There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2006-11-15

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Dearest Internet,
How I have missed you. I have often thought of you and wished that we could be together again. Let me see… so much has happened since last we spoke.

Puppies? Oh my god, don’t get me started. The cute is intoxicating and overwhelming. For a while the poop was overwhelming as well. So. Much. Laundry.

So the little family lived and worked for a while in my “den,” aka “The Scary Room,” which is where all of the crap that I can’t classify ends up. And where my dryer is located due to the fact that my house is a zillion years old and was designed by Mennonites. So they all lived in the little plastic turtle sand box for a while – about 2 weeks, I guess. Then the babies started wandering. Only they didn’t wander in the classical sense, they just paddled their little feet like crazy until they had escaped the turtle. Then they crapped everywhere. They were late bloomers in the eye- and ear-opening department. The eyes typically open at about 9+ days. These little slackers kept theirs scrunched shut until day 13! And even then they were squinting!

So at week 3.5-ish, I moved them outside into the structure I whimsically call my “Back House.” It is in the back of my house. It is a garage-y building converted into living quarters in the 70s by a bunch of high school idiots who used paneling instead of drywall and stapled blue/green shag carpeting to the walls. It has plumbing, but the kitchenette sink’s P-trap rusted through sometime a decade ago or so. It is salvageable, but will take some effort to make it a comfortable office space, which is my ultimate goal. So I moved Mary and the 9 baby Jesuses out there when they were about 4 weeks old because the amount of shit they produce is fucking impressive. Really. Keep track of how much you shit in a week, and I can guarantee you these puppies can kick your ass. The smell was a bit oppressive, to be all Victorian about it.

So they’re out there and I keep the door open so their mom can come and go as she pleases, and I lined the floor (plywood subfloor since the shag carpet was removed) with a zillion layers of disposable painters’ dropcloths to catch the crap. And for the first week.5, I had to peel up a layer every 4 or 5 hours. They can shit you under the table. Plus, there are 9 of them. NINE. But then gradually over the next week or two, they have been housebreaking themselves. It is the coolest thing. They still pee inside on a regular basis, but on their own impetus, they crap outside exclusively. (I power-wash my deck at least once each day.)

Most of the people who had enthusiastically told me that I am a nice person and that they would take a puppy have left town and changed their name, but the lovely people at the San Antonio Boxer Rescue have agreed to help me find homes for them, even though they are really very little trouble anymore and I’d like to keep them all.

So, puppies good! Puppies make life worth living!

I have, since leaving the employ of EduMart, been given an education (schooled, if you will), in the ways of corporate America. So all of that drama happened, right? With the multiple “This is your last day” dates and being asked to train my replacement, right? Well, it turns out that the people I work with in the Official Government Agency of the Big Square State weren’t really happy at all about my circumstance and made a huge fucking stink about it. It was really something to watch from the sidelines. You will someday read the emails in my memoir, but until then, be aware that they were ready to burn EduMart down. It was sweet. So EduMart had no option but to hire me back as a consultant. At an inflated hourly rate. Which is more than I would have made had they just kept me employed. Including benefits. But, since it was EduMart, of course there was drama. Please reference the following timeline:

Friday, October 20: 2BD’s last official day of employment. Am asked if I would be willing to finish the job. “For a fee,” I sez.
Monday, October 23: 2BD receives a contact through the postal system commonly known as “email.” It outlines various tasks and the outrageous hourly fee I feel I deserve due to the copious butt-raping I have received. I print and sign said contract and begin working on my contracted tasks.
Tuesday, October 24: Lah dee dah, working, working, wearing jammies.
Wednesday, October 25: See Tuesday.
Thursday, October 26: Continue onward as before.
Friday, October 27: Receive email from former coworker at EduMart informing me that the evil whore aforementioned is refusing to sign my contract. Work stoppage ensues, significant to no one but me. I realize that since I am the sole signatory of the contract, it is meaningless. I clean up puppy crap to ease my pain and sorrow.
Monday, October 30: Work stoppage continues.
Tuesday, October 31: Capillaries burst all over my body due to stress/anger/booze.
Wednesday, November 1: Receive email from former coworker at EduMart telling me that the cavalry has arrived in the form of several exquisitely snotty emails about what hot shit I am form the Big Square State. I am humble as I flip off EduMart and curse the evil whore. However, I still have no executed contract.
Two weeks and many emails later: 2BD receives assurances that she will, in fact, receive the executed contract in the mail.

In the meantime I have received other contract work from EduTech, which I gratefully accepted.

To recap: Puppies saved my life. I hate EduMart. I owe the interweb a story about the 2nd annual Texas Hill Country Wine Tour. The puppies have tried to nurse from Katy rather often, which is hilarious unless you’re Katy. Crazy millionaire stories to come.

Kiss, kiss. Love you. Mean it.


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birth & death