Man's best friend.
Shortly after I woke this morning Michelle told me that the dog (or dogs - we are dog sitting for Mandy and Jack) had managed to pee in four separate places during the night. All four spots were in the room with the dog door (mere feet from the great outdoors). As she exited for work she asked me if I would rake the poop up in the yard today too.
So I'm on my hands and knees with a rag and Clorox water cleaning up last night's fun and games when I look up and I see this:
It was at that point I began to wonder who decided Newbie was my best friend.
You see, I went to Home Depot yesterday to get something they didn't have. As I was exiting the store empty handed I walked by a display of safety glasses and pondered the shower of sparks I seem to be taking daily now that I've taken up metal working as a new hobby. I decided to buy two pairs of new safety glasses so I would have an extra should someone want to watch me work at some future point.
When I got home I wanted to clean the house up some (Michelle was returning from a solo week of vacation) but knowing my feeble 50+ year old mind, I realized that failure to put the new glasses in the shop would result in them being hopelessly lost (without too much grief from me as I probably wouldn't even remember that I purchased them in the first place). To dodge that scenario I hung them on the knob of the back door where I was sure to see them the next time I was heading out to the shop.
You can probably guess the rest. At some point during the night my "best friend" decided to help me out by ripping through the bottom of the bag, taking both pairs of plastic safety glasses out into the yard, and, being unable to write a love note, put the only real signature he had on them.
Time passes.
I get the rake and start taking on the virtual sea of puppy droppings. It's been a week and these two dogs are a remarkable factory. If only they were dropping car parts in the yard. I'd have a hummer by now. I'm sure of it.
When Michelle left she tried to soften the request by saying she just wanted me to rake the bountiful harvest into a pile, I didn't need to pick it up. Considering this I appriciated the gesture but also knew there was no good reason to leave the job undone once I got a nice deep pile. As I grumbled about the fact that I didn't get to vote on Newbie being my best friend, I headed into the garage to get a shovel.
I found the shovel, walked back to the yard, opened the gate to see Jack's best friend rolling in the pile.
It was then that I knew I had to go public in the blogosphere and ask the question. Who gets to decide?
Shortly after I woke this morning Michelle told me that the dog (or dogs - we are dog sitting for Mandy and Jack) had managed to pee in four separate places during the night. All four spots were in the room with the dog door (mere feet from the great outdoors). As she exited for work she asked me if I would rake the poop up in the yard today too.
So I'm on my hands and knees with a rag and Clorox water cleaning up last night's fun and games when I look up and I see this:
It was at that point I began to wonder who decided Newbie was my best friend.
You see, I went to Home Depot yesterday to get something they didn't have. As I was exiting the store empty handed I walked by a display of safety glasses and pondered the shower of sparks I seem to be taking daily now that I've taken up metal working as a new hobby. I decided to buy two pairs of new safety glasses so I would have an extra should someone want to watch me work at some future point.
When I got home I wanted to clean the house up some (Michelle was returning from a solo week of vacation) but knowing my feeble 50+ year old mind, I realized that failure to put the new glasses in the shop would result in them being hopelessly lost (without too much grief from me as I probably wouldn't even remember that I purchased them in the first place). To dodge that scenario I hung them on the knob of the back door where I was sure to see them the next time I was heading out to the shop.
You can probably guess the rest. At some point during the night my "best friend" decided to help me out by ripping through the bottom of the bag, taking both pairs of plastic safety glasses out into the yard, and, being unable to write a love note, put the only real signature he had on them.
Time passes.
I get the rake and start taking on the virtual sea of puppy droppings. It's been a week and these two dogs are a remarkable factory. If only they were dropping car parts in the yard. I'd have a hummer by now. I'm sure of it.
When Michelle left she tried to soften the request by saying she just wanted me to rake the bountiful harvest into a pile, I didn't need to pick it up. Considering this I appriciated the gesture but also knew there was no good reason to leave the job undone once I got a nice deep pile. As I grumbled about the fact that I didn't get to vote on Newbie being my best friend, I headed into the garage to get a shovel.
I found the shovel, walked back to the yard, opened the gate to see Jack's best friend rolling in the pile.
It was then that I knew I had to go public in the blogosphere and ask the question. Who gets to decide?
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1 comment:
Did you bathe her before you decided not to tell me so we would let her up on our bed this week?
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