First Blood

The Diva Homestead has been invaded by a seemingly innocuous, gentle species. They're sweet-looking, cute and fuzzy.
Yes, I'm talking about the Lagomorpha Leporidae.

I prefer to call them the "wascally wabbits".

We started having problems with them last year when they discovered my hostas in the front yard. We're trying to avoid them attacking our lovely tomatoes and herbs and many assorted young trees in the back yard.

However, we're a peaceful people, and haven't resorted to anything more extreme than spraying fox urine around the plant beds.

Yesterday, Princess the Wonder Dog changed all that.

Diva Nana and I were sitting out on the patio, enjoying a break in the humidity and watching the dog run around the yard. Suddenly I heard it.

It.

Yes, it.

It was the most horrible squeaking, squealing sound I can ever remember hearing. It is burned into my eardrums for all eternity.

I immediately knew that Princess had used her wondrous powers for evil, and ran over to the fence.

She had discovered a nest of the creatures, and helped herself to the contents. One of the poor little things had become her toy and was making the noise.

I summoned Diva Husband to come to the rescue of the quickly expiring creature, and he disposed of it. Unfortunately, there was really no way to keep nature from taking her course, and pretty soon Princess had made short order of FIVE of the little bunnies.

I tried to block the aural and visual images from my mind by humming "Circle of Life" from "The Lion King".

It didn't work.

Now that she's had her "First Blood", I'm just hoping Princess the Wonder Dog doesn't go all Rambo on us.

What Did You Say?!

As a little girl, I remember playing house. I was always the mommy. My dolls were the babies, and I took care of them. As I grew up, I always assumed that one day I would get married and have real babies of my own. In a million years, however, I never imagined some of the things that would come from my mouth once those children were a reality...

"Don't sit on the dog's head!"

P3, our dog, is a saint. We adopted her at 8 weeks, so she's never really known anything else, but The Manimal, who had just turned one when we got her, is a bit, well, rough. He sits on her head, pulls her tail, and pushes her out the door. All is forgiven, however, because he is also her main source of treats.

"Remember, the broom is for sweeping the floor, nowhere else."

The Manimal loves to "help mommy", including sweeping. Unfortunately, he does not limit his sweeping to the floor. It often appears that he is fencing some unseen opponent, and in the process, wreaking havoc with the broom/epee.

"Don't bite my butt!"

Does this really need explanation? They have both bitten me THERE. I guess because I'm 5'10", my backside is mouth level for toddlers.

"WHY did you poop on the footstool?"

We're potty training. 'Nuff said

"WHY did you poop on the floor?"

We're potty training. Clearly the boy doesn't understand that poop goes in the potty.

"Get off your brother's head!"

I have two boys. Whenever they're together for more than 2 minutes, some sort of wrestling is bound to ensue.

"No, you can't have chocolate cookies for breakfast."

Although I confess to occasionally considering them, a la Bill Cosby.

"Mommy's shoes are not for dog poop."

He decided since his brother used the Pooper Scooper to clean up the backyard, that he would use my shoes. Fortunately I caught him BEFORE he did the deed.

"Don't touch the poop!"

See previous references.

"Pianos are not ladders!"

Apparently, boys like to climb.

What have you said that you never dreamed you'd hear?

In Case You Weren't Aware

So I was in the shower this morning and had a coughing fit. The Manimal came into the bathroom and asked "Mom, you OK?" I assured him that I was, and off he went.

A minute later, he came in and asked "Mom, Pincess OK?" Since I hadn't heard the dog barking, coughing or puking, I assured him that both the dog and I were fine.

Two seconds later, he'd returned to the bathroom. "Mom," he said. "Pincess don't talk."

Dog: It's What's for Dinner

NOT! But apparently pets can be considered an additional food source, as can leather furniture or clothing. Who knew? Evidently we could survive for nearly 3 months, if for some reason, we couldn't leave our home!


OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

Friday Follies

Monkey is having an absolute blast with the Diva Family. The Manimal and SS#1 have regular arguments over who gets to entertain their guest. Stay tuned later today to hear his escapades of the last two days, including authentic Mexican food, a trip to the dentist, his ride down Historic Route 66 and how Monkey became an honorary Flyer! :)

He's Here! He's Here!

Our favorite Canadian Simian arrived safely at the Diva Household yesterday and didn't seem too much the worse for wear. After some acclimation, he went straight for the bananas. He was thrilled to see that we'd prepared well for his visit.

The Manimal immediately claimed Monkey as his own.
Unfortunately, he was very perplexed as to where the rest of Monkey's socks were. He felt that the other appendages must be cold, since they didn't have the nice warm fuzzy socks.
After his trip, Monkey was content to watch a bit of after-school television with The Manimal (especially since other animals were the subject!).

Later we discovered that Monkey had a knack for spelling, as he helped Sweet Son #1 with his homework. Of course, anyone who can spell W-I-N-N-I-P-E-G, M-A-N-I-T-O-B-A is sure to be a spelling bee champion.

Monkey was thrilled to find out that he'd be enjoying some "local cuisine" for dinner, as we introduced him to the Chicago Hot Dog. No ketchup on this dog, thankyouverymuch. Just mustard, chopped tomatoes and a bit of celery salt. Monkey enjoyed his hot dog dinner immensely.
After a long day of travel, Monkey was pretty exhausted. We'd set up the guest room for him, but he chose to bunk with his new best bud and some other friends he'd made. We had our story and it was time to snuggle down for the night.

Sweet Dreams!

Next....Monkey is headed off to second grade with SS#1, and because of his academic prowess, will head right to college!

A Bird in the Hand is...

Our dog-who-thinks-she's-just-a-four-legged-human LOVES the snow. She loves sitting in it. She loves romping in it in that way puppies-at-heart are wont to do. She loves rubbing her nose in it. She loves eating it, even the disgusting yellow stuff. If it's falling from the sky, she loves barking at it. She loves digging in it.

That last one never bothered me until the other night.

I'd let her out after dinner (for about the millionth time since we got home. She loves the snow.) and heard the familiar scratching. I let her in and caught a glimpse of a slightly snow-covered wad of sticks in her mouth.

Only, one of the sticks had small claws. Bird-shaped claws.

She knew she wasn't supposed to have it in the house, because as soon as she came in, she bolted. For the family room. The carpeted family room. Where my children were playing. On the floor. She looked liked the cat that swallowed the canary. Or the dog who nearly had.

And when I called "PRINCESS!" and chased her, she dropped it. Right on the carpet. Then she took refuge in her cage, with her tail between her legs and ears flat against her head.

And there it was. I'll save you from the gross details, but yes, it was a bird. Or at least it was at one time. I couldn't get to the paper towel and bags fast enough. She wanted her treasure back. Fortunately, I was able to get it before she returned a third time.

Most.Disgusting.Thing.Ever.

I don't think rottweilers or chows are bird dogs by nature, so maybe it's some weird result of combining the breeds. This is the second time she's gotten a bird. The first time it was alive when she brought her trophy into the house. At least this one was still when I cleaned it up.

So the adage "A bird in the hand..."? Better than a bird the mouth, I suppose.

Why Dogs Bite People

This was the title of an e-mail forward that I received recently. I'd love to credit the photographers or pet owners, but sadly, I can't. I can say that it does make sense. These canines must either have the patience of Job, or their owners pamper them to the point of royalty. They are the only two logical (or legal) explanations for the docile behavior while being forced to wear clothing (or costumes, as it were!).

I call her "Diva Dog".







Hula Girl here looks less than thrilled to be wearing that coconut bikini top. She probably hates her Ohana right now!



When cloning goes bad.





The irony of this costume is just too much to handle.



Maybe this dalmatian/holstein owner is from Wisconsin?

Sing it with me, now..."I'm leavin', 'cause I'm a jet plane!"

Queen, Doorknobs and Other Child-Related Topics

So one of Sweet Son #1's favorite songs as of late is the Queen standard "We Will Rock You". While I'm not completely sure where my sweet 7 year old first heard this oldie, I do know that he's heard it at baseball games and a recent excursion to a hockey game. He sings it EVERYWHERE.

What he doesn't realize (and I don't think I fully did until recently) is that The Manimal's language skills are developing at the speed of light. He repeats EVERYTHING.

Yesterday, M was playing with Play-Doh and chattering to himself (takes after Mom). I was only half-listening, but suddenly I heard "turn around and drop you" clear as a bell. As I tuned in, I realized he was singing the song, as sung by SS#1.

As I write this, he's marching around the house, diaper-less, carrying his potty chair flush against his little bottom chanting "hup! two, free, four!"

Now if he would only do the deed in the potty chair.

He has managed to breach the bathroom, and every other room in the house. Yes, dear readers, The Manimal has mastered the doorknob. Today's post-church shopping excursion was to purchase doorknob covers.

I didn't feel so bad though. After sharing his latest milestone with my pastor in church this morning, he shared a story about a friend who had to buy a refrigerator lock because her DOG figured out how to open the fridge. She discovered this when she came downstairs one morning and found food all over the kitchen floor. At least I don't have to dog-proof my house for the Princess! That might push me over the edge.

Hopefully Monty, Boston, Paris and Devil Dog aren't forcing their humans to pet-proof their homes. I think Marilyn's human is probably safe from such dangers. Although she may may have to be careful if Boston and Paris ever visit.

Cheers!

An Old Dog

Happy Birthday to Princess Poopy Puppy herself! Of course, being that she's one year old today means she's not really a puppy anymore, is she? Grande Dame Doggy, now? Nah, she'll always be our Princess! Sorry for the very bad photoshop job on the eyeballs. She had those scary red eyes and I just couldn't look at them anymore! :)

Cheers!

Raining Cats and Dogs...

No, it's not raining here in the Windy City. It's cold. As in, "I think winter's trying to push fall out the door" cold. 34 degrees Fahrenheit with a hard frost warning for tonight. Brrr...

I love my dog. Not in a "do anything for her she's really just a child with fur" sort of way, but she is a sweetie (most of the time), and it does make me sad when she has trouble getting up because her hips are (already) giving her problems and she's not even a year old yet. Princess Poopy Puppy has made herself part of our family: the four-legged Queen of the House.

We used to have a cat. A sweet, black kitty named Boo. Cats and dogs, as anyone familiar with either will tell you, are completely different personality-wise. Boo was the Queen of the House, but she was not the benevolent ruler that the current monarch is. Boo ruled from on high (the stereo speaker tower, to be precise) and deigned to let us pet her silky coat and allow us the privilege of feeding her and cleaning her toilette. This servitude did have its perks, however. Cats make great footwarmers at night. Of course, being nocturnal hunters by their nature, they also feel the need to attack the very same feet in the middle of the night.

But I digress.

Dogs tolerate all kinds of humanizing, like dressing them up for Halloween, wearing warm coats and little booties in the winter. Cats, on the other hand, are not so excited to be models for the latest haute couture. Witness Bianca, Midge's kitty in her new chapeau.

If looks could kill...

Cheers!

A Poet Laureate I Am Not

Why is it that my pup is so
driven to bolt out the door?
When we open it thus, it seems that we must
always scream at her "No Princess, NO!"

Enamored as she clearly is
With being out in the front yard.
You'd think that I'd know, out the door she will go
Restraining her, though, is so hard!

Cheers!

A Dog Possessed

Being relatively new to the world of canine ownership (or is that being owned by your canine?), I have a question for all of my fellow dog-lovers.

Is your dog possessed?

Once a day, usually in the evening, Princess Poopy Puppy starts running around our kitchen/family room area like she's on speed. from the fireplace to the stove, around the island, back to the fireplace, around the chairs and back again, she's like a whirling dervish.

If the Manimal is still awake, he just stands back and watches, head moving back and forth like he's watching the most intense match at Wimbledon. And on and on she runs, for 5 minutes or so. Then she stops to get a drink.

Then she's done.

My dog is possessed.

Cheers!

Going to the Dogs

I had a deprived childhood.

I never had a "real" pet. Oh, sure, we had the occasional fish, turtle, and once, I even convinced my parents to let us have a gerbil. The fish died within a week. I barely remember the turtle, so, honestly, he could've been a figment of my imagination. The gerbil lasted until winter. My mother would not let him live in the house (he was, after all, a rodent), so off he went to live with a friend of mine.

I'm sure there are those of you out there who feel that animals of the cold-blooded variety and rodent family are fine pets. I am not one of them. In my opinion (and since this is my blog, that's really what counts), you have to be able to cuddle a real pet. A real pet is one that cares when you are there or not there, and I'm not just referring to whether or not they get fed.

A few years back, hubby got me a kitten for my birthday (at my request). She was a sweet kitty, a black domestic shorthair (read "common housecat") that we rescued from a shelter. She was, as I understand it, very personable for a cat. When we would come home from work, she was waiting for us at the top of the stairs, and she loved to sleep at the foot of our bed. She graciously tolerated, and even pretended to like, my then-toddler son.

Unfortunately, we moved, and, due to circumstances beyond my control (read "my mother-in-law lives with us and hates cats"), we had to find a new home for my sweet kitty. As an aside, she's very happy in her new home and has established herself as Queen of the Household, with four humans, a dog, and another cat as her obedient, if not always willing, servants.

Dear hubby has always been a dog person. Grew up with them and has very specific ideas about what kind of dog makes a good pet. I like dogs, and have a few ideas of my own. We had decided to hold off until after baby son #2 was born and we had established a household routine before adding a canine to our busy home.

A few weeks back, the subject of a dog came up with son #1. The conversation went something like this:

Son #1: "Mommy, can we get a dog?"

Me: "Well, we might get a dog sometime, but not right now."

S#1: "What about a cat?"

Me: "No, sweetie, Grandma is afraid of cats."

S#1: "Oh yeah. What about a bird?"

Me: "Uhm. No."

S#1: (hopefully) "A rabbit?"

At this point I decided I'd better at least consider the possibility of a dog, or I might end up with a son who felt his childhood was deprived.

I'm the type to research things thoroughly before acting, so that's where I am. Researching German Shepherds, because, as my big dog-loving hubby says "they're loyal and good family dogs." I'm not opposed to big dogs as a general rule, but I have a few other breeds I'd like to check out. You'll be the first to know when a decision is reached.

Cheers!