Monthly Archives: July 2009
It’s true. Brian is my very adorable, very young, very calculating arch nemesis. He’s the Goblin to my Spidey, the Joker to my Batman… the Bobby to my Whitney. BOBBY!!
Yesterday I arrived home at 6:30 which only gave me a short time to walk Brian and change before my 7pm improv class. It was misting a little outside but I thought it was nothing serious. I was rushing but also confident that Brian would be quick to do “his business” as he has been in the past. Need I remind you of the lightening fast crapola he took in my lady space when I wasn’t looking? So yes, I did not grab an um-ber-ella… ella ella ella.
I take Brian outside and for the first time he is just taking his sweet ole time. He sniffs everything and it disgusted by everything. No patch is good enough for his rear. Before I know it we have travelled two blocks out of the way and are now a little too far from the apartment to make it home dry if it really does start to rain.
I swear to God the little villain looked up at me, the sky rumbled, he peed and then instant downpour! Like bad, you can hide form this rain. I believe Forrest Gump would have described it as “big ole fat” rain.
I panic. I flail. I scoop up Lex Luthor and I cling fiercely to a little wet dog as I run two blocks back towards the apartment. We get back to the apartment with 5 minutes to spare for me to crate Brian and get changed for class. Thanks to Brian’s unrulyness in the apartment and an adorable factor that makes me give him excessive belly rubs… I do not change and end up getting to class soaked and smelling of wet dog.
This round goes to you, Yoko, but I am ready for tonight’s rematch.
Diana Ross seems to be falling into a routine with us. He plays well with Annabelle Blanche and does not gnaw on any contraband in our presence. He still maintains a curiosity with my room and as soon as I open the door he makes a dash to the scene of the crime. But I’m onto Diana Ross now and can usually intercept him in one fell swoop… if I’m clothed.
I took him for a walk last night around the neighborhood and he got to meet a lot of our WIT family as they waited for their classes to start on the street corner. I did not linger for too long as it became apparent that Diana Ross has more fans than I do.
Rookie mistakes = Worst possible scenario realized.
I wake up. Brian wakes up in his crate. I start getting ready to take a shower. Internet, please contain yourself, I get naked and put on my thin gauzy bathrobe ( I make note of this because it is a skosh too thin to wear publicly outside of Amsterdam). Brian starts to whimper. The whimper gets louder as I gather my shower stuff. His “in crate” whimper is heartbreaking to hear.
Diana Ross has got some pipes and my roommate and her dog are sleeping in the other room. I decide to let Brian out of his crate so that 1) no more whimper and 2) he can chill in the bathroom with me while I shower and then I will take him out when I am dressed. No. That’s a fantasy, Tara.
The reality is that 7 seconds after openning the crate Brian is taking a hearty smash on the hardwood floor of my bedroom. [CUE music from Halloween and a circular crane shot around my head] I panic. I run and take two leaps toward the kitchen while yelling, “No, Brian. Bad puppy!” Then I realize I’ve just turned my back on him again! Great Zeus’s beard! I can’t do that! What if he starts to pee? What if he starts to eat the poop?! Great Ceasar’s ghost! I have to go back! I stop midway to the kitchen and flip violently back towards the scene of the crime (the robe is now flying akimbo). “Brian come! Brian, no! Come! Brian get your face away from there!” I make two generous leaps toward my room but OH MY JERRRMAJESTY! I’m now stonewalled by a stench that can only be described as WET HOT SUMMER DOG SHIT. I screech! I flail! Sweet Jon and Kate Plus 8! I need to get this excrement machine outside, but I’m naked. AND I need to get the poop off my floor! But if I turn my back on Sir Shits A Lot he’s going to pee somewhere, destroy a childhood teddybear and eat my grandma’s pearls. For the love of humanity! I try to coax him back into the crate but he’s not having it. I try to pick him up but he flees back again toward to poo. Son of a donkey! What the hell are my options?!
My only recourse is to wake my roommate and her dog… in a FRENZY. I knock on the door and my roommate’s dog (Annabelle Blanche) starts barking. This prompts Brian to start barking louder. Dang! Bunk! Hornfwaggers! That’s just great! My roommate wakes to a loud bang on the door, two lap dogs barking, the smell of dog shit and a barely robed Tara about to commit puppycide.
The household in an unbelievable state of upheaval. My roommate is getting her bearings and has two bananas dogs at her feet while I run with Fantastic, papertowels and trash bags to my room cursing and explaining what happened to a still half asleep Southern Belle.
God bless her for taking the dogs out immediately and walking them. God bless her for also taking the bag of poo out with her so that I didn’t have to walk outside in just my robe.
“Tonight will be better,” I say to myself. I have to believe tonight will be better.