Just The Two of Us

All Charged Up

Yesterday was the annual "let's get the motorcycle out and moving" day.  Oh, and more importantly, it was RW's birthday (Happy birthday, RDub!).  The weather was a beautiful, warm almost-summer day, and we needed to take advantage of it.

Those who have been reading this blog for a long time know that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier likes to ride on the bike with us.  For a visual on how this works, look here. Anyway, RW doesn't particularly like the baby carrier thing, as ZeketheFreakRatTerrier is squashed between us (and for those who are wondering, it's more about our discomfort than the dog's.  I know - we are awesome pet owners).  So he's been mulling over other options for the past year, and apparently yesterday was the day to implement.  He spent a couple of hours on a "Zeke" carrier that attaches to the rack on the "trunk" of the bike, and then called me outside when he was ready to try it out.

He slipped on Zeke's x-small harness (Zeke, I'm sure, is sensitive to his size.  Don't tell him I mentioned the x-small.  He already has a complex) and secured him inside the carrier, which is open at the top for him to stick his head out and direct traffic.  More like stop traffic, but I digress.  I was instructed to stand at the end of the driveway and see how ZeketheFreakRatTerrier reacts to this recent turn of events.

As it turned out, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier loved it.  No problems.  When RDub cruised back into the driveway, I told him the three of us should go for a little spin.  I rummaged through the truck (one of the 5 vehicles and 3 trailers currently in our driveway.  2 people live here.  It's a little over the top.) for Zeke's Doggles and helmet.  We met back at the motorcycle, ready to do some summer livin'.

RDub turned over the engine.  Clickclickclickclickclickclick.  Dead battery.  Thus started a 35 minute adventure to charge the battery.  RW first tried to jump it with an extra battery he had - trying to avoid the hassle of finding the real jumper cables.  No such luck.  He fished around the trunk of the Buick and pulled out the jumper cables and attached one end of them to the engine of the Buick.  There wasn't a lot to attach them to on the bike, so that started a frustrating cycle of attempting to connect them, trying the engine, and getting the whole clickclickclickclickclickclick thing.

He tried several different ways of attaching them.  Nothing.  Nada. More clickclickclickclickclick.  Meanwhile, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier was still harnessed into his carrier, and not impressed with the delay.  I was getting hungry for lunch.  RW was getting frustrated about the clickclickclickclick thing happening.

In a stroke of... genius, RW disappeared into the house and reappeared with the keys to the Buick.  He slid into the driver's seat and turned over the engine.  Click.  Not even clickclick.  Just click. 

Thankfully(?) we had 3 other vehicles to choose from, and 2 minutes later we were roaring to life and ready to ride.

Thus said, may I be so bold to suggest that when one needs to jump a battery, one doesn't use a dead battery to do so?  You may have better luck with a live one... just saying.

Naughty and Nice

I just have to say it to get it off my chest, as perhaps I'll start to feel better.  Or generate some empathy from someone.  Neither is particularly likely, but I'm going for it anyway.  Are you ready?  Ok, here goes.  Our dog has been particularly naughty lately.

Shocking, I know.  Surely ZeketheFreakRatTerrier is just the most well-behaved dog ever, right?  Ha.  I look at people in confused disbelief whenever I hear what an obedient dog we have.  I suppose it must be similar to my friends who leave their kids in our care, only to be slightly suspicious of our honesty when we inform them that they were perfect angels.  I'm guessing that dogs, like children, know when to put on the halos. ZeketheFreakRatTerrier knows when to take it off, as well.

Don't believe me?  Let me give you some examples, and you can judge for yourself.

Last week at my mom and dad's house, Zeke acted like he wanted to climb onto "Grandpa's" lap, which my dad positively loves.  However, it was all a guise.  He was using him to get to his spritz Christmas cookies, sitting on a plate next to my dad, looking positively scrumptious.  ZeketheFreakRatTerrier knows perfectly well that this is not acceptable behavior.  He actually glanced in my direction to see if I was watching him, and then started inching closer and closer to those cookies, keeping an eye on me the whole time.  Lovely.

Then we have the little issue of our yard.  Our yard does not live up to ZeketheFreakRatTerrier's standards. He prefers the neighbors yard.  Or really, any yard that is not ours.  We thought we had fixed that little problem with an electric fence, and it did work for quite some time, but this past week we kept finding him beyond the range of the fence.  Last night was pretty much the last straw, as I went outside to find him not only outside the range of his fence, but actually inside our neighbor's fenced yard.  Again, lovely.

As it turns out, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier was getting shocked, he just didn't care.  I took it upon myself to tighten up his shock collar and also crank up the degree of "shock" that he was receiving.  I'm happy to report that he is back on his very best behavior.

I think ZeketheFreakRatTerrier understands when he's gone a little too far, because he'll take it upon himself to do something to get himself back into my good graces.  A few nights ago I was sitting at the computer in our library.  Zeke's dog bed is just through the door in the dining room, perhaps 6 feet from where the computer is, and within sight.

Now, Zeke really prefers to be in the same room.  He's a pack dog, and we're his pack.  He didn't appreciate being in the dining room when I was in the library.  Don't get me wrong, he is not confined there - he could have walked over any time he wanted and plopped down at my feet. However, he prefers to sleep on his dog bed.  This presented a dilema for poor ZeketheFreakRatTerrier.  He wished to be with me, yet he also wanted his creature comforts.  So he took it upon himself to solve this little problem on his own.

He decided that his little 10 lb dog body should be able to move the bed into the room, and he gave it his best shot:

However when it became stuck in the door frame, he must have realized his limitations and gave up.  Or, he decided that he was now officially in the same room as myself and called it good.  Either way he momentarily made me forget how irritated I was with him.  I may have even laughed.

So yes, while ZeketheFreakRatTerrier is very naughty, he is on occasion, pretty nice as well.  I suppose he can stay for awhile longer.

 

Lost and Found

The last time that RW and I were in California, ZeketheFreatRatTerrier stayed home.  Ok, he's stayed home every time we've gone to California, as I have yet to get up my nerve to actually take him on an airplane.  I have visions nightmares of him crying, yelping, and putting up a generally loud fuss from under that seat in front of me, earning me dagger stares from the other 300 people forced to sit, crammed together in a flying metal tube for 4 hours.  Since I am so far unwilling to subject myself to such scrutiny, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier stays grounded.

The last few years since Karen and Nathan moved out to the country, ZeketheFreakRatTerrier has enjoyed country life while we've vacationed.  Never mind that Karen generally can't stand dogs (she claims she can tolerate ZeketheFreakRatTerrier).  Unfortunately, this general arrangement may soon be ending.

RDub and I were climbing the hills outside of Fresno chugging along towards Yosemite in our rental car when my phone rang:

Karen: "Ummm, hi. [long pause]   Does RW have his phone with him?  Is it on?"

Me: [immediately suspicious] "Yeesssss... why?" [do I really want to know?]

Karen: "Well.....[another long pause] we can't find Zeke, and I know the number on his tags goes to RW's phone."

Me: [sitting up straighter] "What do you mean you can't find Zeke?  When did you see him last?"

Karen: "At least a few hours ago."

Me: [trying to keep my voice nonchalant] "A few hours ago? He hasn't shown back up yet?"

Meanwhile RW pipes up from the driver's seat.. "He probably got hit by a car."  He says this very matter-of-factly.  Oh thank you RDub, for putting THAT thought in my mind.

I hand the phone over to RW and turn my head so he can't see that I actually have uh.. tears... running down my cheeks at the absolute certainty that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier is now dead on the side of the gravel road, swarmed by flies.  And perhaps sniffed by squirrels, the ultimate disgrace for ZeketheFreakRatTerrier.  Again RW, thanks for putting THAT thought in my mind.

As RDub confers with Karen on the best places to look for him ("are there any animals or other dogs at nearby farms?"), my mind starts to adjust to life without my dog.  I know, it's a defect that I have - clamping onto the worst-case scenario as if it were already reality.  Just ask my mother.

RW hangs up and Karen loaded up the 4 kids into the van to go look for the dog.  My dog.  Yeah - that sounds like a fun time for her, doesn't it?  I can't lie, I was feeling just as bad for Karen having to drive up and down the roads with her kids, looking for a dog that's not even hers, as I was for me, losing my lovely dog to a car vs. dog encounter.  Again, RW, thanks for putting THAT thought in my mind.

My phone rang again soon thereafter. My heart pounded as I reached for it, trying to prepare myself to hear about the lifeless dog on the side of the road, swarmed by flies and sniffed by squirrels.

"FOUND HIM!"  Karen sounded relieved.

Suddenly, COLOR came BACK into my word.  Music RANG from the hills.  Angels APPEARED in the sky.  Ok, not really.  That would be really... disturbing for an event involving a dog.

Apparently ZeketheFreakRatTerrier has discovered that at the farm next door, there are several other dogs to visit.  When Karen first found him, he actually refused to get into her van with her.  He turned and trotted back to his friends. I know.  My dog has no shame, whatsoever.

Well I suppose I can't get upset.  After all, one gets what they pay for, right?  Perhaps if Karen starts charging and I start paying, things will go better.  However, Karen and I don't ever pay each other for services rendered.  Childcare (me) and dogcare (her) and a multitude of other things ("Can you whip up a batch of Chicken Noodle Soup or baked spaghetti, or go to the grocery store for me" etc. etc. from both of us)  If we started charging, it would turn our friendship into a business relationship.  Oh - and take all the fun out of serving each other as needed.  That's what friends are for, right?

And as for ZeketheFreakRatTerrier?  He can no longer be trusted to roam free in the country.  Obedience is one virtue that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier lacks.  Severely lacks.  Some (read, RW) would say that's my fault.  But I think I'll leave that for another post.  And for the record... ZeketheFreakRatTerrier's tags now sport my phone number along with Karen's, as I'm guessing I'm not going to be the one losing him.

Happy Happy Halloween

Ok, I'm not really sure why I'm even dedicating a post to Halloween, it's not as if we even really celebrate it.  It's all we can do to stay downstairs with the lights on, ready and willing to hand out candy to the little Harry Potter's, Spidermen, and Angry Birds who are brave enough to knock on the door.

However, were we to celebrate Halloween, I'm fairly certain that the only one in our house to dress up would be ZeketheFreakRatTerrier, and he not by choice, if you catch my drift.  Actually not by RW's choice either, but I think it's a little funny.  I'm like that.  

So we just have one thing to say to you today:

HAPPY...

HALLOWEEN!

And get me OUT of this thing...

Right this instant.

...Or I shall either give you rabies

...Or sting you with my mighty stingers.

Thank you.  And if you are sensing in my eyes that I may hold a grudge, you would not be wrong.

Fritos, Fish and Snuggles

The other night I was going about my usual business - making dinner, cleaning up, folding laundry - you know - the normal stuff of life.  I noticed that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier was following me around everywhere, like he needed something. That dog was stuck on me like super-glue, gazing up at me with woeful and pathetic eyes.

I thought this was odd but he didn't appear sick, so I kept on.  I'd walk from the bathroom to the bookcase, all of 1 foot, and ZeketheFreakRatTerrier would move with me, sitting down and staring at me when I stood still, and then inching forward to get as close as he could to my leg. He kept this up for a couple of hours.

I finally finished all I needed to do, and flopped down on the chair.  Before I could even get The Best Blanket Ever unfolded over my legs, the dog had jumped and snuggled right into me, sighing with doggy contentment and not a little of that bad doggy breath.  Kind of ruined the moment for me, but whatever.  I suppose I can put up with Fritos-smelling paws and fish breath for a few minutes, if it makes my oddly-needy dog happy.

ZeketheFreakRatTerrier seemed just fine once he had snuggled into me and The Best Blanket Ever, all previous neediness disappearing.  It finally dawned on me that this is why he had been following me around - he wanted me to sit down so he could partake of The Best Blanket Ever, since The Best Blanket Ever is not available to him without me.

I commented to RW that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier just appeared to need some snuggle time.

RW replied from one room away:

"Well, [like, duh?] animals need snuggles too, you know."  Apparently he would know, being the Animal Science major in the house.  Before I could say anything, he added, "Except Rhinoceros's.  They don't need to snuggle."

Okaaay, then, RW.  Glad to see you know your animals.  Good to put your schooling to work.. nicely done.  And meanwhile, I'm going to keep that fish breath and Frito paws off my blanket for as long as I can.  ZeketheFreakRatTerrier can feel free to snuggle in his own bed.  At least until the next time he asks.  For sure until then.

Yes Peas.

A few weeks ago ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier and I were visiting my mom and dad.  ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier is a smart dog, whenever we are in the kitchen, he also is planted there just waiting... waiting for some delicious morsel to drop on the floor, should he be so lucky.  

I may add here, that he's always lucky when my dad is around.  He parks himself next to his chair at the kitchen table, attaching his eyes on him as if the two of them were connected by an invisible string of  super glue.  My dad, kind-hearted as he is, and with his judgement ever-so-slightly skewed by the awful disease of Alzheimer's, feeds him regularly.  This is particularly funny to me, as back in my growing-up years, my very proper father would have been positively mortified to watch someone doing what he's now doing.  He's mellowed in his aging years, and it's endearing.

He sneaks him SunChips (a favorite of ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier, come to find out), parts of his Subway sandwich, perhaps a meatball here or there, you know - whatever.  One lunch he asked my mom to just put the SunChip bag on the floor, so Zeke can eat all that was left.  My mom, oddly enough, declined the request.

It was just before such a lunch that my mom and I were preparing some food.  Zeke was in his usual location, right at our feet, staring up at the counter intently.  I was laughing, watching my mom pour some frozen peas into a serving dish, and telling Zeke "Trust me on this... pretty sure you wouldn't like peas anyway."

Right about then, an entire clump of frozen peas shot out of that bag and into the dish, dispersing many other peas onto the kitchen floor.  As I bent down to start searching for lost peas, the dog went crazy.  He slurped up one pea.  He slurped up another couple.  My hand, reaching for 4 or 5 peas was practically detached from my arm, as he beat me to them.  He zipped around that kitchen flicking peas into his mouth like a Dyson dressed up like a rat terrier on Halloween.  My mom and I watched in amazement.

"He likes peas?" My mom asked with some amusement.

"Uhh, who knew?  I mean really, who knew?"

We stared at him for a few moments longer, and then got back to the meal preparation.  The peas were soon forgotten, probably replaced by a meatball and a few SunChips, who knows.  I didn't really think about it again until a couple of days later, when like my mother, I too was pouring frozen peas into a bowl.

ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier came running into the kitchen at full speed, and screeched to a halt at my feet.  In a moment of perfect timing, a pea was just rolling off of the counter.  I grabbed at it, but it was too late.  It landed on the floor in front of ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier.  Never.in.my.life. have I seen such a commotion from that dog.  He went wild.  He snatched the pea and then started begging for more.  Twirling in circles.  Jumping as high as he can.  Barking. Crying. Howling.

Wondering if this could possibly be for real - could my idiot (I say lovingly, of course) dog love peas? -  I held a spoonful of peas within his vision.  Repeat the wild, crazy and very loud act he was putting on.  I set the spoon back down and went to the pantry for a bona-fide dog treat - a real one.  I then picked up the peas again and dumped some on the kitchen floor, along with the dog treat.  I kid you not, he went for the peas.  What dog likes peas?  Apparently, mine does.

So will I be trading out my real dog treats for peas?  I do believe I will.  Can you feed ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier your vegetables?  Yes, peas!  Go right ahead, I won't tell.

Best Buddies

This is Zeke here, guest posting again.  This week I want to tell you about one of my bestest buddies.  Every week She (I'd call her my mom, but I've heard her say she doesn't like that.  Something along the lines of me being a dog and her not being a dog)  and I go for a very long car ride.

I always know we are going for a car ride because She gets that thing she calls a "handbag", my leash, and her car keys, and then looks at me.  I get very excited, because I usually know where we are going. I like going there, even if I do have to sit in that car for an hour.  It seems like longer, especially since I can't see out the windows as well as I can in the truck.  Usually I try to get Her to drive faster by whining and crying and giving her pathetic looks.  It doesn't work, but I'll keep at it.  Someday she will cave, I know that about Her.  When the whining and crying doesn't work, I'll stick my nose under her arm, trying to flip it up so she will pet and comfort me in my car-trial.  Unfortunately I get yelled at when I do that, something about it being dangerous and don't I understand she's driving, yada yada yada.

But eventually the car-trial is all worth it, because we get to my friend's house.  I actually have 2 friends that live there (I'm quite popular like that) and I like them both very much.  She calls one of them Mom, but I prefer to call her Grandma.  Grandma always puts Cheerios in a bowl for me to eat.  I do enjoy that. It's considerably better tasting than the dog food She feeds me every day.  When I run out of Cheerios, Grandma always pours me more and talks very nicely to me.  It's such a breath of fresh air to finally be treated with the respect that I deserve.

Anyway, once Grandma is done talking nicely to me and showing me my Cheerios, I run down to the basement to choose a toy or three. I need to have a toy because my bestest buddy will throw it to me.  Once I get the toy, I run over to Grandpa, the friend I'm really there to see.  Grandpa loves me.  I know that Grandpa struggles with his memories - I think he's lost most of them.  I would think he'd be able to find them again, but She and Grandma get sad when they talk about it, so I guess he can't.  Although Grandpa has trouble remembering most other things, he always remembers me, even my name!  Like I said, I'm popular like that.  I do make an impression!

When I get tired out from playing with the toy or three, I know that I can always rest on Grandpa's lap:

 
When I've regained enough strength to flip over, Grandpa will rub my belly, like a good friend does:

 
So now perhaps you can understand why Grandpa day is my favorite day of the week.  Cheerios, toys, and belly rubs.  Life just doesn't get any better than that.

Until next time,

ZeketheFreakRatTerrier

Hanky-Panky

The other night I let ZeketheFreakRatTerrier out for his nightly before-bed outside ritual.  Seeing as he gets zapped if he wanders outside of his perimeter, I left him out there alone and went back into the house. Several minutes later I heard him crazy-barking.  I bolted out of the house, hoping he wasn't terrorizing some poor soul who had the sheer audacity to use the sidewalk in front of our house.

Reaching the front yard, I saw what he was barking at.  Our dog was seriously defending his territory from coyotes owls neighborhood dogs squirrels rabbits fireflies.  ZeketheFreakRatTerrier wanted those fireflies gone.

I hushed him, and then stared at the summertime wonder of fireflies, remembering when  we used to catch them and feed them to frogs, just to see the frog's insides light up.  I'd like to tell you that happened when I was 9 or 10, but I'd be lying.  It was during college.  I could tell you that it was for a college biology class, but I'd be lying then, too.  It was strictly for fun.

So I stood for awhile and enjoyed the show in our yard, and then called the dog to go back inside.  As I was turning to open the door, something under the truck caught my eye.  I stared, willing my eyes to decipher the object despite the darkness of the evening.  That's when I realized that there is some serious hanky-panky going on in the neighborhood:

 
Bunnies.  All huddled together and allowing me to stare and take pictures of them.

I was so glad to see that ZeketheFreakRatTerrier didn't see had a soft heart for the bunnies and left them alone, a foot from where he was standing.  The fireflies flying 5 feet over his head were, however, obviously completely unacceptable.  Go figure.

Getting an Earful

My name is ZeketheFreakRatTerrier, and I am guest-posting today, mainly to tell you a sad tale of long-term abuse and neglect.  I could go back many, many years, but in the interest of time, I'll stick to the past 10 months - the worst months of my long, distinguished and let's face it, good-looking life.

It all started last September, when my family (I'll call them family, but really you should know that I consider the girl to be my own personal pet) went on our annual camping expedition to the Black Hills.  I do look forward to this every year - 2 weeks outside - is there anything better?  It started out very nicely... they finally listened to me and drove the truck instead of that other... thing they drive.  I like the truck.  I have more space than the 2 of them, and as an added bonus, I can see right out the windows.

Anyway, it's a long trip, and we stopped several times to hook the truck up to something - I'm not sure what it was but I know that I peed on it, so that was good.  At one of the stops, my master (the boy, NOT the girl - who as you may remember, I consider my pet) let me run around in a field of long grass.  It was the best.  I sniffed here, I sniffed there. Pretty much I sniffed anything that didn't smell like them, and that made me happy. 

However... something happened in this field of long grass that altered the course of the next 10 months.  Something slipped quietly into my ear, like a snake sneaking up on his unsuspecting victim.  Have you seen my ears?  They are quite renowned and I can understand why something would wish to investigate their fame:

 

So anyway, this thing got into my ear.  And it hurt.  It didn't hurt too bad until we got settled into our tent in the Black Hills, but then it really kicked in.  I tried to tell, them.. I really did.  But she thinks I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, as it seems I do fall ill every time we camp.  I contend that has something to do with the bacon grease he feeds me, but no one seems to listen.  And I like it, so I am not going to complain about that too much.

The following conversation happened about 72 times in the next 2 weeks:

ME: [shriek bark whine] "There is SOMETHING in my ear, GET IT OUT!"

HER: [trying to pet me] "It's ok Zekey-Zeke!  What's wrong? [stop PETTING me and GET THIS OUT OF MY EAR!]

HER: "Babe - what's wrong with the dog, he keeps yelping and clawing at his ear."

HIM: "Something probably crawled down there, let me grab and pull and yank it and peer down it with my flashlight  - maybe I'll see something."

Ok, he didn't really say that, but that is what he did.  Approximately 72 times.  And all 72 times he reported that he didn't see anything.  Well, I can tell you (and let's face it, I've been TRYING to tell you) that there is indeed, something down there, and when you touch my ear, it HURTS.  So, GET IT OUT.

This cycle continued throughout our 2 week vacation, positively almost ruining the whole thing for me - the very thing I look forward to all year long.  I say almost, because there was that one night that they let me out of the tent and I didn't have my tags on that jingle-jangle so I didn't make any noise.. and I was able to wander about the campground undetected for about 45 minutes - it was heaven!  I just rolled my eyes and lifted my leg every time I heard him trying to whisper-call me.  Trust me, I was stealth without my jingle-jangles.

Fast-forward 8 or 9 months.  8 or 9 months of ear pain.  I'm not sure why they didn't get a clue, as everytime someone touched my ear,  I screamed in pain and simultaneously told them to GET IT OUT and DON'T TOUCH MY EAR.  Mixed messages, I know.  They finally took heed (granted, I would go a month or two pretending it didn't bother me, and then start right back up, so I was playing with them a bit) and took me to the doctor.

Initially, I liked this doctor.  His name is Dr. Wag - what dog of my kind wouldn't like him?  But then he started digging around in my ear, and I didn't like him anymore.  Not only did he dig around in my ear, but he DIDN'T GET IT OUT, and then he had the nerve to offer me a treat.  Puhleeze.

So she had to bring me back in so they could... I'd say "put me to sleep", but that has slightly negative connotations for me... put me under so Dr. Wag could dig down my ear without me screaming at him.  And finally.. sweet relief.  When I woke up again, I had NO ear pain!  I couldn't believe it!

Come to find out, my pain - my complaining all these months, was justified.  I had a cedar tree seed POKING into my ear drum. Yes, that's right.  My eardrum. 

I hope this is a lesson to all of you, mainly them.  If I SAY my ear hurts, it really does hurt.  And please don't wait 10 months to get it out, and please find a way to get it out without actually touching my ear.  You could work on that, and I'd be happy.  Happy as a dog .... running free in a campground in the middle of the night.  Or playing with a ball in the water.  Yeah, that.

 

Random Tidbits on ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier

I bet you have been wondering what ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier has been up to lately.  Yes, I'm sure it's just been at the top of your mind, my dog.  Therefore, I thought I'd give you just a miniature update.  Get it?  Miniature, just like Zeke (hey, it's Tuesday night, can't do much better on a Tuesday).

Last week RDub and I just came home from work and ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier was dancing around at the door, as is his normal behavior at 5p. I affixed his "Attempt to Leave the Yard and You Will Get Zapped" collar, and let him out.

RW: "You did let him out this morning before work, didn't you?"

ME: [confused] "No, why would I?  That's your job in the morning."

RW: "Well, I thought you didn't work today."

ME: "Uhh, yes, I worked, why?"

RW: "Hmm. I didn't think you worked, so I didn't let the dog out."

ME: "YOU DIDN'T LET THE DOG OUT THIS MORNING?"

RW: [looking slightly sheepish] "No... like I said, I didn't think you worked."

ME: "What does that have to do with anything? You ALWAYS let the dog out in the morning."

RW: "Not this morning."

Yes, it's true. We are officially the worst dog owners in history.  Poor ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier went out at 8:30p the night before, and not again until 5p the next day.  Gotta feel just a little bad about that.

On a more disgusting note (this one tops the scales, so if you are 1) squeamish or 2) about to eat dinner or 3) just ate dinner, take note. You may not wish to read on), we were at Karen & Nathan's on Wednesday night, which is the weekly routine.

Keira, their 2-yr-old, was running about naked (see previous post) in the living room, where we were watching Survivor.  I glanced at her, and then gave a start (as they say).  Something ...greenish.. was departing her little butt cheeks.

ME: "KAREN - she has to GO.  NOW!" [little Keira is potty-training]

Karen rushed her into the bathroom: "Hurry, Keira!  Come on - hurry up!! Go to the potty!"

A few minutes later Karen emerged from her parental duties.

Karen: "Just so you know... Keira didn't quite make it to the bathroom, and your DOG ate it up."

[puke. gag. heave.]

Karen: [standing, with paper towels in hand] "Yes. Yes he did.  He ate it.  Made my job easier, anyway."

[puke. gag. heave.]

I. have. no. words. to excuse that behavior from ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier.  And as we were leaving, Keira was one again roaming about naked, previous issue... disposed of.  And where was ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier?  Roaming about just behind her, trying to lick up those little butt cheeks.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

puke. gag. heave.