Thursday, November 13, 2008

what's wrong with this picture?


Yes, obviously, you see that there's a couch standing on end in our living room. That's not it. It's also not that I've still got a jack-o-lantern on display two weeks after Halloween. I'm a new mom. It will probably still be there in June. Move on, look deeper. See it? The cat atop the side turned couch? THAT's what's wrong.


MY PETS ARE DRIVING ME BONKERS. My dog barks. At everything, at anything, at nothing. The phone rings, bark. I clip my nails, bark. The baby sneezes, bark. God forbid you'd like to use the onion chopper. BARK. I'm certain A's first words will be "GRIFFIN, NO BARK!!!!" Yes, I did my breed research before getting a Sheltie. I knew they barked a bit more than the average dog, as I spent many days of my teenage youth with a wonderful family who had an impressive, spirited collection of Sheltie dogs (hi Kay!) And I accept my bark happy Griffin with a shrug most days, because he's simply cute and sweet enough to overlook his yap-yap-yapping. But other days, I tell him he's off to the sausage factory if I hear ONE.MORE.BARK. In response, he looks at me blankly. Then barks.


Then there's our cats. Ralph, he pees. Right, I realize we all pee, sort of a necessary bodily function. But Ralph pees inappropriately, a result of his vet-diagnosed anxiety "issues". (Note: we've investigated the matter fully- there's nothing physically wrong with Ralph. He's just emotionally troubled.) And for some reason, he chose my Pottery Barn sofa as his ONE object of obsession, so we've taken to covering it with plastic, keeping Stanley Steamer on speed dial, and buying stock in Nature's Miracle. To hasten the eventual premature death of my sofa, George has decided the couch is his personal scratching post. Whyyyyyy? I have ONE piece of beautiful upholstered Pottery Barn goodness to my name. Whyyyyy must they ruin this for me? My mom and I, as we discussed this predicament for the 100th time, decided the couch had to go away for awhile. Remove the temptation for long enough to break the bad habits. So earlier today, I tipped it on end and shoved it between the bookshelf and the wall. HA! Try getting to my couch now, evil felines!

Yeah, nice try. An hour later I went downstairs, and then thought "hmmm...haven't seen George in awhile". Then I looked up. And there he was, smug and snug atop my sofa. He got up, stretched lazily, and then clawed at the arm of the couch as I stood there looking up at him in helpless frustration.


UNCLE. I give up. We'll just go all minimalist and not have furniture anymore. The couch would eventually have met its' demise anyway when Anderson discovers crayons.

Since we're on the animal topic, a shot of Anderson with his Mister Monkey. The look on his face makes me giggle. "Uh...mom....are you aware that there's a monkey on me? Help? Hulloh? Anybody?"

1 comment:

Sara Lamb said...

1. This blog cracked me up because I can really relate to the animal issues and you are hilarious!

2. My best friend's son's first words were literally, "Aussie, get down!" Yes, as in yelling at their dog to get down :-( It took us a while to get what he was saying, but now he says it clear as day.
Good luck! Hehe