Throwback Thursday

In honor of my birthday boy who turned 2 years old yesterday, today's Throwback Thursday features Ted as a baby. I love him so much - I didn't realize how empty my life was with out him!

Happy birthday, Ted!!!

Send Me An Angel. One With A Vaccuum.

I woke this morning at 3:30am because feathers were flying into my nose with every breath I took. So in my sleepy daze I blew them out and tried to fall back asleep. But then I realized I had to pee so I got up, went into the bathroom, turned on the light...

and saw an angel.

I was slowly coming out of my slumber haze when I realized I was looking in the mirror. The angel was me. I was covered from the top of my head to the bottom of my shorts in white fuzzy feathers. I couldn't figure out if I was dreaming or awake until I realized I REALLY had to pee - so I must be awake? As I sat, I started thinking, trying to figure out what in the world was going on. When I finished, I walked into my room, turned on the light...and right at that moment I knew exactly what happened.

The f*cking dog chewed a hole in my down comforter.

My ceiling fan was on high, blowing the feathers throughout the air. My floor fan was oscillating across the width of my bed, spreading the feathers across the floor. My poor old kitty Toph was lying next to my pillow, covered in fuzz, with a look on her face that said, "This is your fault. You're the dumbass who wanted a dog." And on the bed, right smack in the middle of a pile of feathers, was Ted. Asleep like a baby Jesus in a feather-lined manger.

Sonofabitch.

I wish I had photos of the fiasco but alas I do not. I still wasn't fully awake and the commotion had awoken Mouth, who had to wake for school in three hours. I was too busy trying to get him back to bed, get the feathers out of my hair, and get the sheet and blanket balled into a pile to trap the feathers, to grab my phone and start shooting.

Everything is still in a balled-up mess in my hallway. I can't deal with it. My room is covered in feathers, and my dog is trottin' around like nothing happened. He's sooooo lucky he's stinking adorable. Little shithead.

Anyone want to come over and clean? I have no money but I make a mean margarita!

The Difference Between Cats And Dogs

On my To-Do List for today: Brushing the teeth of one cat named Moe and one dog named Ted.

Tonight I learned that as long as I kept yelling "Good boy!!!" every 5 seconds, the dog was game.

Me: "Good boy!!!...........Good boy!!!...........Good boy!!!"
Ted: "Keep doing it! I'm a good boy! So whatever this is, I love it!"

I finished ALL of Ted's teeth.

I also learned that the cat does not respond to such encouragement as favorably as the dog.

Me: "Good boy!!!.............Goo-"
Moe: "Shut the f*ck up. I hate you and every single one of your ancestors on both sides of your sociopathic, dysfunctional and mostly bipolar families. You think because your father was a dentist that you can brush MY teeth? Bitch, please. You need to check yourself because you are TWO SECONDS away from having a set of bloody scratches down your cheek. Not get that toothbrush out of my mouth before I shove it down your esophagus, BITCH."

I finished three of Moe's top teeth.

You think I like this? Thursday nights used to be my drinking night until I became responsible for one kid, two cats, and a dog. NOW my Thursday nights consist of fighting the war against plaque.

Ungrateful little shit. Guess who isn't getting soft food when all of his teeth rot out of his head???

When The Cat's Away The Mice Will Play

The last few days have been unbearably hot so we haven't been able to visit the dog park. Therefore, Baby Ted has THE WORST case of cabin fever. Yesterday, he dragged the toilet paper from the bathroom through the kitchen, around the dishwasher TWICE and was heading into the living room when I finally caught up to him. This is seriously worse than Mouth in February after a long, hard winter.

Today was again in the nineties but breezy so I braved the heat (anything more than 90 degrees makes me feel...stabby) and headed for the D.P. (Btw, D.P. stands for 'dog park'-it's code for those of us with pups who have come to recognize the words 'dog park' and must abbreviate it to avoid the BATSHIT CRAZY that ensues when the actual words are spoken.) Ted had so much fun today at the D.P. He played with two ugly poodles and ran his little furry butt off until he was so tired he was running crooked. You know what a busy day at the D.P. means, right?




Oh yeah. PASSED. OUT.

I turned the living room light off because, as a mama, I know I must do ANYTHING to encourage a baby to stay asleep once he crashes. I soon saw a few shadows out of the corner of my eye. Turns out that in our household the old adage "when the cat's away the mice will play" is now "when the annoying puppy is asleep the cats turn NINJA!"

Here's Moe wondering why the HELL his little kitty house was upended during Ted's heat-related house arrest:


And sweet little Toph. She's very old and very wise - and very intelligently infiltrated Doggy Headquarters.

Toph has made herself comfortable in Doggy HQ, and Moe is resting in his (still upended) house. And I used to think my life was boring....

Puppy Lesson Number 2

I think Ted the pup is sexually confused and Moe the cat is gay. Which is OKAY in our household...except for our poor old female kitty Toph. She is still trying to figure out why a dog is humping a cat. And why the cat is okay with it.

And here I thought I'd only be responsible for Mouth's therapy. Now I have to budget for a dog and two cats?

I totally need a good job with benefits. STAT.

Puppy Lesson Number 1

When putting the puppy in a kennel, be sure to pull the blanket completely over the cage. If not, as soon as the puppy and the owner are calm and dozing off to sleep, the cat will saunter over to the exposed kennel door and break out in fluent Dog with, "Nanny nanny boo boo, you retched little fur ball. You think you're all cute and special? KISS MY FREE-ROAMING FELINE ASS."

At which point all hell will break loose.

I Was Always A Cat Person.....Until Teddy

And...................this is why we are probably the proud new owners of a 12-week-old weiner dog. The cats are gonna be PISSED.

More to come tomorrow.