Go to Sleep Mr. Perfect !

I was awakened by the sounds of a canine troublemaker frolicking in the living room last night.  Assuming it was Mack, and since a trip to the bathroom had now become necessary, I threw myself out bed, in a valiant attempt to halt any impending revolt in its tracks.

Mack and Norman were sound asleep, but Seamus, YES Seamus, the 11+ year old, hard of hearing, slow to NO moving, partially blind, one lunged, poster child for rule followers, and illustrious wise sage of the pack, was jumping lunging with attitude, around the room, with a couch pillow in his mouth, shaking it, for all it was worth.  

Nothing can describe this moment in time better than the immortal words of 3 year old despondent Tyler Griffis upon learning he was not allowed to play mini hockey at midnight: “Why is this happening?” 

As I stood in the dark, cold living room in shock, trying to come to terms with the treachery and pandemonium before me, thoughts raced through my mind.  

How did older than dirt Seamus manifest the energy to do this ??  

Was this a glimpse into the secret underworld of night ?? 

Does Seamus have an alter ego I don’t know about ?? 

One sadly, ever-present thought quietly nagged at me. In the blink of an eye, reality crash around me and the situation became crystal clear:  “OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO WET MY PANTS !!”

"GIVE ME THAT" I screamed, as I grabbed the damp pillow from the exalted one’s hairy mouth, and hobbled to the bathroom, as fast as my pretzeled legs could carry me.

  

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ABANDONED

Yesterday I went outside to feed the animals.  While walking across the yard to the barn, there in the middle of the snow, all by itself, left apparently right where it fell out of a body, was a chicken egg. 

Did one of the new ladies fail to read the Policies Section of the welcome packet ?  

Was this the work of an AntiSnow Chicken sleeper cell or the youthful rebellion of someone with issues at home ?  

Did something happen during the trip to the nest or was she just lazy and gave up ?  

Stay tuned while we keep an eye on this unfolding situation.

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Battle of the Bedroom

Two months ago, after 34 years of marriage and many big dogs, it occurred to me that perhaps a better night’s sleep was possible, if you slept in a bed without 250 collective pounds of dogs surrounding you.

 

We put a gate on our bedroom door, and waited expectantly to arise each morning, spring out of bed, and face the day with a youthful and triumphant vigor.  Well apparently, mid 50’s is the gateway to broken down body hell, so that didn’t happen, but we kept the gate up anyway.  (Golden years my a$$) 

 

Surprisingly Seamus and Norman adjusted to the new bedroom ban, quite well.  Mack, on the other hand, is apparently more resistant to change. 

 

On random nights, he will intermittently head butt the gate, loudly sigh, grumble, and complain, then continue campaigning until he convinces the other two, that their lives are also ruined.  After a brief group discussion and airing of grievances, everyone begins howling.  The hounds from hell proudly sing the song of their people until they either lose interest, or mild-mannered Farmer Howard by day AKA Crazy Angry Bear when awakened at night, threatens to behead each and every one of them.  

 

The following mornings, Mack’s bored, disgruntled nighttime trail of woe is visible.  Throw pillows, blankets and random shoes are strewn about, any napkin left out is chewed up, and previous neatly stacked papers have been thoroughly schnuffled, and left to lie where they fell.

 

Who will blink first ~ me or Mack ?  

 

I recently purchased a new comforter for our king size bed.  I did not look for the perfect shade of Dark Mud to best hide muddy paw prints, slobber and dog hair.  I did not search only durable fabrics that contain words like “indoor/outdoor”, “waterproof”, and “lifetime warranty”.  I did not look for the laundry symbol that means: can survive frequent washing without 

disintegration.

 

I chose a high thread count, luxurious, HGTV design house worthy, absolutely crazy all white with a delicately stitched black border, comforter.  I feel like I sleep in a fancy hotel bed now.     

 

Game on Mack.  Your master bedroom days are over.  

 

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