Choosy Dogs Choose Jif

Ozzy Pups never used to bark. At anyone. At anything (except the printer that one time).

Then, about two years ago, we moved. And the dog across the street barks every time someone walks by.

So does the dog next door. And the dog across the street and two houses up. So does the dog three houses up and the dog that lives behind us.

You get the point.

Now Ozzy barks when dogs walk by and almost every time someone comes to the door.

Which is awesome when I’m trying to get Scout to sleep.

Even awesomer now that Scout is down to one nap that just so happens to take place exactly when our mail person arrives. Nothing better than seeing your little one’s eyes flutter as you read them a story, and then BOOM! BARK! BARK! BARK!

Like I said, Awesome.

That leaves me with only one choice. To sacrifice the peanut butter….

Choosy Dogs Choose Jif

 

Move Over Mel Gibson! Scout Is Braveheart

Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”

It’s fun. No, really.

Then we discovered the soccer ball.

My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”

But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…

• Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
• Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
• What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!

What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?

Where’s the Kitty?

Ozzy Pups and Esme Kitty like to play hide and seek.

Only…they’re not very good at it.

Ozzy likes to look in all the logical places Esme might be: like her cat carrier.

Or maybe he’s trying to hide here. I’m not really clear who is hiding and who is seeking.

Esme, on the other hand, prefers to try to squeeze into places she can’t fit.

“If you had less clothes, I would totally fit in here.”

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Luckily our dog that chases things is terribly inept at it and wouldn’t know what to do if he caught anything. The other likes to only eat already dead things. We’re so lucky and blessed!”—The Cannibalistic Nerd

My Dog Ate Your Bird. Oops.

Last week I blogged about the downside to being a stay-at-home mom, which is killing bugs yourself instead of having your husband do it.

There is another downside: dealing with birds.

Ozzy Pups caught a bird in our backyard. It was only a matter of time before this happened.* He’s fast, jumps high, and our neighbors feed all the birds and squirrels constantly so they’re fat and slow.

*Ozzy may have killed a squirrel last summer, but because I didn’t actually see it happen, I just tell myself the squirrel fell from a tree, the fall killed it, and Ozzy just found him.

A wounded, bleeding bird was in my backyard.

I swear the bird looked exactly like this. Book and all.

I should have celebrated and chalked up a point for me in the war against birds, but instead, I felt bad for it.

So what did I do?

I called Kiefer so he could come home and kill it.*

*To put it out of its misery, not because I hate birds.

He refused. So I gave the bird some water and kept Ozzy inside to save the bird from further torment.

Two hours later, the bird flew away.

*I’m not sure how because I’m pretty sure there were more feathers in the yard than on the bird.

Three hours later, my car was covered in bird poo. Coincidence? I think not.

This Is How My Dog Learned to Eat Shoes

Remember back at the beginning of pregnancy when I complained about constantly having to buy bigger bras?

Yeaaaaaah…I had to do that again. But that’s not what this post is about.

The last couple weeks of pregnancy those troubles traveled south. Way south…to my feet.

As in my feet were swollen, not that my boobs were so huge that they touched the floor.

One day I walked around the office in little black bootie/ballet socks and praying that no one would realize I wasn’t wearing shoes. After that, I stole Kiefer’s PF Flyers and wore those to work. Since they’re all black, no one noticed I was wearing sneakers.

My ankles were nearly nonexistent, and every pair of shoes I owned (including the new bigger and wider ones I just bought) were pinching my feet.

I cursed myself for giving Ozzy the most recent shoe box so I couldn’t return the new shoes.

Everyone always posts pictures of cats and boxes, but no one posts about dogs and boxes. In case you were wondering what dogs do with boxes, let me put your mind at rest.

Step 1. Inspect the box for any strange odors.

Step 2. Determine if the box contained food…or is food.

Step 3. Taunt the cat with the new toy box.

Step 4. Determine if the box is indestructible.

Step 5. Destroy the box…but look cute while doing it.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “My life with a newborn was very similar. We put our daughter in the crib the first night and then told her how to work the TV remote and to help herself to anything in the fridge if she woke before us. We were very surprised when she was up….15 minutes later.”—The Waiting