There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


One Bad Dog.

This diary is not accurately named as I really have only one bad dog and another one who can be talked into going along with anything. Katy, the bad one, is clearly a pit bull/trash hound mix, with trash hound dominating. Because in spite of the fact that my dogs are fed free-choice style (i.e., there is ALWAYS at least 5 pounds of food just sitting there waiting to be eaten), she would kill me to get some good scraps. And by "good," I mean moldy or liquified. The other night the monkey had some chicken strips for dinner, with a generous side of ketchup, which, according to Ronald Reagan, counts as a vegetable on the food pyramid, even though the first ingredient on the label is corn syrup. Anyhoo, the monkey had fallen asleep with this plate of chicken leavin's and ketchup in his room, so I put it into the kitchen and prepared to wash me some dishes, since my dishwasher doesn't actually perform that task. I turned around for .64 seconds, and in that amount of time Katy managed to steal the plate (plastic) of ketchup and chicken crumbs. In her thievery, she managed to knock the plate to the floor via her back which I didn't initially realize until the next morning when I woke up next to a dog whose back was coated in dried ketchup. Bad. Dog.

In other pet news, Junebug managed to get himself skunked during his nightly catting around and hooo boy howdy, does he stank. I have been asked by no less than two separate people if I plan to bathe him in tomato juice. My reply was: Scoff. Of course not. A) it doesn't remove the skunk smell at all so you end up with a skunky/tomato-y pet, and B) do I look that stupid? Junebug is a strong little cat with at least 97 claws placed strategically on his body and I don't really like bleeding. And poor baby, to add insult to injury, he followed me out to my car to "help" me look for my cell phone, but he didn't make his presence known. I opened the car door, hunted around for a while, and eventually found the phone. The next morning, I heard a plaintive "roowr" coming from my car, as that is where Junebug spent the night after I accidentally locked his skunky ass in there. So my car smelled a little ripe that day, but from the Pepe le Pew residue, because Buggy was a good boy and didn't poop or pee in the car. His sister's fur STILL hasn't grown back from her mosquito bite incident, so she has a bald nose and spotty ears. I tried to take a picture of her face to show the Information Superhighway just how un-cute/cute she is, but she wiggled too much.

In other OTHER news, some wacky Brits are coming to San Antonio next month in August, which is the summer, because they could have come when it wasn't 102% humidity, but I guess Hell was all booked up in August so they're coming here. Does no one ever listen? Ever?

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