Chewy has been particularly unimpressed with us lately.
|One of 2 neatly piled peas…sans Wasabi.|
|Chewy’s other pea pile…which he sniffed and left.|
I’m not terribly sorry about that incident, you know. Dogs should stay the fuck out of human snacks.
Episode V: The Wampa Strikes Back
I’m somewhat more guilty (a little) about this week’s humiliation. If you didn’t know, Great Pyrenees grow two coats: one almost like down close tot he skin to regulate body temperature (it’s actually somewhat insulating against heat in the summer as well as heating in winter, which doesn’t count in Texas since “winter” is a big fat fucking LIE). The second is the super-long, waterproof, leaf/dirt/salamander carrying outer coat, which pretty much 1) turns him into a polar bear and 2) leaves 5″ long fine hair everywhere. Also, did I mention bugs and lizards? Both have hitched a ride from the yard into the house on Choo Choo Chewy.
Anyway, we finally broke down and bought a set of clippers after the last incident at the groomers (nobody wants to discuss THAT horrible event), and Husband spent about three hours Sunday shaving the fluff down to an acceptable length. As you can see, someone was less than thrilled with us.
|I fucking HATE you right now.|
I don’t feel guilty for hte shave…I DO feel guilty that after getting rid of the mats he inevitably grows behind his ears I talked Husband into grabbing theear wash and drops (Chewy gets chronic ear infections). My big teddy bear was comfortably snoozing with his ear exposed like a damn fool, and I washed AND dropped it before he could get away.
Afterward, he stayed 20 feet away from both of us, harrumphing in a corner and glaring accusingly at us both. FINALLY!! I’m always the bad guy, people: this is the first time Husband’s received the death-of-1000-suns stare. It’s about damn time.
|We found six Wampas in this pile…and an arm.|
Episode VI: Return of the Dishbreaker
Remember how my fuckface dogs have broken almost every glass in my house, and we had to buy plastic cups? We have some coffee mugs left…so far. Yesterday, I came home to this:
|I like your cocoa mug. I left it here so you’d know I WANT SOME.|
Yup, that’d be my hot cocoa mug from the day before (my fault: I left it on the couch table). Notice the SPOON is still in it, the mug was carefully not dropped on the tile from the couch to the door, and Mr. “I like this smell” had fully licked clean any remnants from the bottom of the cup. Sigh. Do you see remorse there?
Yeah. Me neither. Welcome to my dog.