So I probably looked like a stupid little girl crying, "Wolf...I swear there was one yesterday...".

 

Oh well.  At least my house no longer smells like butt.

 

The whole ordeal kind of reminds me of the time I had "Globus".  Globus is when you have the sensation of a lump in your throat.  Only...there's not one. It's basically the condition of not having a condition.  No one found this funnier than my sister when I was "diagnosed".  Thankfully I'm a globus survivor and my symptoms have long since disappeared.

 

 

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Kind of like my dead basement animal.

 

The real tragedy of the (faux?) dead beast was Grant's finger prints.  In his effort to search the ventilation ducts below our house, he had to take some apart.  When putting them back together with some sort of very serious caulk, he turned his hands a black tar-like consistency that would absolutely not come off.  Even after he used special soap, fingernail polish remover, Goo Gone, and sandpaper (!). 

 

I was so scared that he was going to destroy our sheets in his sleep with tar and/or blood, I kindly requested that he wear my purple glove liners to bed.  He furiously obliged and went to bed looking like a gay axe murderer.

 

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We were NOT allowed to laugh about it that night, but I giggled myself to tears behind every corner and door I could find when he wasn't looking.  It was quite a sight.

 

Now my house smells like roses and Rosie and all is right in the world!  We can just chalk that up to another adventure in home ownership!

 

Boston Here I Come

Guess who's off to Beantown tomorrow? 

 

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Me, silly.

 

Going to Boston, AKA Beantown, makes me want to wear a Beanie.  I think it's because when I was younger I actually did have a beanie, and some hot but mean soccer player guy threw it in a trash can on top of a bunch of baked beans.

 

Those two things have always gone hand in hand to me.

 

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But I digress...

 

Are there any must-sees, gotta-eats, can't-miss-its, life-changing places in Boston that I need to know about?

 

Let me know if you have any suggestions!!!  I am so excited for a vacation.

 

You know who is not that excited, though?  This little diva and her pillow fort.  She doesn't even know what's coming.

 

 

Whoooo Whoooo

Before I got Rosie, I read a book about her breed.  It taught me lots of great things about her teeth, her heart, her demeanor, etc.

 

What it didn't tell me about was what to do when your King Charles Spaniel gets in a barking match with an owl at 3:45 AM.  I could have really used that chapter last night. 

 

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This was after she already woke us up at 11:45, 1:30, and 2:00 barking for no reason.  It went on about every 30 minutes for the entirety of the night.  Until the morning light came through the windows. 

 

(I'm sure the owl had no idea it was participating in ruining my REM cycle, poor guy).

 

That's when she started barking again for no apparent reason that I could tell.  The owl had said it's goodbyes.  The weather was calm.  There was nary a noise to be heard.

 

It wasn't until I got up and she was STILL barking that I realized what her problem was this time.  She had found her reflection.  And, unlike most people who have met Rosie's adorable little face, she was NOT a fan.

 

Needless to say, I got a super crappy night's sleep and I'm now hung over on Rosie and lack of sleep.  She's really lucky her face is so damn cute, but sometimes I think if it wasn't, I might have to kill her.

 

 

Oh, Monday

I wish it was a viable excuse to say,

"I can't come to work today because my dog is being too cute."

 

 

Today would definitely be one of those days.

Auto Fill

Wow.  It's a disturbing world we live in:

 

 

Priorities people.

 

And for the record, I was looking up "how much does an electric fence cost".  Yesterday Grant took his eyes off of Rosie in the backyard for a few minutes.  He looked up and she had vanished.  After a frantic and unsuccessful search, she casually came sauntering up the driveway with a bagel in her mouth as if nothing had happened. 

 

We don't have bagels.  And we still have absolutely no idea how she procured the breakfast treat.  She's a mysterious creature, that one!