At Least It Wasn't My Bono Purse
Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Around 4 years ago, Miss Paris Hilton was just a little tyke, herself. One day, Julia came to me and said, "Momma, Bella has something shiny sticking out of her butt."

This is never good news.

With half-closed eyes in a wince, I lifted Miss Hilton's tail and did indeed see something gold and shiny, cascading down from the place where I reaaaaalllly didn't want to stick my face. 

I groaned upon closer inspection when I realized it was a necklace.  

An Add-A-Bead necklace. 

The ones with individual, small gold beads. 

I stress the word individual. 

I swallowed hard and turned to Julia and said shakily, "Go get me a pair of rubber gloves."

It was a very long necklace and to add to the fun, the necklace string was elastic.

That's right— like a rubber-band.  And boy, did it ever stretch.

I'm sure Paris Hilton found it on the floor of one of the Dung Beetles' rooms, (since the floor is where they keep all their jewelry), and thought to herself, an elastic Add-A-Bead necklace would most certainly make a fine, delectable snack. 

Now . . .  there are times in life when it is a complete pleasure to linger, moments that are worth savoring, things you never want to see end. A succulent glass of wine. A hot dream involving Bono and leather. A glorious sunset. An amazing vacation. The company of a charming man. A silly moment with a sweet-faced toddler. Savoring a heavenly slice of Campfire Pie at Cindy's Backstreet Kitchen in St. Helena, California. 

All beautiful moments to linger in.

Pulling an elastic beaded necklace in slow motion out of a nervous dog's ass is not one of those times. 

It was one of the most vile moments of my life as I painstakingly pulled very slowly, hoping to God my puppy's rectum wouldn't freeze up and snap off those beads into a deep, black abyss, a chasm way too horrifying for me to explore. 

She came out of it unscathed. I can't say the same for me. 

I took away from that spectacularly icky experience, 2 bits of wisdom. The de-assing of that stinkin' necklace would be the worst thing that stupid dog would put me through and dogs will eat anything. 

About 2 weeks ago, my puppies leapt over the walls of the Mac Daddy penthouse my hubby had built for them. Since they are growing into giant, mutant puppies, this was an easy feat. 

I knew it was time to bring out the crate. But, truly I didn't have the heart.

People who crate-train, swear by it. We bought the crate for Bella because of all the crate-swearers. I found I did more swearing with it than anything else, honestly.

There was that first night we brought her home. We encouraged her to think of it as her own little nest with her toys and blankie, but like me, I think she looked at those wires and thought, "Great. I've been sent to dog prison! What did I do? Who are these jailers?"

She cried. She cried a lot. 

It was Julia who noticed the cries becoming sharper. 

She came flying downstairs to tell us the dog's mouth was stuck around the wire. 

We ran up and found her trapped, her mouth yawning open, her tooth hooked around a wire, most certainly from an attempt to gnaw her way to freedom. 

My Hubby tried valiantly for several minutes to wedge her free. He finally looked at me and said, "I think I'm going to have to break the tooth."

I urged him to keep trying and finally after agonizing minutes, we were able to wrangle the hysterical puppy free.

She has slept snuggled between us ever since. Here she is on Bella's Bed, as she now refers to it, lounging with the Lovely Lena. 

Delilah and Sophie scaled the walls in the middle of the night. After escaping, they huddled up together in one mop-head bundle and simply fell asleep.

Since that night, I've only had to lay out their favorite blankie, bid them goodnight and close the doors. Simple and sweet. 

That is, until two nights ago. 

I woke up, as usual at the dawn's breaking, to the sounds of their cries and soft scratches at my door. No matter how tired I am, I love their waggy-body greeting, the way they cover me in their puppy kisses, overjoyed to greet me every single morning. 

But on this morning, something was different. 

There were shredded strings of leather, everywhere. EVERYWHERE. 

Looking around, I couldn't figure out what in the world they'd chewed up. Did the Village People break in while I was sleeping and the watchdogs shred them to death?

And then I saw it.

They had eaten my couch. 

The corner of my beautiful couch looked like Annie Oakley's Wild West Jacket. 

I wish I could show you just for the shock value alone, but alas, we are still having uploading problems here and I am like the scarecrow, if I only had a brain, when it comes to technology. And my Hubby refuses to leave work to help me upload the camera so I can get these pictures on my durn blog. 

He's mean like that. 

Trust me when I say it's bad. But since I have no pictures, here's a picture of them wrestling around on a pile of laundry while destroying my Longaberger napkin basket, just to give you a miniscule inkling of their propensity for vandalism. (My hubby wouldn't have been so eager to snap this moment, if he actually realized the RIDICULOUS price of anything Longaberger.)

And guess what? There ARE worse things a puppy can do to you than force you to play tug of war with their ass! You figure this out when you no longer have anywhere to sit.

I now understand my mother-in-law's bewilderment when the girls were little and busy coloring on walls and leaving a path of destruction in their wake. She asked me, her brows knit in a tight frown,"Now, explain to me why your generation doesn't believe in plopping kids in a playpen?" 

Crates. A good thing. A very good thing. 

Today's Definite Download: Black Eyed Peas, "I Gotta Feeling" Have I mentioned how much I love  Like I would give anything to be a part of his posse—just the person who holds his umbrella when it rains or the person who holds the bodyguard's umbrella—just to be next to him—to inhale his musical brilliance. I love him like that.  

My Hubby might have some really sweet tickets lined up for tonight's concert. I'm not feeling that fancy today. I haven't been sleeping well, (stories you won't believe for another day). I may or may not have a little stomach bug coming on. It's freezing cold and supposed to be even colder tonight, BUT, if these tickets materialize, I am sliding on my stilettos, glossing up my lips and braving the arctic winds, cause "I gotta feelin that tonight's gonna be a good night, that tonight's gonna be a good, good night."

Tonight's the night, let's live it up
I got my money, let's spend it up
Go out and smash it like oh my God
Jump off that sofa, let's get, get off

At least he HAS a sofa. That's all I'm sayin'.


Mrs. Ohtobe said...

Oh. My Gawd - I'm dying laughing.

Lisa said...

Me too. Dying laughing. And you have helped confirm my determination to get an adult dog.

I love "I got a feeling". Love Will.I.Am. Love Fergie.
Hope you get to go!!

There's been a stomach bug going around up here too...I hope that's not what you have...hope you feel better!

PS. CRATE!! If it still makes you think of prison, just think - if YOU went out and vandalized someone's home, YOU'D be in the slammer too!!

Paula said...

I have both Longaberger baskets (I audibly gasped when I read that they chewed one) and a leather couch so I'm NOT laughing about that. My husband would be planning to make matching table lamps out of those puppies.

My sainted mother once had to remove a Handi-Wipe from our Dalmation's bunghole, but, as the Handi-Wipe wasn't periodically knotted, that was nothing compared to the Add-A-Bead necklace. (That part was funny!)

Kelly said...

They're just darn lucky they're so cute otherwise they'd be in serious trouble.

When my Lucy was in the teething stage, I had to make sure all bedroom doors were closed because she loved to eat shoes. One day my offspring left my bedroom door opened and Lucy devoured the toes off my favorite pair of boots. She looked at me with her big dopey eyes and I just couldn't stay mad at her. So I stayed mad at my kids since they were the ones who left the bedroom door open.

They got used to their crate while Lucy slept in their beds.

Terraplane said...

Love me some and Fergie, too. Hope you get to go out tonite.

Terraplane said...

As god is my witness, I will never look at an Add A Bead necklace the same way again. I love it when life imitates art (or irritates Art)

Aunt Becky said...

Bwahahahaha! Yeah, we crated Auggie. It was wise. VERY wise. Still can't believe he's alive, but that's neither here nor there.

ProudSister said...

Too funny. I keep reminding my toddler that she better be glad she's so cute or I'd return her to the hospital. Those pups are adorable but I'll take the purple crayon marks that I have everywhere over a chewed couch any day.

LisaPie said...

Not the sofa!!! OMG. That is painful to read about. I have 3 dogs currently and only one of them is a chewer. He is a bad, bad chewer! Very orally fixated, he is. I would be crying is what I would be doing.

The worst pull-out-of-the-dog's-butt story I have really belongs to a friend of mine. Panty hose. Her dog was a doberman and he ate her panty hose. Almost as elastic and stretchy as your add a bead necklace. : )

Have a great time at the concert. Oh, and you will have a much better time if you crate those wildebeests beforehand so that you know what they are doing while you are away.

The Furry Godmother said...

Terra and I had a cat named Myshkin who ate the tinsel off the Christmas trees. I liked to think she was decorating the litter box for the holidays.

It was filled with sparkly Christmas poo.

Insanitykim said...

Wow!Speechless! Almost...

The visuals I have in my head are gonna make for some interesting dreams tonight. THANK YOU for not posting any pix of removing that necklace from your dog's pooper shooter! hahahah!

Shelley said...

Oh my, I can't even imagine if it had been the Bono purse. Those crapheads would have been in some serious...crap.

That picture, from the Village People? Is just wrong on so many levels. I can't decide what's worse: the porn mustache, the hat, or the strategically placed chains.

And by the way, while I was reading the part about you pulling the necklace out of the dog's nether region, I was eating an Oreo. I think it might be a long time before I eat another one.

Dawn in D.C. said...

Been there, done that. Have lost two Longaberger baskets to a bulldog puppy. It was not pretty.

No crate here, but they do have their very own puppy pied-a-terre. It's a small hallway that I blocked at both ends.

Your add a bead story beats my cat eating Easter grass story. Same result in the end. bahahaha

Suzanne said...

Oh. My. God. I'm so in love with your blog. I don't have a house full of puppies anymore, but I do have a grown litter of nine black lab mixes. They were born about a month after we rescued an abandoned female. She got sick so we bottle fed these nine pups every two hours. It took and hour and a half to feed them. When they were born the vet put a paper collar around their necks and numbered them 1-9. We just kept putting new collars on them so we could tell them apart while keeping track of their weights (using a postage scale) while they periodically tried to die on us. It was not our best time. By the time that the pups had stabilized, and we had more than 20 consecutive minutes of sleep, the pups had learned their "number". They're three years old, the loves of our life and still named, numbers ;-) One day I'll tell you the story of when I had to pull one of my husband's socks out of Nine's rear end.

Joann Mannix said...

Again, thank you, Suzanne!

If you keep leaving comments and I have no way of getting ahold of you, I'll go crazy! I so hope you get these. Thank you very much.

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