This dog

f
Oh my god. He'll be the death of us, I'm sure. (Or at least our financial ruin.) I know, I know...you look at this face and think, "How could that precious wittle puppy wuppy get on anyone's nerves?" Cha. Right off the bat, that spot on his nose is from him neurotically trying to get out of his crate. He's crated maybe once or twice a week. Seriously. (The ear bows are just for pretty. And my, isn't he pretty?)

Yesterday he got a hold of a nearly empty Desitin tube. He chewed on in just a little before I got it away from him, but I honestly didn't think too much of it. But later, when I gave him dinner and he proceeded to blow chunks all of the kitchen floor, my heart almost stopped. I told the husband what had happened and pondered if it was all related.

I wound up calling an emergency vet since it was after hours. I explained what had happened and they told me to keep an eye on him but to bring him in if there was any more vomiting. I had a tiny breakdown and went to work, texting the husband often to make sure he was still okay. He seemed just fine, and he seems okay this morning. He finished breakfast without incident and he's running around like crazy again, stealing the babies' stuffed animals and waiting for Boobers to drop his sippy cup so he can lick the few dribbles off the end.

This is all important because it was last night that I realized that I really, really, really like this dog. He is such a pain in the ass, but man, I'm attached. The thought of him not feeling well or something worse happening just about breaks my heart. He's a good boy, and chewed tubes of butt cream or not, I love him.

He's still humping the kids though.

Random Tuesday thoughts

It's Tuesday! I purposely wait for Tuesdays just to spew randomness everywhere. You can thank Keely for that.

I took Oscar to the vet today to be neutered. I'm really hoping this helps his humping problem. It's awkward to watch your friend's three-year-old and have to tell her that yeah, my dog humped your baby A LOT while you were gone. Sorry!

Since this whole morning was screwed by waking up late and then getting the dog to the vet's late, I didn't drop the babies off at my mom's today. So it looks like I'm turning to Dora and Blue for some baby-sitting back up.

I got lost on the way back from the vet clinic this morning. It's on a side of town that I'm completely unfamiliar with, and I got turned around, and wouldn't you know it? I'm not equipped with a fucking compass. I'm thinking about having one implanted into the back of my hand. I resisted calling the husband to help me out, even though there were a couple of panicky, near-tears moments. So there's that.

A guy walked into work yesterday and said he needed help. The three of us that were there looked at him attentively, and when he said he needed a topic to write a persuasive paper for school, I audibly snorted. I couldn't help it. I can barely keep up with my own homework, and I'm sure as hell not helping him.

Did you know sometimes I'm evil? Because now that I've typed that out, I look like a huge asshole. Huh.

There's no warm doggy body keeping my feet warm. No cold doggy nose poking me. No puppy eyes begging for a snack. I think I adore that damn dog.

Okay, I think I can wrap up the randomness here. I really wish every day was random Tuesday.

For those considering a smooshyfaced puppy

Get a short one. They can't reach the trash can and they can't do that awkward crotch sniffing thing to your guests.

They encourage your kids to keep their toys picked up. No one likes their toys slobbered on.

They have bad breath. The husband insists this is because they lick their balls, but I'm thinking if their balls smelled that bad that they'd smell like dog breath all over.

My floors have never been cleaner.

On a related note, Boober's face has never been cleaner either.

They'll chase your cat around. I guess this isn't a huge bonus, but Scout is getting some exercise and it's hilarious.

They're always so happy when you come home. Even if I've just stepped away to go take a pee real quick, Oscar does his happy puppy jump thing when I come back.

They give you something to blog about.

When their nails are a tad long but you can't find the damn nail clippers, they make a neat tippity-tap noise when walking around on linoleum.

And when all else fails and they're getting on your very last frayed nerve, you can stick 'em in a cage! I'm pretty sure it's illegal to do that to kids.

Ohhh, my puppy has a first name...

Meet Oscar.



Or Oscard if you're Smella.

If you'll recall, Oscar was my sister's puppy. But the sister has to move, and where she's moving doesn't allow cute, snuggly, smooshyfaced puppies.

Which is a damn shame because this is the best puppy ever.

The sister dropped him off on Friday, and since then he's had one accident. He doesn't chew things he's not supposed to unless there happens to be one of the kids' stuffed animals lying around. He really enjoys gnawing on Boober's stuffed Mickey Mouse.

But other than that, the dog's a dream. He adores the kids, and they are over the moon about having a dog. And me too. He's the first dog I've ever had, and I've always wanted one. But for various reasons (mostly laziness) I never got one.

The opportunity to adopt Mr. Smooshyface was too good to pass up though.

Scout would beg to differ, and I'm pretty sure she's going hoarse from all the hissing and spitting she's been doing lately, but I'm sure she'll come around eventually.

Until then, I have a loyal study buddy. He loves to keep my lap warm while I try not to pass out reading sociology.

I think he's probably a keeper.