I seem to be developing a new vocabulary now that pup is here. Using words like fuzzbutt, bugger and gremlin to describe my bitey little bat eared furball. With “No.! Don’t eat the bloody dandelions.!” becoming a more commonplace turn of phrase often heard around my local neighbourhood, along with a lamented “Why do you have to eat bloody EVERYTHING.?!!” Dear God.
Never in my entire previous life did I think I would ever have to ask a dog what in the hell he thought he was playing at… the kids yes, the dog no. Every dog I’ve previously had the pleasure to be friends with and the cats I’ve been given the honour of serving, have been well mannered, respectful, considerate and calm. This rapidly growing ball of razor sharp teeth and claws from the depths of hell has no such conscience. Everything is fair game and nothing is sacred.
Lockdown is a real bitch. We can’t sign him up for puppy training until it’s over and it’s looking like we’re going to be locked down until early June.! I’m not sure I’m going to have the requisite number of limbs by then and even less sure pup’s going to have the requisite number of teeth.! I have yet to find an effective deterrent for his destructive chewing… and believe it, when I do I’m bathing in that shit.!!
Yesterday we gave the little hooligan a break from sitting in his crate for a few hours while we sorted out the cellar. Today, he was back in it as I wanted to go through some of my boxes and ditch stuff that I’ve hoarded too long. Stuff like photos of my ex that I had no idea I still had… Bear wouldn’t let me burn them (spoilsport), so I ripped them into tiny little pieces instead.
I found all my old college and Adult Education certificates and got rid… they’re decades old and wouldn’t do me a damned bit of good over here anyway. I shed a few tears at finding my eldest son’s (25) first baby shoes and smart outfit that I’ve kept since he grew out of it. I still remember him in that outfit, so tiny and so lovely and now he’s a dark humoured, sarcastic cynic who hates everyone and everything and has commitment issues.
I’m honoured that he still loves me. I’m in a very small minority. I also found two of my old ball gowns that I bought to wear to Military balls back in the 2000’s and discovered they still fit me and nicely too.! 😀 And my old tiara. I intend to wear it everyday to prove that I am indeed a princess. Bear used to tell me I was when we were all loved up and soppy with each other. Not that we’re not now, just not so much. Too damned tired.
It seems I need to anyway, because my halo keeps slipping and people laugh when I tell them I’m an angel. I actually am, my passport says so. 🙂 I guess it’s all the lamenting and frustrated sighs and long suffering looks they see on my face when I go on walkies with Cerberus.
Dear Diary... 
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