Playground Uprising


CRAP
May 21, 2010, 2:39 am
Filed under: pets | Tags: , ,

 

I unlock the back gate. Peer in. Certain of a crime scene. A glance to the left, right, behind the fountain, and a peer into the monkey grass. Clear? Could it be? I stroll up the stairs with a mild, smug smirk of victory creeping out of the left side of a grin and crap. No literally –  I mean CRAP. There it is. Right past the door towards the back of our upper patio. We have a basset hound. Her name is Sydney. She likes to crap on hard surfaces – like the sidewalk in front of the neighbor who just admired her supreme longitude or in the alley – next to the sign that says “no dogs allowed” but most often – strategically  upon my patio in distinct places that make unbeknownst guest swear we have acquired modern art due to it perfected placement. I have hosed water, sprayed chemicals, and sprinkled pepper as blogger 227 suggested, but still she stands her ground and soils mine.

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Tigger
February 21, 2007, 1:41 pm
Filed under: Family, Life, pets

 Last night I started to read John Grogan’s book Marley and Me.

If you have a dog, have had a dog, or have the slightest inclination that a four legged friend may bound into your home for a little redecorating, READ THIS BOOK.

Last night Marley was learning how to heal, and per the advice of a disobedient dog obedience trainer (do they have one of these for kids???), was doing it through friendly reminders doled out by a choke collar, and though the tightening brought about momentary lapses of compliance, the lessons were quickly forgotten as the reminder retracted.

We do not have a dog. But we did. Her name was Tigger. And she sat at the pinnacle of divine.

Tigger passed on at the age of fourteen, but not before she accompanied me through roommates and college, waited for us to return from our honeymoon in New York, and then served as support in both brawn and wagged encouragement for Mac as he learned to walk.

She is gone now, but her pictures are in my office, on our refrigerator, and in my memories, and each night as the boys say their prayers we ask God to look after her in heaven, and I have not doubt she is waiting for us to come home.