Moose in the Kitchen

Been Bitch Slapped By a Cat

When you kindly take a dog around the block to pee, kindly because you really didn’t HAVE to do this, you could have stayed in bed and forced the dog to cradle a stomach that closely resembles a water balloon – but when you do take the dog out, remember to put on her collar.

That was foreshadowing.

We have a backyard so I could have opened the door and gone back to bed. But I’m a sucker. Meeka likes to trot around in the morning, ears and tail perky as she ignores promising patches of dirt and prances right up to the tiny garden the tiny, wrinkled Asian couple are tending so she can lift her leg and pee on their flowers. Fiery (yet polite) glares bore into my back as I tug her away. Urine drips off their lavender.

Who am I to deny her a toilet of blossoms?

All was well until we passed The House. With The Cat. I tried to pull her back, but her collar was lying peacefully on the rug at home, where I’d thrown it to give her the neck rubs SHE SO ENJOYS. The cat hissed madly, the dog opened her mouth, possibly to display her teeth, possibly to skip formalities and just eat the cat, and I had no leverage. So I wrapped my arm around Meeka’s chest – just in time for the cat’s swipe to put six new holes in my hand.

I hate cats.

I’m not so fond of dogs right now either. Meeka might soon be traded for a goldfish.

Discovered the Healing Properties of Target

Wire file box + 2 pairs of patent leather flip flops (1 pink/1 black) + toilet paper + 1 tube of Cover Girl lipslicks = everything but what I went to Target for in the first place.

Removed Jimmy Hoffa and 97 Wire Hangers from My Closet

I don’t have a before picture, but imagine a solid wall of crap, possibly including Roger Rabbit and certainly including jeans I haven’t been able to pull past my knees since 1997. When removed from its den, this stuff covered the entire floor.

Packed (Poorly) for BlogHer

I leave for the airport at 3 a.m. Also known as six hours from now. Also known as seven hours before I packed up jeans and long-sleeve shirts. I unpacked the jeans and long-sleeve shirts when I remembered that Chicago has an actual summer. I spent some time pondering the insufficient use of bleach and more time with the uncomfortable reminder of my own lack of importance. Because nobody cares how white my shirts or my teeth are.

Which is good because I wasn’t going to do laundry anyway.

Searched Menu For Items Most Worthy of Gauche Photography

I have wanted to eat here for years. I’m going tomorrow night. I will, possibly, have been awake for 23 hours before we hit dessert but I don’t care. The menu claims “duck with mango, yogurt, and pillow of lavender air.”

Lavender air is my FAVORITE.

Wrangled the Dog. Again.

When her on-call pet doctor left for Chicago on Saturday, I was sternly admonished to give Meeka plenty of pets. Since I only spend about 20 minutes a day petting the dog, instead of the recommended minimum of two hours, I promised to do my best.

Honestly, she got more pets yesterday, also known as the Day Before a Cat Put Six New Holes in My Hand.

I sometimes worry about my patience stores, especially as relate hypothetical children and my rearing thereof. Meeka, when she’s dragging her furry ass because she knows we’re headed home and she does not want to go home, no she doesn’t, tries my patience a bit. Stores of patience. That phrasing sounds like I have caverns full of delicious patience just waiting to be used. I think I have a grape’s worth of patience. A small grape.

But then the door bell rings and the next door neighbor (who’s keeping Meeka while I’m in Chicago) is on the doorstep. She tells me Meeka has jumped over the fence, and there she is at the back door, ears back and tail wagging because this is where she’s supposed to be.

And I decide not to trade her for a goldfish. Yet.

What I Haven’t Done

Look for a job.