Mystery Thief

Last night, I was feeling snacky and decided that I was going to eat my last pilfered Fiber One bar. This one was especially desirable because it was of the Dark Chocolate Almond variety and my mom only let's me have the chocolate chip. I've been hoarding it for weeks and was really looking forward to sinking my teeth into the chocolate covered morsel held together with light caramel and sprinkled with toasted almonds.

As I lay on the bed, I decided it was time to shut the house down. The kiddies had been tended to and were winding down themselves. So I shuffled to the kitchen, put all my dishes in the dishwasher, put up the leftovers, and wiped down all the primary surfaces. I practically skipped back to my room to find my snack was missing.

Appalled, I snarled at the dogs. I cursed them and told them that I hoped they got diarrhea. All I got in return were puzzled looks and a yawn.

Pretty sure I paced my tiny apartment four times looking everywhere. Cabinets. Counters. Table tops. Even the top layer of the trash can (I mean, I wanted this thing but not trash-digging want). Frustrated, I gave up and finished getting ready for the new day. I grabbed my keys out of my coat pocket and threw them in my purse. Right next to my Fiber One bar.

I know one of them hid it from me. It was probably Wilbur.

Giving Up Mommyhood

I have been made the offer of the year!

I could leave behind this city, this state, this "job" and have a place to stay that is reasonably within my budget. It's in a warm city, a big city, a real city. I mean, it's Atlanta, y'all!! How could I not go?

The price, that's how. It would mean that I'm far from all my family (except my 1st step-dad's in-laws but you can see how that would be... messy), all my friends, and my babies. See, my potential roomie has never lived with an indoor dog and since it's their house I can't really put down the proverbial foot.

So, I'm torn. First because this is a HUGE OPPORTUNITY. And I don't want to let this pass me by. But, I don't want to give up my babies, well, just Klea. However, I'm sure she would be unhappy as an outside dog. Or at least I think I'm sure.

There's many other things to think about like getting a job down there.

I'll let you know when I decide... I think.

Looking for Love...

I love the kiddies, I really do, but sometimes a girl rolls over at night and just wants to be able to say, "What are we gonna do?". And that's the situation I found myself in this weekend. I just didn't want to face another weekend alone. Plus, being open to love is on my list of resolutions (12! Ambitious, no?)

Some things are on hold until I can shake the rest of my financial burden (like getting my car fixed), but that has nothing to do with me opening myself up to love, right? So, Saturday, I joined eHarmony. I'm really excited about it. I tried their service once before and had success. I'm sure I would have found The One from their database of users if I hadn't found someone during one of his routine sales calls.

So, I'm giving it another go. I mean, what girl doesn't want to have a boyfriend? Plus, these two make me want to have a wedding soooooooo bad.

found here

Spoiled Rat

I'm low on funds at the moment. At least until tomorrow morning when my check arrives at the bank (Amen for payday!). That means that the brood will have to do without some of their luxuries until then.

Correction: Wilbur will have to do without some of his luxuries until then.

See, he has decided to go on a hunger strike. Everyday, for the last three days, he has tipped his food bowl on to the ground. And I know why. It's because I started out feeding him those simple little guinea pig pellets filled with Vitamin C and that probably taste like cardboard.

His grandmother bought him this gourmet rodent food filled with dried veggies, seeds, and nuts with the occasional wholesome pellet.

On Monday night, Wilbur got a sunflower seed stuck to his two front teeth. I pulled it off and declared that was it. No more gourmet food mix, he was going back to pellets.

He hasn't eaten since.

Who Runs This?

Last night was supposed to be a peaceful night. I got off work early and was looking forward to a leisurely afternoon of picking up, straightening, and - finally - yoga. All was well until yoga.

I set the mood with soft lighting, calming music in the background, the room was a perfect 70 degrees and I stood ready in my flexi clothes and bare feet.

Somewhere around minute 15, the dogs began to wrestle. I chose to ignore them because that's the key to yoga - blocking out the rest of the world. Then around minute 20, I hear snarling but I'm not going to let them do this to me. I deserve some rest.

During minute 24, in between my third deep breath, I'm in downward dog and then get bumped in the left ankle. Frustrated, I look up and then fall to the ground in shock.

Klea is trying her best to run away with Ginger on her back... thrusting... feverishly.

I can't handle it so I yell, "Get off of her!!" and immediately reach for my phone. Obviously, Ginger needs to have a chat with her Momma.

I'm telling you right now, that these two need to work out their issues because it is stressing me the F out.

Caring for Carrion

Klea (see fig. 1) is disgusting.

figure 1

I will help you understand how I have come to this conclusion. Carrion is grotesque (see fig. 2) and that's putting it mildly. Animals that eat carrion are revolting. Animals that roll in it are merely disgusting. Klea enjoys rolling in carrion. And dung. And anything else stinky that requires an immediate bath just to continue residency in my home.

figure 2

Today, I went home for lunch. Mainly because I forgot it on the kitchen table and only live 3 miles away so it's not really a hassle to drive there and eat it. When I walked through the door they got excited and jumped around like they always do. And because they are creatures of habit, everyone instantly had to potty.

We went out without leashes and I let them sniffle and frolick for awhile (I believe everyone deserves a bit of freedom). But while I was preoccupied with picking up Ginger's excrement, I heard snuffles and grunts (which are distinctly different from sniffles and moans), I turn, and there's Klea assuming the position and preparing to rub her face on something dead.

My heart stopped. My lungs opened. And I screamed. It was enough to make her jump up straight and case the area.

Thank God.

Because I couldn't call my boss and tell him I'd be late from lunch because my dog smelled like road kill. Leashing her to the front door would break several laws. And she can't come in the house smelling like that.

Home, Sweet Home

It's official!! Ginger will be staying with us, indefinitely. My sister did find a new place but she will have 2 roommates and she's "never home". So, I agreed to keep Ginger with me. Klea is not too fond of this idea. She rather liked being the Alpha while Ginger was away. And the fact that Ginger is very aggressively seeking to reclaim her role as Alpha has caused some... spiffs. At least Ginger still has her BFF, Wilbur. :)

The terms of the agreement are that sis will give me Ginger's portion of the pet rent, 1/2 the cost of food and the money to keep her groomed and updated with her shots. (I'm not holding my breath on the shot & grooming money).

I'm just glad that it's all settled now. I've been offering to take Ginger on as my own for years now. I'm sure that sis loves her very much, it's just that she never wanted (or fully accepted) the responsibility of having a dog. For her, it was more like a cute accessory than a living mammal with its own unique personality.

So, there you have it, loves. More news on another day.