Archive for the ‘dogs’ Category

Day 63: The power of a note on the door…

Be gone all you thiefs!I woke up to discover this morning that my tiny Christmas tree equipped with tiny, shiny, glittery little ornaments was swiped from my front porch. I know that it may not have been the best thing — to actually leave something I gave a rip about on the front porch. But combined with the gold bells on my door, the bow I made latched on to the door knocker — everything felt so nice when I came home. Because from inside and out my house was so very pleasantly festive with Christmas cheer. Well, my Christmas cheer faded with my little discovery.

I became enraged. I left a polite note on my neighbor’s door about it after looking around the complex (and glancing the trash) to see if I would find it somewhere. I sat in my house, numb with anger of course. I’ve been robbed several times in my life. Mostly related to my car. This was it. So I kept checking the peep hole every now and then just to see if I saw someone to ask questions. Then I noticed this one young looking guy coming down from upstairs who looked quite guilty when he stopped at my neighbor’s door to read my note which read:

“If you happen to know who stole my tree, please let me know. It wasn’t very nice. Signed (my apartment number).”

Then after he read it, he looked down directly where my Christmas tree WOULD have been. When I saw his face I decided to draft another letter and this time put it on MY door. This one read:

“Merry Christmas Asshole. Whoever stole my fucking Christmas tree doesn’t know who they are fucking with. You will get yours — one way or another. Signed (my apartment number).”

I fumed. Ran errands and came home. Then I heard some really loud walking and looked out the peephole. I saw my “friendly” upstairs neighbor going downstairs. I decided to wait for her to head back up. She would have to pass my door to get to her apartment. I waited because the connection was made. She was surely friends with the guy from earlier in the afternoon. Before I could completely ask her if she had heard anything funny last night she confessed that her friend stole my tree. She said he was “intoxicated” and that she was sorry and was bringing back the tree. Guess what she said next?

“I didn’t appreciate that note. It wasn’t very Christmas-like…”

THE BALLS ON THIS CHICK! I told her I didn’t give a damn, she stole from me and that I’ve been through a lot in my life. And that I didn’t appreciate HER stealing from me. She proceeded to say it wasn’t her. It was her friend. Same damn thing. Long story longer, she brought it back and said that she didn’t want it to affect things with her and I. Hilarious. My punctuation mark was letting her know I’ve been victimized in my life and that stealing from me was wrong. She felt like shit. Her face was if she may have concluded I was once upon a time kidnapped and left for dead.

What does this have to do with the countdown? Nothing. An hour walking in a parade carrying a giant Curious George yesterday and ending my day getting back stolen property counts as a workout for me.

FIN.

Dogs can poop on your senator

I could just shoot myself for not listening and not taking out a pen and paper while watching the news last night. I admit that I was just relaxing, enjoying hanging out on a holiday weekend with my family and didn’t pay attention to the end story of the night — until I heard the words dog and cemetery.

My local news station did a story on a cemetery (and this is where I want to shoot myself) that received much needed care by using dog walker memberships, but I didn’t hear where the hell it was located! My parents were trying to remember the name of it and I have been frantically Googling to find the story which surprisingly isn’t even on the news’ site. It’s like the story never happened! I can’t blame them though, they did show a clip of a dog actually crapping on a grave site. No joke! Now you know why I could just shoot myself.

So on my Google search I did come across this. If this isn’t news to you, bear with me. But for those of you like little old me, I will tell you that the historic congressional cemetery (which is not government owned) in Washington, D.C. has dog walker memberships. Such memberships helped improve the cemetery in question on the story last night. But can you imagine?! I mean poop you can pick up but in this news story I saw last night (which I’m STILL trying to track down to see if it’s the same place in Washington), dogs were peeing literally inches away from tombstones! Read this from the rules and regs of the Washington organization.

Welcome to Congressional Cemetery. Despite its name, Congressional Cemetery is not a government owned or operated facility; it is a private, non-profit, burial ground. Please keep in mind that Congressional is first and foremost a functioning cemetery, not a “dog park.” Dogwalking is a privilege of membership in the Association. To ensure the harmonious use by all, we ask you to adhere to the following rules.

Oooh. I’m happy for the clarification between a burial ground and a dog park. OK before I give some of the rules, you know what rules are for? Breaking. And you know there just has to be some fun-seekers who will let their dogs crap on an old senator.

2) All dogs must be kept away from people visiting gravesites, burial services, ceremonies, group tours, grounds maintenance crews, and other non-dogwalking visitors and events. Aggressive behavior, barking, jumping, or snarling at visitors or other guests and authorized personnel will not be tolerated and may be grounds for revocation of dogwalking privileges.

I just had a great visual.

4) The Cemetery will be closed to all dogwalkers one hour before and after burials. Notifications will be sent by e-mail and a sign posted at the front gate. The Cemetery will also be closed to all dogwalkers from 9:00 am to 4:00 pm on certain holidays: Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

But what if I want to walk my dog on Christmas morn? I can’t think of a better place than a graveyard! Come on, please. It’s my privilege.

Am I wrong to think this is weird? No matter how long it’s been happening? And can someone in Texas please tell me what graveyard they featured last night on FOX News? I’m not so good a journalist afterall.

[By the way, I sure have been watching a lot of FOX News over here. WTF?]

Road to happiness: Think like a dog.

Last week I was asked to be a “celebrity” judge for an event called Doggie Splash Day. If you are unfamiliar with this kind of event, it’s basically a free for all for dogs and their owners to swim together, goof off and enter funny contests. My category: Talent.

I arrived in a khaki skirt of all things (I had another event immediately before the splish-splashing fun) and some less-than-safe sandals, which I know was kind of dumb but I forgot my sneakers to change into. Anywho, one of the park staff helped me up the very tall and slippery lifeguard chair and I waited patiently for the contest to start while chatting it up with the other “celebrity” judges (one of which was an elementary school principal. Talk about red carpet…)

While I was up there I noticed that a large Labrador or Golden Retriever, I admit to not knowing the difference, stopped at the bottom of the lifeguard chair near my feet. Then I noticed that he was slowly raising his leg and … yea, let’s just say I propped my feet up so quick you can probably still feel the breeze from them swiftly rising to the sky.

Then the dog just walked away without a care in the world. I envied that dog. He didn’t care if he came off rude. He didn’t care if he offended me. He just needed to take a leak and that was mission no. 1 between chasing a ball and taking a leap into the pool.

Well, after the silliness of one too many dogs saying “I love you,” Frisbee tricks, roll over-play dead-shake attempts and one dog that appeared too shy to perform in the talent show, I decided to take a real hard look around the pool. Not a care in the world…

Dogs aren’t stupid but they live simply. They just need some stroking, food, water, playtime and a place to lay their heads. They don’t care if they shit in front of you and you then have to pick it up and dispose of it. They don’t care if they have stinky breath when they lean in to give you a big kiss. Their privates are out for the world to see, they don’t give a rip. They lick themselves and aren’t ashamed. They don’t care if you have cellulite, aren’t the perfect size or have the best wardrobe in the world. They don’t care who you date, what you do behind closed doors, your political opinions.

They just live. And they do so without the trappings we live with every day.

I am convinced that if we all lived that way, there would be world peace — well that and a lot of butt-sniffing …