Pud (aka Princess Chocolate Pudding. I did not name her, I swear) usually just poops in the carrier. Every time. It’s very off-putting. I swear it’s just a Ted-Nugent-Vietnam-draft-dodging kind of attempt to make us so disgusted that we never put her in it ever again, but it hasn’t worked yet. I’m tempted, though…
Macy and Scraps, on the other hand, are perfectly behaved once you get them in the carrier. It’s the actual getting them into the carrier that causes massive cursing and (when they had front claws) a great deal of pain.
I used the trapped-in-the-bathroom method. I can pick Khan up and tote him wherever I want, so once I get him in the bathroom, I can close the door and he has no means of escape, nor any furniture to hide under. That’s usually when he realizes he’s in trouble.
Back when I used to occasionally color my hair for giggles, I guess I got lucky. My natural color is a light brown/dark blond, and I would occasionally go red(-ish). Miss Clairol #110 Light Auburn, to be specific. It was fairly close to my natural color, so as it faded, you couldn’t see a whole lot of difference between the fading red and the natural blondish brown. So when I decided I didn’t want red(-ish) any longer, it was easy to let it go.
My darling child, whose hair is just a wee bit darker than mine, decided to dye hers black. It wasn’t flattering at all. But it’s just hair and she’s an adult - what ya gonna do? It’s going back to natural, which makes me happy. I thought her hair was very pretty.
I’ve got a big batch of sketty sauce simmering. The house smells yummy!
Rue, I think my vet can make his own boat payment. Mr. Puss is now happily sleeping on FCD’s fleece jacket while FCD is snoozing on the couch. Such a dynamic household I live in…
We generally have to double-team Mr. Puss - if he sees the carrier, he hides, plus he HATES being picked up. So I’ll usually stage the carrier while FCD gets the cat. By the time he figures it out, it’s too late. Perhaps the pukes are delayed retribution??
HEE! Rue’s story reminds me of a story about my dearly departed critter, a cocker spaniel named Jake. Ok, a couple stories that are funny. Y’all remember that I had a partner who decided to leave me for a better life that didn’t turn out to be so much better. (HAH!) Well, he took Jake with him to the grocery store one time. After buying groceries he decided to go by KMart for just a minute. So, with groceries tucked away waaaay back in the Blazer so Jake couldn’t get at 'em (so he thought), he went into KMart. When he came back out, Jake had located and begun to feast upon a small picnic ham. It was a lean ham. Jake was calorie and fat conscious like that. HEE! I let Jake have most of the rest of the ham a little bit at a time for about a week.
Story number two. Again with the ex. (HAH!) Ok, a little background. See, I have a good friend who was the manager of a McDonald’s at one time. Whenever I’d go through the drive through with Jake and Steve was working, he’d give Jake a cheeseburger at the window. Thus, Jake equated drive up windows with cheeseburger. He was smart. So, the ex has Jake in the Blazer with him, once again. He decides to go through Wendy’s drive through. Jake, of course, thinks, “Hot Dang! Cheeseburger time!” When the ex gets to the window to get the food, there is no Steve with a cheeseburger for Jake, being as this is Wendy’s. Jake proceeded to jump up on the drive through window ledge and go into Wendy’s lookin’ for his cheeseburger. The ex had to go in and get him. HEE!
Jake was, of course, well behaved with me at all times. He died of cancer in 1997. I still miss that critter somethin’ awful.
Ok, wow. Two Rue posts in a week. I’m glad the pug was ok. Too bad the other dog didn’t get to finish his bagel snack though. I’ll bet he needed those carbs.
The guys who write the fortunes for the fortune cookies in our restaurant are just phoning it in now. Remeber my fortune a couple of MMPs ago that said, “Ignore previous cookie”? Well, Roundboy got this one today in his Massive Chinese Lunch Special:
Okay, so this week it was a bagel that popped outta a dog. I must say that’s much better than bugs, pus, or testes.
Thanks, gt for standing up for the puggies. They ARE beautiful on the inside. Outside…not so much. But they are way KEEEEE-UTE!
swampy, sounds like Jake was, well, Jake!
I died my hair for years when the grey started to overwhelm my perception of my yootful appearance. Then about a year ago I just got sick of doing it and had the dyed hair cut off. What I don’t like about dyed hair is how it changes the texture of my hair. It’s actually much prettier and softer au naturale.
Oh, I wore that suit. It was all I had. Nobody saw th big old paper clamp I had in back to take some of the slack out of the pants. Hiked up the suspenders, too.
I am home from ACLS (I passed! of course…) and 4 hours of running errands, which is less fun than it sounds.
I am exhausted! Maybe I need Geritol or something.
I went to Target today–that story makes me so :mad: that I may not shop at Target anymore.
WTF? It’s a LEGAL medication!
These people need lives, all of them.
Urgh, I’m mad about this.
Nice vet story. I have a similiar one, but involving the pediatrician. Woman comes flying into the waiting room (no appt) and cries, “I must see the doctor right away! My baby is bleeding!”
Receptionist gets up and takes a look at the sleeping infant in her carrier and says, “Your baby is bleeding?”
Woman:“Yes–she has a bad diaper rash and now she’s all bloody.”
Receptionist:" Is her bottom all raw and irritated? Are there raised, red bumps?"
Woman(almost crying now):“Yes, yes–please get the doctor right away!”
Receptionist:“Have a seat, m’am, the doctor will see you shortly…”
Turns out the baby had such raw skin that she did have some pink tinge on her diaper. Concerning, yes, but not an emergency.
I’m stuck not being able to wear my glasses, but not being able to see out of one eye. Apparently, last night, my right contact came out at some point, and so it irritated my eye when I went to take it out. A lot. And it hurt so much this morning that I couldn’t bear to put my right contact in. But I couldn’t wear my glasses, because they had been left at an event yesterday, and were in a building on campus.
I’m here alone 'cause the SO had to go out with his coworkers. He doesn’t have much in common with them, they’re mostly single moms and we don’t want to have any kids. I’m sure one of them is trying to snag him - who wouldn’t - but what they don’t know is how much these single moms* turn him off immediately. But he’s been there five years and avoided going out with them all this time, so they finally dragooned him into it.
So I made *rotis *(Indian flatbread), and okra. Yum! I’ve noticed when I’m home alone I always eat vegetarian. I wonder why? Anyway, it’s nice, except the house is cold without another person in it - we haven’t turned the heat on yet. We’re tough NY’ers!
*Ok, these are really obnoxious single moms. Some of them deliberately got pregnant and then dumped their boy, just wanting a kid. Some of them complain all the time about not having enough money for the kids, yet they’re buying expensive clothes and designer shoes.
Ugh. I work for the Department of Welfare here in Pennsylvania. I see that all the time. If you need to be on welfare, you can’t afford the bling and the sparklies and the useless hand-painted fingernails with tiny Carribean sunsets on them (and then complain about pushing the buttons to set your pin number because your inch-long fingernails keep your fingers from getting near the buttons).
I know that this is wrong of me, but I can’t help it. I got all giggly picturing Bobbio with the big ol’ paper clamp on the back of his pants and the hiked up suspenders. I’m picturing Klem Kadiddlehopper.
