I've been up since 3:30am with raging allergies and sinus problems. What didn't help me get back to sleep is the fact I've started the damn "The Da Vinci Code." I knew I shouldn't have read this book. It reinforces so many of the theories I've suspected for years. I knew it was going to get me riled up.
I've got to get ready for work, but I'm exhausted, my eyes are red and my nose a constant faucet. Did I mention the pounding headache?! Alas, another day...
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
The Pug and the Roll
So I haven't written in a long time. There are various reasons. For one, I feel I can't really write about work. What if someone reads it, I breach trust and then get fired? Currently, work takes a large part of my life. Consequently, I don't write about what occupies me most. It's really rather tragic, since some stories are rather funny. Sigh...
I could write about my friends are some of the situations we get into. However, my blog got out due to an unfortunate mass mailing, so I'm always afraid to offend. I know I should just take a stand and give my creative side the edge, but alas, I am a middle child and the habitual people pleaser. Well, sort of...
Anyway, today's story is of how I'm teaching my dog to stuff his feelings with food. It's tragic really. The pug is now 12 years old. Scary to think of that in dog years. Every time I get ready to leave the house the extreme last thing I do is give him a snack. I rush out as he's chowing down on a piece of cheese. I nearly break my neck to avoid making eye contact when he's done so I don't have to see that "what, you're abandoning me?" look. Let's face it, he's a pug. He'd look sad if I fed him a pound of cheese while sitting on my lap for 24 solid hours. But I've started this sick tradition of feeding him before abandoning him as though that makes it better and easier to bear. Feeding my feelings for 43 years hasn't helped me a bit. Now why do I think it will help the pug?
So anyway, I make it a habit to actually pick up doggy bags when I can. Yes, I can say when I pack the leftovers, I'm actually bringing them home to possibly feed the dog. The leaving the house treat is always a good one, cheese, a bit of meat, never just regular dog food. On Saturday my friend and I dined on soup and sandwhiches at a cute little European style bistro. They brought a bowl of homeade rolls and butter with a tall glass of water with a requisite three tiny ice cubes. (This ain't Paris, honey, so don't try and kid yourself! I truly love doing the European thing, but honey I've never warmed to the ice issue!) Ever the dutiful mom, I wrapped the leftover rolls in napkins and stuffed them into my tiny purse.
On Sunday, as I headed out the door to dine at a friend's home for dinner, I unwrapped what appeared to be yummy roll and gave it to the pug. He snatched it and ran to the front room. I snuck out the door feeling pleased with myself. When I returned I walked in and noted the pug curled in his kitchen bed. He stood, stretched and ran to greet me. The sad little roll lay in the corner of the bed, completely intact. That's funny, he usually scarfes the food immediately. We go to the front room and watch a bit of tv before bed. Minutes later, he runs into the front room and proudly places the roll in the tv room bed. (Yes, he has a bed in nearly every room of the house.) He stares at it and rolls it around, then comes and sits in my lap.
On Monday morning the roll made it back to the kitchen bed. By Monday night he was playing with it in his bed in my bedroom. Eat the damn thing already! Tuesday morning the roll is back in the corner of the kitchen bed. Later in the evening it's back in the TV room bed. He walks round the bed eyeing the stale bread. He gets in the bed and puts his nose to the roll. He stands there for minutes with his nose to the roll, not moving, not attempting to eat it. I watch in wonder. What is going through his mind?
I decide to draw a bubble bath for a nice long soak before bed. As I step into the tub a friend calls to talk. As I lay in the bubbles discussing my day, the pug runs into the bathroom and stares at me. He turns and runs out. Minutes later he's back, you guessed it, with the roll in his mouth. He places it on a pile of dirty clothes and stares at it. Then he turns and comes to lay on another pile of clothes next to the tub. He now completely ignores the roll.
I get out of the tub and survey the mess that is my bathroom. Piles of dirty clothes, an Oprah magazine that fell in the corner, and now a stale, 2 day old roll sitting proudly in the middle of the floor. I shrug, tomorrow is another day and I'll clean and pack for the Easter weekend then. I return to my bedroom and decide it's time to blog. The pug follows and sits on his bed in my bedroom. Then he leaves. I'm sure the roll is now on it's way to my bedroom. But he returns empty handed. (OK, empty-mouthed.) I continue typing then turn to see what he's up to. A pillow fell off my bed and he's proudly stretched across it. His bed sits empty next to him. Apparently, with the comfort of my pillow, he doesn't need the crutch of a stale piece of bread.
I'm curious to see how long that damn bread is going to stay around.
I could write about my friends are some of the situations we get into. However, my blog got out due to an unfortunate mass mailing, so I'm always afraid to offend. I know I should just take a stand and give my creative side the edge, but alas, I am a middle child and the habitual people pleaser. Well, sort of...
Anyway, today's story is of how I'm teaching my dog to stuff his feelings with food. It's tragic really. The pug is now 12 years old. Scary to think of that in dog years. Every time I get ready to leave the house the extreme last thing I do is give him a snack. I rush out as he's chowing down on a piece of cheese. I nearly break my neck to avoid making eye contact when he's done so I don't have to see that "what, you're abandoning me?" look. Let's face it, he's a pug. He'd look sad if I fed him a pound of cheese while sitting on my lap for 24 solid hours. But I've started this sick tradition of feeding him before abandoning him as though that makes it better and easier to bear. Feeding my feelings for 43 years hasn't helped me a bit. Now why do I think it will help the pug?
So anyway, I make it a habit to actually pick up doggy bags when I can. Yes, I can say when I pack the leftovers, I'm actually bringing them home to possibly feed the dog. The leaving the house treat is always a good one, cheese, a bit of meat, never just regular dog food. On Saturday my friend and I dined on soup and sandwhiches at a cute little European style bistro. They brought a bowl of homeade rolls and butter with a tall glass of water with a requisite three tiny ice cubes. (This ain't Paris, honey, so don't try and kid yourself! I truly love doing the European thing, but honey I've never warmed to the ice issue!) Ever the dutiful mom, I wrapped the leftover rolls in napkins and stuffed them into my tiny purse.
On Sunday, as I headed out the door to dine at a friend's home for dinner, I unwrapped what appeared to be yummy roll and gave it to the pug. He snatched it and ran to the front room. I snuck out the door feeling pleased with myself. When I returned I walked in and noted the pug curled in his kitchen bed. He stood, stretched and ran to greet me. The sad little roll lay in the corner of the bed, completely intact. That's funny, he usually scarfes the food immediately. We go to the front room and watch a bit of tv before bed. Minutes later, he runs into the front room and proudly places the roll in the tv room bed. (Yes, he has a bed in nearly every room of the house.) He stares at it and rolls it around, then comes and sits in my lap.
On Monday morning the roll made it back to the kitchen bed. By Monday night he was playing with it in his bed in my bedroom. Eat the damn thing already! Tuesday morning the roll is back in the corner of the kitchen bed. Later in the evening it's back in the TV room bed. He walks round the bed eyeing the stale bread. He gets in the bed and puts his nose to the roll. He stands there for minutes with his nose to the roll, not moving, not attempting to eat it. I watch in wonder. What is going through his mind?
I decide to draw a bubble bath for a nice long soak before bed. As I step into the tub a friend calls to talk. As I lay in the bubbles discussing my day, the pug runs into the bathroom and stares at me. He turns and runs out. Minutes later he's back, you guessed it, with the roll in his mouth. He places it on a pile of dirty clothes and stares at it. Then he turns and comes to lay on another pile of clothes next to the tub. He now completely ignores the roll.
I get out of the tub and survey the mess that is my bathroom. Piles of dirty clothes, an Oprah magazine that fell in the corner, and now a stale, 2 day old roll sitting proudly in the middle of the floor. I shrug, tomorrow is another day and I'll clean and pack for the Easter weekend then. I return to my bedroom and decide it's time to blog. The pug follows and sits on his bed in my bedroom. Then he leaves. I'm sure the roll is now on it's way to my bedroom. But he returns empty handed. (OK, empty-mouthed.) I continue typing then turn to see what he's up to. A pillow fell off my bed and he's proudly stretched across it. His bed sits empty next to him. Apparently, with the comfort of my pillow, he doesn't need the crutch of a stale piece of bread.
I'm curious to see how long that damn bread is going to stay around.
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