(Second) Best In Breed

I wish you had been on my walk with me today. I wrote the BEST blog post. In my head.

I said to Phila, "okay, don't let me forget this. I'm going to tell it to you." And I did.

She cracked up. It was really a great post. We had a great walk.

I love having a Poodle. They are so smart, and you can teach them anything.

When Phi and I got home from our walk, we were starving. And by the time we figured out what we were in the mood to eat, and ate it, she had forgotten what my blog post was about. 

I should have made her sit there until she remembered, but I'm just not a Tiger Mom. I'm not even a Poodle Mom.

Right now, I'm on the living room couch, where Phila is not allowed. She is next to me (on the couch. Where she is not allowed), her stinky, funky river-water wet head in my lap. I was too hungry after our walk to towel her off before we came into the house. And now I'm too full to get off the couch and dry her. Plus, the couch is already soaking wet and funky. And we're so cozy right now.

It seems easier to just buy a new couch at this point.

Maybe sixty years old is too old to raise a puppy. I've let all my standards and expecations lapse. It's hard enough for me to be to be housebroken when I laugh hard.

Although, truth be told, I was pretty much a slacker mom even when I was young and raising my human children. I was just so tired all the time. I always had a headache. It was the 80's, which were an exhausting decade. Being angry at Ronald Reagan took almost all my energy. And any energy that was left, I needed to keep my shoulder pads from slipping down to my boobs.

I let my kids watch TV as soon as they woke up in the morning because when they were little, they woke up at five a.m. and fuck if I was going to jump out of bed and start my day. So I had them crawl into bed with me, gave them, I don't know, pork rinds and chewing tobacco, and turned on the TV so they could watch The Farm Report, which was the only thing on TV at five a.m. in the early 80's. I'd doze on and off for an hour while they watched, and then I'd wake up up and we would discuss commodity costs and milk production estimates and livestock gross margins over breakfast.

After breakfast, we'd linger over coffee and then we watched Donahue together. 

My toddler used to run around the house with a microphone, working the empty room.

"Is the caller there?" he'd ask the walls.

"Women need to be responsible for their own orgasms!" he'd tell visitors. Precious.

I was too tired to raise them to be Poodle smart. I am Basset Hound lazy, at best. However, they were able to sniff out the kale I tried to hide in their peanut butter sandwiches. So there was that.

Phila is just going to have to raise herself, I suppose. Donahue is off the air, and anyway, Phi prefers The Lifetime Channel.

Oh, and one more thing: if you don't mind, would you please "like" me on my dr. strangemom Facebook Page? Even if you don't like me in real life. Thanks. I've been told I need to create more buzz. Whatever the fuck that means. 

 

 

Comments

[Cathy Ladman]

Ann, I love this. I will emphatically "like" your page, if I've not already.

[Peggy Eurman]

How did I miss this one??? Too FUNNY... needs to go VIRAL, no - EBOLA on the internet. Actually influenza is more contagious but you get the point. I wish I was more of a techie so could figure out how to help with that. But for now, will LIKE, no - LOVE this!

[Becky]

this is awesome.made my day