In case anyone is wondering why I haven’t written anything in a while… every time I turn my computer on and sit down to work, this happens. And how can I resist that adorable face?
You can pet me human … but only exactly three times, and not on my belly! What? I don’t care if I’m showing you my belly! It’s off-limits! Oh, and fair warning, if you get cute and try to pet me a fourth time, I will bite the ever-loving sh*t out of you.
Ahhh, you’re a good human. I’ve trained you well. Now, don’t move… I’m comfortable.
So, I may be busy for the next few days. My Acme holes arrived. The would-be villain in me is so excited! Oh sure, they’re a bit asymmetrical, but otherwise still good.
We all know that proud, overly-sharing parent, the one who is amazed their child can do perfectly ordinary things. “My daughter Marjorie can add up to ten!” Your daughter Marjorie is in college, Karen. “Look at little Timmy read this book!” It’s a picture book, Barbara.
If you’re like me, you want to back-end every car sporting a “My Kid is an Honor Roll Student” bumper sticker, and you snicker at the “My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Roll Student.” I have a new bumper sticker: My Super Smart Dog Bit Your Honor Roll Student.
If you ask me, there’s not enough focus on the truly smart animals in our lives. Anyone who thinks animals can’t count has never tried to give three biscuits to a dog who is used to getting four at a time. The internet abounds with videos of horses counting and even if it is a trick of clever training, the idea that a horse can be trained to appear to count is pretty freaking amazing.
Recently, a family member was gushing about her toddler who knew where the pretzels were kept in the house. She even went so far as to surreptitiously record her child in this endeavor to share with the audience. This tiny human marvel could even open the pantry door and get the pretzel jar, but the act of unscrewing the tightly closed lid thwarted her adorably chubby little hands.
Awww, isn’t that cute.
My dog knows where the treats are. He opens the kitchen cabinet, gets his treats, opens the box, and eats his fill. I will admit, he hasn’t quite grasped the idea that cleaning up after himself might be to his advantage. At the least, as I keep explaining to him, it would buy him some time before being found out. I had to put childproof locks on drawers and doors and everything in between to foil my cat, the ne’er-do-well, who is apparently a master locksmith and can open any barrier placed in front of her. So long as she wants whatever is behind it, that is. My friend shakes her head sadly when telling me about her German Shepherd who can unlock door handles, open the door, and go into any room she likes. Baby gates? Pfftt. It’s like you’re not even trying. Cabinets and drawers and off-limit rooms are nothing to these animals, so while I think it’s adorable that your toddler can find the pretzels, I am holding my applause for now.
Don’t get me wrong, I know kids are smart. Heck, I’ve had two kids raise and train me perfectly. I just think it’s funny when over-effusive parents boast about ordinary milestones in a completely unironic way. “Look, she’s only 144 months old and she can recite the alphabet!”
Yeah, Lois, very nice. Can you hold the cat while I call the vet? She opened my locked bedroom door, climbed a ladder, cracked my wall safe, and got into the treats that I thought were for sure out of reach this time. And let me know if you’ve seen the dog, my car keys are missing, and I think he drove down the street to see that damn poodle. Again.
Don’t even get me started on that horse next door who keeps blowing the whistle on my trips to the refrigerator at night; I never should have gotten him binoculars for Christmas.
Someone, who shall remain nameless (*cough* Shaylee *cough cough*), seems to think that by being cute and kinda sorta not bitey for the few days before Christmas means Santa will forget everything that happened earlier this year.
Like the power cord that mysteriously chewed itself up, and the new power cord that chewed itself up in memory of the first one, or the dog who has bite marks on the top of his head … okay, well, that one was deserved. But what about the thumb drive that suddenly went missing because a certain four-legged someone likes to steal small, shiny things? What about that, I ask!? Or the broken hair dryer because someone just had to knock it off the sink because no-one would turn the water on?
Yeah, Santa indeed. You’ll be lucky if good ol’ Krampus doesn’t pay you a visit at this point.
Oh, who am I kidding? No-one can resist that face, even Santa.
As I sit humoring myself with the laser pointer thingy, the ne’er-do-well thinks I’m hilarious. Or she’s completely done with the shenanigans and is finally going to give in to her long-suppressed demonic urges and suck my blood. Knowing her, it could go either way. It really all depends on how her day went.