Le dog.

Smokey is at it again–I don’t know what in the world he got into, but he is unpredictably exploding it all over my living room, and only when I’m either asleep or not home. I want to kill my actual dog.

A little violent, I know. It’s not his fault–unless he’s intentionally trying to push me into an early grave by disgusting me to death. (I wouldn’t put it past him.) For the first time in forever, I have had to put my dog on a chain and leave him in the yard. And people: it’s a sad, sorry sight. I know I’m frustrated while I’m scrubbing the walls and popping off the baseboards and also some of the floor boards and replacing a rug or two…(actually it’s more than frustrating)..

…but I think it’s mean to chain or lock my dog up outdoors for permanent. I feel terrible for doing it. I hate it when people have dogs that are strictly kept outside and rarely played with or petted. Those dogs? Yeah…I guarantee that they hate their life. And then that poor “family pet” gets in trouble when he digs holes or barks incessantly or runs away. It sucks to be him. What’s the point of having a dog?  (What’s that? You let him sleep in the garage when it’s below freezing at night? Wow. Your kindness is overwhelming.) (Sidenote: sooo not talking about farm dogs and guard dogs and hunting dogs–they have a job and that gives them purpose.)

And then on the flip side you have people like myself who seem to do nothing but vacuum up dog hair and mop up dog pee and clean up muddy paw prints and slobber and their house smells like wet dog even though there’s not a trace of dander or dirt anywhere, and their dogs aren’t at all wet. (I think I have dog hair permanently imbedded in my nostrils.) They talk about Cesar Milan for 3 nauseating hours in a row and worry about how that cheap dog-bed is affecting their puppy’s posture.

Where’s the stupid happy medium here? Why can’t I have a dog who doesn’t randomly eat his own bed? How does Smokey produce the same amount of manure as a cow? Why can’t labrador retrievers come in pocket sizes? And should I change Noah’s name to Gollum?

These big questions come at a time when life could not be more busy. The kids are involved in activities from sun-up to sun-down , 7 days a week. Cheyenne is preparing for life away from home and she’s pushing every limit she can think of. We’re in the middle of the house-building process. We have to get this house ready to sell. Oh, and the pregnancy, and the jobs we’re both trying to keep and stuff.

I’m tired and I’m questioning our decision to ever become pet owners in the first place. How can I take care of these sweet loyal animals when I can barely breathe without barfing?

It’s a phase. I know it’ll pass…like next year, or the year after that. Life goes on, things quiet down.We’ll soon be in a new house that will undoubtedly get trashed by the dogs and the kids within one week. And yes, it’s aggravating cleaning up one mess after another, but that’s part of taking care of living things–and this place is full of them. It takes love and patience; it’s hardly ever convenient. But it’s awesome, as long as we don’t count the messes that require repainting the walls.

And speaking of living things:

That's our baby with a bomb heartbeat. The doctor took a guess as to what we're having--what do you guys think? Boy or girl?

That’s our 12-week old baby with a bomb heartbeat. The doctor took a guess as to what he thinks we’re having–what do you guys think? Boy or girl?

And speaking of house stuff:

IMG_4809

Getting there on framing.

The kids are already obsessed with the stairs.

The kids are already obsessed with the stairs.

And that’s us in a shell for late winter 2014.

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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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