Category Archives: Animals

This Is How My Dog Learned to Eat Shoes

Remember back at the beginning of pregnancy when I complained about constantly having to buy bigger bras?

Yeaaaaaah…I had to do that again. But that’s not what this post is about.

The last couple weeks of pregnancy those troubles traveled south. Way south…to my feet.

As in my feet were swollen, not that my boobs were so huge that they touched the floor.

One day I walked around the office in little black bootie/ballet socks and praying that no one would realize I wasn’t wearing shoes. After that, I stole Kiefer’s PF Flyers and wore those to work. Since they’re all black, no one noticed I was wearing sneakers.

My ankles were nearly nonexistent, and every pair of shoes I owned (including the new bigger and wider ones I just bought) were pinching my feet.

I cursed myself for giving Ozzy the most recent shoe box so I couldn’t return the new shoes.

Everyone always posts pictures of cats and boxes, but no one posts about dogs and boxes. In case you were wondering what dogs do with boxes, let me put your mind at rest.

Step 1. Inspect the box for any strange odors.


Step 2. Determine if the box contained food…or is food.


Step 3. Taunt the cat with the new toy box.


Step 4. Determine if the box is indestructible.


Step 5. Destroy the box…but look cute while doing it.


Favorite Comment From Last Post: “My life with a newborn was very similar. We put our daughter in the crib the first night and then told her how to work the TV remote and to help herself to anything in the fridge if she woke before us. We were very surprised when she was up….15 minutes later.”—The Waiting

I Got a Black Eye…From My Cat

The other morning Ozzy and I got up while it was still dark outside. Actually…it’s always dark when Ozzy and I get up.

I opened the door to let Ozzy outside. Instead of his usual mad dash for squirrels, he took one step and then froze (not literally) in the doorway.

Open the door! The squirrels are getting away!

Open the door! The squirrels are getting away!

He looked at me, and I swear he said, “I don’t have to pee that bad. I can hold it.”

Esme Kitty saw his hesitation as her chance, and she dashed out while meow-yelling, “YOU CAN NEVER TAKE…MY FREEDOM!”

I let go of the door and reached down to grab Esme. Unfortunately, that lined up my eye with the door handle. SMACK!

The next 5 seconds went like this:

Thoughtsy: Power through the pain! Must…get…black cat…before the darkness swallows her up whole.

Ozzy Pups: THE CAT IS ESCAPING! ::he starts to chase Esme::

Thoughtsy: Screw the cat. She has fur for a reason. Ozzy will herd her home anyways.

Ozzy Pups: ::after 5 steps::  Screw the cat. It’s even too cold for chasing.

Thoughtsy: I will never forgive myself if Esme turns into a catsicle. ::walks outside::

Esme: Freedom is cold. So very cold.

And that’s when Esme ran back to the door and started pawing at it to be let in. Ozzy followed.

Esme: I'm taking this coat with me next time I go outside.

Esme: This coat is now mine. Get another.

Once back inside, my adrenaline rush was over. My head raced:

  • I’m gonna have a black eye.
  • Do I put steak on it or frozen peas?
  • What if I have a concussion? I shouldn’t go to sleep.

The good news is I still have a fully functioning eye. The bad news is it looks like I’ve applied blue and purple eyeshadow to only one eye. I can’t wait it turns green.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Ok, I’ll admit it…..I took the baby out for key lime pie martinis. What? I’ve been waiting for you FOREVER. At least somebody in your family still knows how to have some fun!”—Misty’s Laws

My Cat Ate My Pop-Tart

The other night when the unborn child started twerking in my tummy, I tried testing out my mommy skills to figure out what she wanted.

I hadn’t eaten much for dinner. Was she hungry?

I reached over to the nightstand’s box of Pop-Tarts that hadn’t been touched since the first trimester. The crinkling foil woke up Ozzy Pups. He moved from my feet and sat close to my stomach…on my right side.

Esme Kitty mimicked his actions, but she sat on my left side.

I gave Ozzy a small piece of Pop-Tart, and then I offered Esme a piece as well. I expected her to turn her nose up at it. It wasn’t meat, cheese, chips, or blueberry muffins, and that’s the extent of her human food diet.

She ate it.

I will eat anything! Even your face!

I will eat anything! Even your face!

I was stunned.

Ozzy, who was obviously expecting her rejected piece, was stunned.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course my cat likes Pop-Tarts. Duh.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “You’ve already lost control….”—Ginjuh

My Dog: The Snowman Assassin

This week Ozzy and I spent a lot of quality time together walking in the snow.

Every time we passed a snowman, he became cautious. He’d switch sides so he’d be between me and the snowman, and he’d walk next to me as he stared the snowman down. After we passed, he’d even throw back a glance or two to make sure we weren’t being followed.

He didn’t discriminate either: lawn ornaments or snowman actually made of snow got the same treatment.

And then Ozzy took it to the next level. Maybe it was because…

  • It was still dark.
  • The snowman had a tasty carrot nose.
  • The snowman had “fetching” stick arms. (Bwahaha! I crack myself up.)
  • Ozzy watched the movie Jack Frost, which is about a killer snowman.

But Ozzy actually lunged at the snowman. Luckily, the snowman was unharmed.

Ozzy doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, so I’m sure he just wanted to play, but still….

So later that day, Ozzy and I played in the snow. He pranced in the snow and chased snowballs. Then I decided to build a snowman for Ozzy to play with.

Do not play with snowballs and then build a snowman. Ozzy just assumed I was making giant snowballs for him to eat and crush.

Here’s how the first 3 attempts ended:


You can see Ozzy dashing off after crushing the snowball base. Jerk….

 Only after Ozzy was sufficiently exhausted was a snowman allowed to stay.


You’re only still here because I’m too tired to eat you. Tomorrow, you’re mine.

Next Day Followup: I’m sad to report that the snowman you see above is no longer…although I suspect Radley was Ozzy’s accomplice in the demise.

Favorite Comments From Last Post:

  • “It appears you are misunderstanding this “nesting instinct” thing. You don’t have to clean anything – just get a bunch of sticks together.”—Pegoleg
  • “Your position on the changing table and crib is absolutely reasonable, especially because, if those items are anything like my Ikea furniture, it is going to take him at least 4 weeks and 47 beers to assemble them. Chop chop, Kiefer, chop chop.”—PinotNinja

This Is Why Cats Hate Dogs

Remember the post about Esme and Ozzy cuddling up together on the bed?

This was the picture:


Only before that picture, there was this picture:

Esme: Seriously?

Esme: Seriously?

That’s why Ozzy looks a little embarrassed in that first pic. Esme scolded him.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “…Then it was all about the peeing, the endless peeing. When my water broke, I called up my OB and wasn’t sure, because I thought, ‘Maybe I’m just peeing nonstop?’”—She’s a Maineiac


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