This is SCARY Stuff!

This morning my alarm went of at 5am.  I got out of bed, changed the alarm to 6am, and crawled BACK into bed.

At 6am, my alarm went off AGAIN. 

Aren't you glad to know that the alarm on my phone functions just as it should?

Well, unfortunately instead of "snooze" I hit "dismiss."

Which, of course meant I went right back to sleep...

Fast forward what felt like mere seconds.  I stretched, grabbed my phone, and decided to use my weather app to see what the weather would be like...Because experience has taught me that the first words out of my youngest daughters mouth (behind her lengthy groan at having to rise) will be "What's the weather going to be like today?"

Anyway, I grabbed my phone from underneath my right hip, and just as I hit the "unlock" I heard an eerie "swishhhhhhh."

?!

I can always hear Kelsey's collar jingle as she trots down the hall to tell me it's time to get my carcass out of bed.  And Chesney always makes Chewbacca sounds as she stretches, and even if those bizarre growls don't wake me, her tail whacking the door frames as she goes down the hall certainly will.

But all I could hear was a very constantly paced "swissshhhhhh."  And it was coming down the hall to my room!  Hashtag!  Something is coming to get me!

I said in a weak, thready voice, "Kelsey?"  The swish remained steadily paced.  No reassuring jingle. 

"Chesney?"  No thumping tail or Wookiee moans to alert me as to the identity of the source.

You know how when you first wake up, your brain is fuzzy and perhaps not rational?  Well, I don't know what the heck I thought was swishing down the hall to me, but it took all of my willpower not to let out a blood curdling scream when warm breath started fanning my face.

Then I realized the warm breath was attached to a dog that was carrying her security blanket down the hall, and since she was dragging it, she apparently wasn't wagging her tail or talking in Wookiee.

She was just scaring the crap out of me.

But in the end it was all good, as I had actually went back to sleep for FORTY minutes instead of a mere few seconds. 

Turns out that early adrenaline rush was just the thing to get me moving quickly to get everyone out the door on time!

The Rotation

The dogs sleep in the house at night.  I bring them in around 8:30 or so, and since time has changed, but Kelsey has no concept of time change, she huffs past me and heads straight to bed.  Her frustration with my lack of consideration for her sleep time are quite obvious. 

Chesney, however runs around like a spazz, fetching and retrieving and generally acting goofy.  Until she finds the bag of sweet potatoes, and if you aren't quick enough, you will notice it is too quiet.  Quiet like, "what are my children doing" quiet.  Only my kids are usually in bed, and Chesney can usually be found quietly noshing on a sweet potato.  So, if you happen to notice puncture marks in your sweet potatoes when you are at my house, I have no idea how they got there.

This is Chesney's painful attempt at "stay."  I assure you every fiber of her being want to dash up to me, then crawl between my legs and lay down.  It's her safe spot.

Anyway, sometime between the hours of 5:30 and 7:00am, I let the dogs out.  The time is now gloriously fluid because A)have I mentioned I only go to work twice per week now and B)Chesney's bladder is a little more able to take a longer sleep in. 

As I let the dogs out, an amazing cycle begins.  A cat jumps over both dogs as they scramble out the back door.  Then, if the cat is Oliver, he runs to the front door and meows.  Now, this makes little sense to me as he just came from the BACK door, but now he wants out the front door.  Although, why it surprises me is ridiculous.  He meows at the gate to the yard if I'm outside too.  But I don't blame him.  Would you rather scale a chain link fence, or let your human open the gate for you?  Anyway, I let his majesty out the front door.

As I go into the kitchen to start up my Keurig, invariably I hear a chirruping "meow."  That would be Misty.  The ruckus at the back door has woken her.  I open the door and ask "How do you get in here every night?  Every night I put you both OUTSIDE, yet one or the other finds their way BACK in the garage before I get up."  You see, the cat in the garage, and the cat outside rotates.  I never know if I will see a streak of gray sleekness leap over the dogs, or a mass of black and white fluff. 

It kind of keeps things fresh, y'know?

So, in this particular example of the morning rotation, Misty is in the garage.  And she is using her chirruping meow.  I open the door, because I'm stupid, and she runs in the house, weaves herself around my legs, then proceeds to the front door, where I have just released Oliver, and lets out a long, plaintive, raspy "meeeeoooooow."  Of course, the kids are still asleep about 60% of the time at this point.  Or at least, they are PRETENDING to be asleep as they do not want to leave the comfort of their warm beds.  So, in order to give my little angels a few moments more shut eye, I open the door to let Misty out.  Because apparently I have no authority over the cats in this house.   I mean, I put them out every night.  Every morning at least one is in the garage, demanding to be released.*

Oh, don't let that calm demeanor fool you.  This cat outright talks to you.  And if she doesn't get her way, she talks and talks and talks until you just give in and do whatever it is she wanted in the first place.

You know what happens next, right?  Oliver runs right into the house, seeing as I have not filled his food dish, and that was the only reason he wanted on the front porch in the first place.  Now the thing with Oliver is this:  He owns a human.  Well, he owns three technically.  Because Bookworm takes no ownership of him whatsoever, and I scratch him when I fancy, and Brent pretty much dotes on him.  But Popcorn?

Oh, he OWNS her.  She knows it.  He knows it.  Shoot, the whole family knows it.

Well, upon discovering that I have not filled his food dish as was his wont, he dashes back into the house. Gentle Reader, let it be known that I NEVER fill the food dish of any animal in this house unless my children are gone.  So why he considers this a surprise every single morning is a mystery.  However, he is greatly offended.  And he knows exactly who to go tattle to.  He pussy foots his fluffy self right past me, makes a persnickety left at the piano, and heads directly to his child.  He prances into her room, meowling his strangely dainty meow for an 18 pound ball of fluff, and hops onto Popcorn's bed.

Here is Mr. Flufferpants himself, surveying his child's domain

She promptly picks him up and carries him...

To the garage.  Where she shuts the door, then goes to her room to get ready for school.

As I typed this post, I kept having one thought buzz around my brain "The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over yet expecting different results."

For the life of me, I can't tell you who the insane one is.

*Gentle Reader, the magic of the cats in the garage has turned out to not be magic at all.  It turns out that as Brent leaves through the garage, then out the door to the back yard through the garage, at least one cat darts in.  And then plaintively meows.  And then he feeds them.  IN THE GARAGE.  The issue with this is that I was scolding the girls for WEEKS that they had better stop feeding the cats in the garage so the cats would quit dashing in every time the door was opened.  Of course, they denied feeding the cats.  "Then how does the bowl of food keep appearing?"  Oh, Gentle Reader, the culprit was found out.  And then I learned that not only do I have no authority over the cats in my life, apparently I have none over my husband who can't stand to hear their pitiful wails at 4:30 in the morning. 
 

Jingle Bells!

I hung some chimes from our back door.  A few weeks ago I started taking Chesney's nose and hitting the bells every time I take her out...

She understands what they're for, but I must say I don't think she likes them.  I think they are too jingly and perhaps hurt her ears...I suggested we buy a buzzer for her to press...Studmuffin scoffed at placing a doorbell inside the house for the dog.  All I'm sayin' is that I need something that is easily heard, so that I'm not cleaning puppy messes up off the floor all the time.

A few nights ago she rang the bells.  Brent took her out and she did her business.

He brought her back in, and a few minutes later she rang them again...

He let her out and she chased Freckles off of the back porch and up a tree...

And she came back to the door and scratched...

So he let her back in...

She trotted into the kitchen, found nothing of interest and came back to plop down in the living room next to Brent...After a few minutes she got BACK up, went back to the kitchen, sniffed around and then came right back to lay beside Brent...She did this a few more times...

Then one time after leaving the kitchen, she went over to the door and rang the chimes...

Brent sighed and got up to put her back out... And she immediately ran over to the outdoor water bowl and took a big long drink!

You see, every night an hour or so before bedtime, Brent takes her water away, so he won't have to get up with her during the night...

But apparently chasing kittens is thirsty work, and if she couldn't have a drink from the kitchen, she'd just get it from her bowl outside...

I am afraid this dog is too smart for us...

Last Sunday Popcorn let the dogs in while we were still in bed (after we had turned them both out for their 5am ablutions which really means we kick them out and go back to bed)  She was watching TV...

We heard the chimes faintly ring...

We didn't hear the door open...

Brent got up to check on what was up, and sure enough!  Chesney had peed on the dining room floor!

Oh joy.

It seems that she rang the bell so softly, and since she had just came from outside Popcorn could not be bothered to climb out from under her fleece blanket to turn her back out...She didn't think she "really needed to go."

I tried not to scream...And sort of succeeded...

"Well next time, even if you don't think she SHOULD need to go, could you just put her out anyway, PLEASE?"

"Sure thing, Mom!"  And she happily resumed watching the Munsters on Netflix.

Puppy Antics...

It's raining today.

And it's my day off.

And there are no fantabulous deals at Homeland.

So I'm sitting on the couch sipping hot cocoa laced coffee and not feeling guilty for doing nothing...

Well, I'm feeling guilty about my thighs, but that's irrelevant.

The obvious answer to that dilemma is homemade banana and pumpkin bread...

I decided to delay that spurt of productivity by sharing some puppy antics with you...

Aawww!!  Look at that picture of innocence!

Too bad it was directly following a wild chase through the house by Popcorn who was endeavoring to save a baby bib I had stored in a cabinet under our bar that was made specifically for her by one of the leader of my MOPS group...The strings were dangling out after I had dug through the cabinet looking for my fall napkins...

The chase lead to this:

So, after much crashing and banging and excessive yelling by everyone present she decided she should lay docilely on the floor to prove her overall cuteness.

Oh, and what about this sweet little snapshot I took last night?  Well, Brent had decided it was bedtime.  Chesney refused to lay down next to him on her pillow case and sack out with him on the floor.  (This is their normal 8pm routine, followed by me waking Brent around 9:30 and telling him to put his puppy to bed and come to bed with me.)

Well, as I said she did not feel like going to bed at 8pm last night.  Instead she was rolling around on the floor, getting into everything she shouldn't get into, and generally getting on his nerves as he wanted to go to sleep while watching the timeless Halloween classic "Lost Boys" on Netflix...

He scooped her up and shoved her in her crate.  And she proceeded to yelp and whine and whimper.  She did not WANT to be in her crate when the living room lights were still on and the family was still awake...

So she endeavored to keep the girls awake, and was quite successful!  They yelled "SERIOUSLY!!??  She is keeping us awake!"  So, I broke the rules and let her out of her crate where she walked directly to Kelsey's bed and promptly squeezed between her and the desk and went to sleep. 

I think Brent was slightly annoyed by her choice of sleeping partner...

Since it is raining, and I'm off work.  The dogs are in the house with me.  Chesney is getting a tad rambunctious.  I am trying to teach her that playing rough is not allowed in the house...Kelsey is not doing an adequate job of discipline, which is clearly her job...

I mean part of the family's argument when begging me to get a new puppy was that we needed a puppy while Kelsey was still young enough to "train" her...So far Kelsey is gleefully joining in games of tug of war with stuffed animals (dog toys, thankfully) and wrestling matches directly at my feet...

I lost my patience with their antics this morning and yelled in my best "I've had it" mommy voice...

"That is ENOUGH!!  Kelsey!!  GO TO BED!  Chesney!  Go AWAY!!!"
 

They slunk out of the kitchen and plopped down on the carpet, gazing woefully at me like this:

But it did not make me feel guilty.  Not one little bit.  Instead it inspired me to stop any pretense of productivity and write a blog!

And Chesney has decided that all is forgiven and she is running maniacally around the sofa I'm sitting on, weaving under the table the lap top is sitting on, behind the sofa, then behind the recliner, and between the end table and wall where she knocked the lamp off just two days ago.

Lord help me, what was I thinking when I decided to surprise Brent with a puppy???

Oh, but on a brighter note:  I hung some chimes from the door and have been using her nose to ring them each time I take her out...She has rang them THREE times this morning and went outside to potty!  I'm finally getting trained...

Good Morning Sunshine

Chesney has added an entire new level of busy to my morning.

Of course I've decided to compensate for this new level of busyness by hitting snooze on my alarm three times every morning...

Because I'm all that's wise and prepared.

Wouldn't you just love a recap of my Friday morning?

Well, I won't go into extended detail, (at least I'll try to not go into extended detail but that is very hard for me.)

But point one is this:  When Chesney scratches at a door, even if it's the cabinet door in the kitchen it may perhaps mean that she needs to go potty. The whimper should have perhaps been my second clue to this situation.

Also, although I may consider myself all that is wise and timely, and even if I have allotted ten extra minutes in my morning to do a quick review of spelling and science with Popcorn for her exams, if I dash outside to check the dog bowl for water, I must also check the ground.

Because it is apparently inevitable that I will step in fresh puppy poo and track it all the way from the back door to the kitchen.

Blast!

So much for ten extra minutes in my morning!