<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d10984815\x26blogName\x3dTwisted+life\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://twistedlifeofmine.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://twistedlifeofmine.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-8579710881784851407', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

The holiday that broke down my dog.

So last night was Halloween. I don't have any cute pictures of Gage wearing his pumpkin shirt, but suffice it to say, he was a huge hit. Very cute. Way cuter than that fucking weiner dog dressed as a hotdog. If I followed that logic, I'd have Gage in assless chaps and a leather fringe vest being that he is a big flaming queen.

So anyhoo, I finished work at 6 and as we all realized, it is fucking dark now at six. Shit, it's dark at 5:30 now. I no likey. So knowing that most kids that trick or treat aren't exactly up carrousing around at like 9 at night, I asked my mom to please take care of the kids that show up before I log off work. I had Gage all dressed and ready to go - looking all cute and shit. A few stragglers showed up early, but for the most part, I was there for all the action. We decided I'd hold Psycho Sam back and Mom would dole out the goods. At first, all went well. We had a big night of frozen pizza and a Gilmore Girls DVD to watch, so we were all set.

Then, it showed up at the house.

A very well dressed mummy. His mom went the whole 9 yards on this kid. White face make up, black rings around the eyes, bandages hanging off him and very nicely wrapped up. My big bad ass attack dog? Yeah, he stayed under the coffee table where he could keep an eye on that creature while uttering a low growl. I went "Awww, bud, come on over." He sprang out from under the table around the other side of it and sat in between my legs with his head on my knee - clearly protecting me from the 7-year-old outside.

From that point on, he was soooooooooo not feeling the oddly dressed creatures that kept showing up at my door. Remember the ugly sectional? Well, on one side of it, there are the two seats that recline and in between is a cushion and table dealio. He perched his rather large dog ass ON THE CUSHION because his time of walking back and forth across my legs while I am trying to catch up on Lorelai and Rory had come to an end. So there he sat. Two feet above my head looking down at my lap like "I just wanna be right there, mama. Why you no love you some me?" He was so pitiful I let him come over but he kept switching positions and y'all have seen him. He is not a tiny boy anymore. So off he went again. So he sat on the other side of the cushion and stared at me. The whole night. The whole time the kids came and went. He no longer showed any interest in who may be at the door because that mummy? It crushed his spirit. He finally laid down and put just his chin on the cushion to stare at me some more in case I decided to make a run for it and he did not catch it.

By the time we were done with the Gilmores and the kids were long gone and the door was closed against the evil of children in costumes, Gage was so strung out on stress that he collapsed in my bed and promptly fell into the type of sleep one can only achieve after the most taxing of days. I brushed my toofers and he was so dead to the world, I could not get him to move. I had to sleep AROUND HIM.

And I did it too. Because I am a good mama.

PS - He goes on doggie Lexapro tomorrow.

Labels:

Elizabeth at 12:52 PM

12comments

12 Comments

at 1:30 PM Blogger Tammy said...

Poor puppy. Give him a Snickers and all will be well.

 
at 1:30 PM Blogger Tammy said...

Oh, and I was FIRST, BITCHES!

 
at 1:45 PM Blogger Stephanie said...

Ok hooker.
I don't have your email address.
Email me at pissybritches@gmail.com

 
at 2:45 PM Blogger Sheila said...

oh.. I am sorry that the puppy had a bad Haloweenie....I hope that he has recovered well.

 
at 2:56 PM Blogger Carrie said...

Poor Pooper! My middle cat freaked the hell out last night right before I left for my sisters. I wasn't even scary - a pirate - but I guess the bandana on my head was too much. :P

Animals are crazy. :)

 
at 3:01 PM Blogger Shell said...

Good thing you didn't get that dog to protect you or anything.

I'm packing my bags. I'm drinking at your house this weekend. And none of that cheap crap, okay?

Just kidding...if I don't haul my Mom and her friends to the quilt fest on Sunday I will be labeled the bad kid again and that would probably last through Christmas...or until my sister screws up again...

 
at 3:39 PM Blogger patti_cake said...

Awww poor Pooper! Reilly couldn't have cared less about the trick or treaters which is kind of funny for a small dog but he's not a yapper Thank Bob.

 
at 3:43 PM Blogger Dixie said...

Poor puppy! If he refuses the lexapro, I'll take them.

 
at 5:18 PM Blogger Cheeky said...

Awwww poor sweetie....give him some love....

 
at 10:35 PM Blogger Adam said...

Gotta love those damned Goldens! They never leave you without a story.

 
at 9:17 AM Blogger A taste that's bitter said...

Aww. Poor puppy. Yeah, we saved our dog from the trick-o-treaters this year, and went out. He HATES when the doorbell rings.

 
at 2:34 PM Blogger Kami said...

Poor baby.

 

Post a Comment