Saturday, June 27, 2009

A Dawg story thrown in for good measure.

I know, I know, this is La Doof Kitton's blog. He shouldn't have to share it with the other pets.

But, truly, I found my write up of this Dawg story funny (yes, I'm easily amused. And yes, I laugh at my own jokes. And yes, I wrote it up already, some of you already saw it--sorry) so I figured everyone could deal. So without further ado:

Why I fired Dawg as my protector.

2 tidbits that are relevant:

1-I don't wear shoes in the summer @ home unless I'm going farther than a 10' radius around the yard. Blame my grandma who thought shoes were a torture device and that barefoot was the way to be. (and no, it doesn't hurt. Feet toughen up fast)

2-there are very few things that skeeve me out bug-wise. Exceptions = earwigs and/or things in swarms. (which makes sense--I don't care how much you love butterflies, standing in 3000 of them can give you the heebie-jeebies. Or at least it can me)


Today was trash day. Last night, i was getting the trash out and Dawg was 'helping' (see Dawg's definition of helping under 'hindering'). So she followed me around the house as I gathered trash [except the basement to do cat boxes--she's still afraid of the monster that eats puppies]. Then she went with me outside and we put all the trash in the container.

Then I moved the trash cart and, as we've had a LOT of wet weather recently, I saw a whole google of earwigs scurrying around. I lost it for a moment. I didn't scream but I had a fit of heebie-jeebies right then and there.

Even Dawg, being the *least* intuitive animal in the house (El Gato is the most, oddly enough. She always knows what we're feeling. She might not *CARE* and she sure as shooting won't help, but she makes it clear she knows), knew I was freaked out. And she deduced that the freak out was directed at the garbage cart. So she placed herself between me and the cart and made funny postures in front of it in order to say "quit freaking out Mom". Unfortunately, she did this while standing on my bare feet. And her nails need to be trimmed.

So, with a few bleeding scratches on the top of my feet, I flee out of Dawggie claw range and go put on shoes--I decided I needed protection between my toes and the devilish murder of carnivorous clawed critters.

I'm warily circling the trash container, eyeing it very suspiciously. Dawg seems to get that something is still bothering me. So since I made it clear that chewing on the trash cart wasn't the preferred answer, she looked for what else might bother me. So she scurried directly though the swarm of evil earwigs and....grabbed a stray leaf. She killed that leaf but good, making it very clear to the neighboring leaves that they should not bother mom. (ignoring the earwigs, of course)

I glared at her a wee bit for not noticing the earwigs she was walking in and out of and Dawg's little doggie light bulb went off...leaves were *not* the culprit. So she looked around to see what else might be getting to me...and she looked at the trash cart, at the seething mass of earwigs and then lit on what must be scaring mom...a pine cone.

The pine cone dutifully destroyed, she ran happy laps around the yard, quite certain she had defended mom against the evils of the yard's natural enemies.

I sighed, watched most of the earwigs disperse, grabbed the cart, and fled the rest of the bugs.

Then I came back to the house to have the heebie-jeebies. And I fired Dawg as the defender against earwigs.

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