Bad:
I woke up this morning to five, count them, FIVE mosquito bites on my hind end. My derriere. My tush. My rectus endus. (I'm quite certain I just made that word up.) My butt. Some little pesky bug must have had a hay day in my pants while I slept and I was none the wiser. Dang.....those bad boys really itch. And unless my name is Homer Simpson, they are not in a location where I would like to be caught scratching. And not to deter you with a horrible mental image or anything, but have you ever tried to put Calamine lotion on your own butt. Yeah. Not the easiest task and not the prettiest picture. I shall end with that. And try to resist the urge to scratch. It.is.driving.me.mad.
Doh.
Good:
And now the continuation in what has become "The Smarshmallow Saga" around our house. Awoke this morning, and yep, you guessed it, the dog was still on our lawn. Mangy, dirty, calm....just begging to be pet with a stick or washed off with cold hose water. When the kids went outside to get on the bus they were simultaneously overjoyed to see the dog and saddened because they knew what was going to happen. Kylie looks at me with tears in her eyes and says" Promise Mom....Promise that you won't call the police to come and take away Marshmallow."
Oh mercy. What was I supposed to say to that??!! So I promised....(but not before I crossed my fingers behind my back.) What was up with this dog? Why was he attracted to my house? Why was he willing to put up with kids, and noise, and chaos, and all things Nuttall. And why wouldn't he just leave already?
Well, by lunchtime the dog had not moved and I was at this point, quite frankly, worried that the dog was going to die on my lawn and then I would have a REALLY big mess on my hands. So......not wanting to break a promise to my daughter, I walked over to the neighbor's house and made her call the police. See.....I didn't break my promise. Since the policeman was right in the area he was there in minutes and he knew exactly who the dog belonged to. Within 15 minutes of calling the police, someone was at my doorstep picking up Marshmallow and being very grateful and relieved that we had called in the first place. (Apparently it was someone who was dog sitting and the dog escaped and she was in full blown panic mode. I would be too. I mean, it's not like you can run out and replace a dog and try to pull a fast one over on the owners.....like I wanted to do when I killed my Dad's parakeet. I didn't, mind you, but I could have.) But I digress. Marshmallow's babysitter was overjoyed to see the dog. She informed me that the dogs name was Sammy (see kids, I told you it was an average name) and promptly took the dog home for what I assume was a bath, a gourmet meal, and plenty of lovin'. (Gee....that kinda sounds like a couple of dates I've been on. ) And I was left feeling like I had done my civic duty for the day..... Except I didn't make the call.... And I let the poor dog starve on my lawn for two days...... And my kids tried to give it a bath with freezing cold water...... But other than that, I totally rocked it. The question is.....will Kylie ever talk to me again?
(Geez.....I don't see why not. I'm not the one who made that call....right?) Fare -the- well Smarshmallow/Marshmallow/Sammy......we will remember you always.
09.09.09
Memories!
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