Puppy

Weekend Recap | Bengals, Coffee, Storm, Coffee, Snoring, Coffee

Dear Kid,

To recap the weekend.

The Bengals. Painful. Just painful to watch. In case you missed it (be thankful), there was fighting—as in it looked like a hockey game broke out on the field (no, I don’t think it looked like mixed martial arts). People were ejected. Commentators had explosive coronaries.

Behind every successful woman is a substantial amount of coffee. ~Stephanie Piro DearKidLoveMom.comSpeaking of painful to watch, I was on TV (I do not like to be in front of cameras). David (from La Terza Coffee) and I got up at (insert ungodly hour of the morning) and went down to WLWT to talk about the Cincinnati Coffee Festival. Dad said we were awesome, so I’m going with that. Of course, we were followed by puppies (seriously—tiny balls of fur were showing off their adorableness before their adoption event) and it’s pretty much impossible to compete with puppies.

I did not adopt one. But it was a struggle.

I’m going to be on TV again today on a different channel with a different coffee vendor. Hopefully no puppies and no struggling to walk away without taking one home.

Equally as difficult was sleeping. There was a storm. Complete with warnings (Flash Flood Warning, Severe Thunderstorm Warning, Tornado Warning, Unhappy Puppy Being Walked in the Rain Warning—you name it, we were warned).

On the plus side, it was clock changing weekend. I love having an extra hour. I usually spend it doing something wildly self-indulgent. This year, I spent it watching the Bengals implode. That was not self-indulgent. It was more ex-dulgent.

Also on the plus side: snoring Puppy. It is one of the most wonderful sounds in the world. And since he snored on and off all day, it was more than enough to satisfy my extra hour happiness quota.

Hope you enjoyed your extra hour.

Love, Mom

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Stop The Shedding! | Winter is Coming

Stop The Shedding! | Winter is Coming

Dear Kid,

Dear Puppy,

Take a look at the calendar. Take a look outside. Take a look at all the Pumpkin-Spice everythings.

It is Fall. And after Fall comes (some form of) winter.

Which means temperatures are going to continue to drop.

Puppy: Of course not. Now leave me alone. I have to rip out the squeaker and kill it. DearKidLoveMom.com/PuppyConversationsAnd you will want all that fur you are so, um, elegantly shedding right now.

Look at the squirrels. No, wait. Scratch that. Do NOT look at the squirrels—you’ll just start barking and miss the point.

The point is that if there WERE squirrels in our yard (you don’t need to check), they would be getting ready for winter. If there were squirrels anywhere (I’m sure there aren’t), they’d be out there storing nuts and sewing little squirrel mittens, not modeling bathing suits and shedding extra fur.

You are going to be unhappy if you’re cold. You are going to wish you’d kept your undercoat.

Winter is coming.

And I am not going to collect all that extra fur and glue it back on you.

No matter how pathetically you stare.

Love, Mom

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Mastiffs, Elephants, the Alps, and a Chihuahua

Mastiffs, Elephants, the Alps, and a Chihuahua

Dear Kid,

Once upon a time (or for all I know, two or three times upon a time) Hannibal was getting ready to cross the Alps.

He decided to take soldiers because they fight better than hairdressers (and everyone knew about Sampson) and elephants (because elephants are well-known for enjoying a romp in the snow—not). “Why not take a dog?” said Hannibal’s friend Flavius (Flavius is Latin for “friend who knows nothing but always gives advice”).

“Um, no,” said Hannibal, picturing a Chihuahua (even though Chihuahuas hadn’t been invented yet).

There are lots of types of mastiff; they are all bigger than you. They are also all furrier than you. It’s possible that they eat more than you (not really). They almost certainly drool more than you. I hope. DearKidLoveMom.comThen Flavius (Latin for “friend who occasionally has a reasonably good idea”) showed Hannibal a mastiff (Latin for “freakin’ huge canine”).

“Holy cow!” said Hannibal who was never really good with animals (see: Elephants and Snow [above]).

So mastiffs marched with Hannibal, the elephants, and the soldiers over the Alps.

On the way, they met (and by “met” I don’t mean “met”) other dogs. Eventually, one of the offspring was born with a barrel of whiskey around its neck and Saint Bernards were invented.

After they crossed the Alps, all the mastiffs got together and agreed that Alp-marching wasn’t anything they were interested in doing again. Ever. In fact, they agreed that most forms of work and/or exercise were worth avoiding, a credo they follow to this day. Do not argue with a mastiff about who gets control of the channel changer.

There are lots of types of mastiff; they are all bigger than you. They are also all furrier than you. It’s possible that they eat more than you (not really). They almost certainly drool more than you. I hope.

Like most dogs, mastiffs are very sweet, delightful creatures. Except when they aren’t (like if they’re being asked to cross the Alps). Always ask the mastiff’s person before saying hello to avoid being its mid-day snack.

Love, Mom

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Puppy Perspective on Breakfast

Puppy Perspective on Breakfast

Dear Kid,

Puppy: Scratch me.
Me: You’ll have to wait a few minutes.
Puppy: Scratch me.
Me: I’m busy. You’ll have to wait a few minutes.
Puppy: Scratch me!
Pi: What are you doing?
Me: Apparently, scratching the Puppy.
Puppy: It’s about time…

 

Me: Would you like breakfast?
Puppy: I’d like to play.
Me: You’d what?
Puppy: Play with me!
Me: You never pass up breakfast. You never pass up any kind of food.
Puppy: Time to mix things up a bit, don’t you think?
Me: I was thinking it’s time for breakfast.
Puppy: Throw the fuzzy pig and no one gets hurt!

I have a new pink pig and I LOVE him! DearKidLoveMom.com/PuppyConversations

Me: OK, OK, we’ll play for a few minutes before breakfast. Here, fetch the purple toy.
Puppy: I love the purple toy! I got it! I got it! Here you go! Throw something else.
Me: Fetch the squeaky donut.
Puppy: I love the squeaky donut! I got it! Throw something else.
Me: Now can we have breakfast?
Puppy: Throw. The. Toy!
Me: Fetch the grey rabbit.
Puppy: I love my rabbit! I love my rabbit! Got it!
Me: Well, bring it back, silly.
Puppy: Don’t be ridiculous. I have to chew it for a while.
Me: I’ll be in the kitchen if you decide to have breakfast.
Puppy: Breakfast? I love breakfast! Why have we been waiting so long?

Love, Mom

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Dog Fight, Snoopy, and Parenting

Dog Fight, Snoopy, and Parenting

Dear Kid,

A friend of mine was in a dog fight. Not the cool, imaginary Snoopy and the Red Baron kind. A real, go to the hospital and have a boatload of stitches kind.

Not the cool, imaginary Snoopy and the Red Baron kind of dog fight. DearKidLoveMom.com

The bad part is that the dogs in question are her dogs. And she kept yelling to the ER docs, “I have to go, my dog is hurt!”

My friend (you don’t know her and she lives in a different part of the country) will be fine. Her dogs (generally very sweet loving creatures) will be fine. I’m not at all sure that I will be fine.

The dogs are big and high energy but well behaved. They live happily in a fenced-in yard where they have plenty of room to run and play. They also have neighbors.

Ill-behaved neighborhood boys.

Badly-behaved local hooligans.

Hoodlums.

Ruffians.

Who—not for the first time—came by the back fence and goaded the dogs into fighting.

Who does that?!!!

My friend has spoken to the boys’ parents. More than once. Apparently, the parents are complete and utter twits because they don’t seem to care (at all) that their boys are mistreating animals.

How clueless are these parents???

My friend is going to talk to them again. She thinks maybe now that she’s been so significantly injured the parents might take notice.

YO! Parents: Lawsuit on the horizon!

But it shouldn’t take the threat of legal action to get parents to raise reasonably behaved children.

Argh!

Sending happy healing thoughts to my friend and her dogs. And hopes that the boys’ parents get their act together before too long.

Love, Mom

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Puppy Conversations | What Happened to My Grass?

Puppy Conversations | What Happened to My Grass?

Dear Kid,

Puppy Conversations DearKidLoveMom.comPuppy: ?
Puppy: ???
Pi: G’morning. Yawn.
Puppy: ?!!!
Pi: What’s wrong?
Puppy: Where’s my grass?
Pi: Your grass?
Puppy: I need my grass.
Pi: Tell me what happened.
Puppy: Mom and I went outside.
Pi: Uh-huh…
Puppy: And Mom started weeding and I started napping.
Pi: Which must have been very cute.
Puppy: I’m always cute
Pi: True. And I looked out the window and saw you napping near the blueberry bushes using the driveway as a pillow. That was especially cute.
Puppy: I am always especially cute.
Pi: Continue with the story.
Puppy: When I woke up, there was no grass!
Pi: There is still lots of grass.
Puppy: Not where Mom was weeding. It was like she peeled a banana!
Pi: A banana?
Puppy: Only just dirt. No banana.
Pi: We don’t grow many bananas around here.
Puppy: We don’t grow much grass around here anymore either.
Pi: What did Dad say?
Puppy: Something about if it makes her happy it makes him happy.
Pi: Wise man.
Puppy: And then he said, “But no flame throwers.” And Mom said she already thought of that but she didn’t want toasted blueberries.
Pi: You can toast blueberries?
Puppy: The way Mom was going, nothing was safe. Not even me!
Pi: What do you mean, not even you?
Puppy: What if Mom decides to weed me?
Pi: She might brush you, but she’s not going to weed you.
Puppy: Are you sure?
Pi: Quite.
Puppy: So what about my grass?
Pi: I think you’re going to have to make due with what’s left.
Puppy: Don’t you think she’ll rip out more?
Pi: Quite probably. But since she’s doing it by hand, it will be slow going.
Puppy: What does that mean?
Pi: It means the weeds will probably grow back in the first area before she finishes weeding the next area.
Puppy: Does “weeds” mean “grass”?
Pi: In this case, yes.
Puppy: Silly Mommy.
Pi: True. Would you like a snuggle?
Puppy: Does Mom weed?
Pi: Not very effectively. Come here you.

Love, Mom

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