calgarygirl
06-10-2005, 11:03 AM
LIFE WITH NEWMAN – RAIN, RAIN GO AWAY
Hi, everyone. This is Newman again. It undoubtedly means "trouble" when I have to write my own column because it usually means that I've irked mom again in some fashion and she's nowhere to be found. I think she's in one of two places: (1) she went to the grocery store to stock up on picnic supplies because she said she was down to her "last straw" or (2) she went to the lake to go swimming because she had reached her "boiling point". I'm not sure how running out of straws or being hot can be blamed on me, but she shakes her finger in my face and mumbles something about fish being the ultimate in pet ownership. In fact, everyone in the human world seems to be a bit cranky lately and I think it has something to do with the fact that it has been raining in our city for six straight days. I'm beyond confused as to why humans love to be IN the water, but they don't like the water to fall on them. I think what's important here, at least from a lab perspective, is that either way you're wet. Who cares how you became that way, as long as you remain that way for as long as possible. Apparently, that is not a sentiment shared by mom.
Our new house still doesn't have sod. Well, it does and it doesn't. Mom says I'm SOD, which is her abbreviation for Spawn of Devil, although I'm quite sure that my biological father's name wasn't Devil, it was Hunter's Delight. We don't have the other kind of sod, which is green and gets rolled out like a carpet in the yard. Evidently, it is imperative to have this sod because it covers up the dirt outside, except that on account of the rain, it's not dirt anymore it's mud. We now have a "mud moat" around our entire house and if you bring any of the moat INSIDE the house, the vein in mom's forehead starts to throb. Dad comes in from the rain and mom makes him strip down to his boxers before she lets him off the mat at the back door. And then she takes the gun that shoots hot air and shakes it at his head until he's perspiring.
All the rain has washed away the temporary little pebbles that were in my dog run because it's on a hill and now a river runs through it all the way to the back gutter. I think this is great fun because it's like a wicked-awesome slide at the waterpark. But the procedure to get back in the house after spending time out in my run is like watching Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes together….it's awkward, uncomfortable and makes me squirm. First, mom tried those girly paw wipes that smell like rose petals, but she needed about four wipes for each paw and she said she may as well swab my feet with a French Hermés scarf at that price. So then she switched to Dad's old gym towels, but she got tired of doing a load of mucky towels in the laundry every day and trying to decide who smells worse, me or Dad. Clearly that's Dad because he rolls in something called "Stetson" and it makes me sneeze. So NOW, mom keeps a bucket of warm water in the garage and she dips my feet in it one at a time and scrubs them with a facecloth. And every time she dips my paw in the water she says "Madge, you're soaking in it" and I have no idea who she's talking to.
While some of you were sceptical, I learned how to use my doggy door in about three days and now I can come and go in the garage as I please. If mom has forgotten about me, she will open the garage door to find mucky paw prints all over the floor like a hundred people had been doing the "Time Warp" after stepping in fudge pudding. At those times, her shoulders sag and she presses the palm of her hand to her forehead and asks someone for strength. I think it's Madge.
Because of this deluge of rain, we haven't been going for very many walks and we certainly haven't been going to the pond behind our house because it's really high and mom thinks it's too dangerous. So what we've been dealing with in the house is something called "boredom". I try to break the monotony, but nobody wants to play "throw the ball down the hallway", "chase me around the kitchen island", "guess where I hid your slippers?", "I've got a secret hiding place" or "do you want your socks back?". Mom and Dad did play hide and seek with me for a while, until I discovered that they had actually left the house and gone to a movie.
What I love the most is the new waterfall that I have in my dog run. The house next door isn't finished yet and the new person doesn't move in for a few more weeks. This man must be of a different nationality because his last name is "Nayborfrumhell". In any event, the rainspouts from the top of his house pour right into my dog run and they have been for six days. Not only has this made a great natural lagoon that I can lie down in, but I get splashed on the head from above and Dad says it reminds him of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance.
I sure hope the rain ends soon because I am sick and tired of being in the house. And I am SO confused by human behaviour that it is no wonder that I'm always in trouble. Mom hates the water falling on her and making her hair look like Foxy Brown and yet every single morning she steps into a box and lets the water fall on her for 20 minutes. She even SINGS about it. I get rubbed with scratchy towels until I'm raw because I roll in the mud and flop in the water and yet mom slathers mud all over her face and sits in a big barrel of water and calls it a "beauty regimen". I'm not really allowed to play in the rain because it makes me smell like a wet subway tunnel, but DAD is allowed to play in it for five hours with an iron stick and a small white ball and mom thinks he's "brave".
So, in summary, if I'm understanding everything correctly, I keep getting in trouble for being wet, but mom wants to exchange me for an animal who is aquatic. If I were a human, right about now I'd be pressing my hand to my forehead and praying to Madge.
Dee Clair
Calgary, Alberta
Hi, everyone. This is Newman again. It undoubtedly means "trouble" when I have to write my own column because it usually means that I've irked mom again in some fashion and she's nowhere to be found. I think she's in one of two places: (1) she went to the grocery store to stock up on picnic supplies because she said she was down to her "last straw" or (2) she went to the lake to go swimming because she had reached her "boiling point". I'm not sure how running out of straws or being hot can be blamed on me, but she shakes her finger in my face and mumbles something about fish being the ultimate in pet ownership. In fact, everyone in the human world seems to be a bit cranky lately and I think it has something to do with the fact that it has been raining in our city for six straight days. I'm beyond confused as to why humans love to be IN the water, but they don't like the water to fall on them. I think what's important here, at least from a lab perspective, is that either way you're wet. Who cares how you became that way, as long as you remain that way for as long as possible. Apparently, that is not a sentiment shared by mom.
Our new house still doesn't have sod. Well, it does and it doesn't. Mom says I'm SOD, which is her abbreviation for Spawn of Devil, although I'm quite sure that my biological father's name wasn't Devil, it was Hunter's Delight. We don't have the other kind of sod, which is green and gets rolled out like a carpet in the yard. Evidently, it is imperative to have this sod because it covers up the dirt outside, except that on account of the rain, it's not dirt anymore it's mud. We now have a "mud moat" around our entire house and if you bring any of the moat INSIDE the house, the vein in mom's forehead starts to throb. Dad comes in from the rain and mom makes him strip down to his boxers before she lets him off the mat at the back door. And then she takes the gun that shoots hot air and shakes it at his head until he's perspiring.
All the rain has washed away the temporary little pebbles that were in my dog run because it's on a hill and now a river runs through it all the way to the back gutter. I think this is great fun because it's like a wicked-awesome slide at the waterpark. But the procedure to get back in the house after spending time out in my run is like watching Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes together….it's awkward, uncomfortable and makes me squirm. First, mom tried those girly paw wipes that smell like rose petals, but she needed about four wipes for each paw and she said she may as well swab my feet with a French Hermés scarf at that price. So then she switched to Dad's old gym towels, but she got tired of doing a load of mucky towels in the laundry every day and trying to decide who smells worse, me or Dad. Clearly that's Dad because he rolls in something called "Stetson" and it makes me sneeze. So NOW, mom keeps a bucket of warm water in the garage and she dips my feet in it one at a time and scrubs them with a facecloth. And every time she dips my paw in the water she says "Madge, you're soaking in it" and I have no idea who she's talking to.
While some of you were sceptical, I learned how to use my doggy door in about three days and now I can come and go in the garage as I please. If mom has forgotten about me, she will open the garage door to find mucky paw prints all over the floor like a hundred people had been doing the "Time Warp" after stepping in fudge pudding. At those times, her shoulders sag and she presses the palm of her hand to her forehead and asks someone for strength. I think it's Madge.
Because of this deluge of rain, we haven't been going for very many walks and we certainly haven't been going to the pond behind our house because it's really high and mom thinks it's too dangerous. So what we've been dealing with in the house is something called "boredom". I try to break the monotony, but nobody wants to play "throw the ball down the hallway", "chase me around the kitchen island", "guess where I hid your slippers?", "I've got a secret hiding place" or "do you want your socks back?". Mom and Dad did play hide and seek with me for a while, until I discovered that they had actually left the house and gone to a movie.
What I love the most is the new waterfall that I have in my dog run. The house next door isn't finished yet and the new person doesn't move in for a few more weeks. This man must be of a different nationality because his last name is "Nayborfrumhell". In any event, the rainspouts from the top of his house pour right into my dog run and they have been for six days. Not only has this made a great natural lagoon that I can lie down in, but I get splashed on the head from above and Dad says it reminds him of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance.
I sure hope the rain ends soon because I am sick and tired of being in the house. And I am SO confused by human behaviour that it is no wonder that I'm always in trouble. Mom hates the water falling on her and making her hair look like Foxy Brown and yet every single morning she steps into a box and lets the water fall on her for 20 minutes. She even SINGS about it. I get rubbed with scratchy towels until I'm raw because I roll in the mud and flop in the water and yet mom slathers mud all over her face and sits in a big barrel of water and calls it a "beauty regimen". I'm not really allowed to play in the rain because it makes me smell like a wet subway tunnel, but DAD is allowed to play in it for five hours with an iron stick and a small white ball and mom thinks he's "brave".
So, in summary, if I'm understanding everything correctly, I keep getting in trouble for being wet, but mom wants to exchange me for an animal who is aquatic. If I were a human, right about now I'd be pressing my hand to my forehead and praying to Madge.
Dee Clair
Calgary, Alberta