14 November, 2011

Actual Conversations That Happen In This House

Me: Honey, do you want to come help me get pawprints from the dogs, or do you want to help me clean up later after the dogs have gotten fingerpaint all over the house?

Daniel: Um. The first one?

25 October, 2011

Actual Conversations That Happen Here

Daniel has been feeling unwell. So yesterday I took a break from straightening up my desk so I can get EXCELLENT pictures of baby chickens to go tell him I love him. While he was preparing to roast a chickenlandfish for our dinner.

Me: I love you.
Daniel: I love you more.
Me: No, I definitely love you more.
Daniel: You want a bag of giblets?
Me: What?! I come in here to tell you I love you and you offer me a bag of giblets?!
Daniel: It’s because I love you more. How about a landfish neck?
Me: I’m going to go blog this.

16 October, 2011

Actual Conversations at the Manor

Me, looking at a website: Ooo! We should get a mini-cow!
Daniel: What for?
Me: What do you mean what for? It’s a mini-cow!
Daniel: Yes but what will we do with it?
Me: We’ll have it! It’s a mini-cow!
Daniel: It’s livestock. We can’t have livestock.
Me: We’ll claim it’s a dog.
Daniel: It’s a mini-cow!
Me: Yes, but the Continental Kennel Club will register ANYTHING. We’ll get them to register it as a Great Dane.
Daniel: Then we have to register it with the county.
Me: Mini-cow!
Daniel: We do not need a mini-cow.
Me: You never let me have any fun.

4 January, 2011

I got 99 problems…

…they are all Tink.

This is only funny if you know the song by rap artist Jay-Z. Ahem.

So we have Noodlehead and Juniper inside. They are NEW AND FASCINATING CATS. Tink has a thing, you see. Cats she has lived with for a while, these are OLD AND BORING CATS. Tink can successfully ignore Roo, Brax, Aida, and even Emmaline, although mostly she ignores Emms because of catching claws to the nose one too many times.

Noods and Junie, though, my God. Tink is FASCINATED. She wants to follow them around staring at them. She wants to sniff their butts intrusively. She wants to sniff their ears even more intrusively than their butts. I do not know what it is about Tink and ears, but she has this fixation.

So a lot of the day goes like this:
Juniper: *enters room*
Tink: O HAI NEW AND FASCINATING CAT!
Juniper: MY GOD I JUST GOT A GIANT NOSE UP THE BUTT!
Me: Tink, leave it.
Tink: BUTBUTBUT CAT!
Me: I don’t care. Leave it.
Tink: BUT CAT!
Juniper: THAT TONGUE JUST TOUCHED MY BRAIN!
Tink: I LOVE YOU NEW CAT!
Juniper: I WILL KILL YOU WITH DEATH AND FIERCE!
Tink: HEEEEE! LITTLE CAT TRIED TO KILL ME!
Me: I said LEAVE IT.
Tink: Fine.
Five minutes: *passes*
Noodlehead: *enters room*
Tink: O HAI NEW AND FASCINATING CAT!
Noodlehead: I will kick your ass.
Me: Tink, she will kick your ass.
Tink: SHE WON’T I LOVE HER.
Noodlehead: I mean it. Ass-kicking in 10…9….8…
Me: Tink, leave it, seriously, you’re going to lose an eye.
Tink: THEY’RE NOT MUCH USE ANYWAY I WANT TO LICK HER EARS.
Me: Tink, I said lea–
Noodlehead: DIE WITH DEATH AND CLAWS AND TEETH INFIDEL.
Tink: *with bleeding nose* Maybe I should have thought that one through…

9 November, 2010

Actual Conversations That Happen in This House

Roo: STARVING TO DEATH.
Daniel: Get off the stove you daft beast!
Me: Just let him lick the roast.
Daniel: No!
Roo: VERY HUNGRY NEVER BEEN FED EVER.
Me: It would make him so happy if you let him gum the roast.
Daniel: He is not going to gum the roast.
Roo: I WOULD LIKE TO GUM THE ROAST NOW PLZKTHX.
Me: It’s raw! You’re going to cook it and that will kill the bacteria!
Daniel: He does not get to gum the roast. Just no.
Roo: SO HUNGRY.
Me: Can he have a teeny piece of it then?
Daniel: Fine. He can have a teeny piece of roast.
Roo: THAT WAS NOT ENOUGH FOOD.
Me: It really would make him happy if he could gum the roast.
Daniel: I love you.
Me: Is that “I love you even though you are badgering me about letting the cat gum dinner”?
Daniel: Yes. Yes it is.
Roo: STARVING.

9 August, 2010

My Shedder loves me.

The scene: Manor of Mixed Blessings, 0300. I am passed out on the futon in the living room because it was easier than trying to go to bed in my bedroom.[1]

Zille: Pssssst.
Me: Mfgsrkt?
Tink: Shhhh.
Zille: PSSSSSST.
Me: Wha?
Tink: SHHHHH.
Zille: I had a thought. What if we played fetchy?
Me: What time is it?
Tink: Sleeping time. #$#* off, Zille.
Zille: I am deeply wounded by Tink’s mean words.
Tink: They will be mean actions if you don’t stop.
Me: No fighting. It is three in the morning.
Zille: Could we play fetchy?
Me: No.
Zille: Are you sure?
Tink: I said SHUT UP.
Beowulf: Are we getting up?
Me: Yes, I am sure. No, we are not getting up. Tink, stop instigating and go back to sleep.
Tink: I didn’t instigate anything. She started it. And I’m not speaking to you, you had adventures without me.
Zille: Just a little fetchy?
Beowulf: Are there squirrels?
Me: No fetchy. No squirrels. Fine, Tink, sulk.
Zille: A teeny weeny bit of fetchy? Just throw it once? Look, I have the ball right. here.
Me: Ow. Thank you for dropping a tennis ball on my head.
Zille: It’s not problem. Maybe you could throw it?
Me: NO. NO FETCHY AT THREE IN THE MORNING.
Zille: Can I suck your toes?
Me: Fine. You can suck my toes. Just let me sleep.
Tink: If she gets to suck your toes, I’m going to stick my tongue in your ear.
Me: I DIDN’T EVEN WANT DOGS. I WANTED PET ROCKS.

In other news, Grace skipped breakfast yesterday morning but did show up for dinner, no longer looking pregnant. So now I get to keep tabs on her to see if she’s nursing so I know if any kittens survived. Noodlehead and Briar Rose are still massively pregnant, though.

[1] SLEEPING IN MY BEDROOM THESE DAYS MEANS MAKING A CHOICE: GO THROUGH ALL THE HASSLE OF MOVING THE KITTENS TO THE BATHROOM FOR THE NIGHT, OR GET INCESSANTLY BARKED AND WHINED AT FROM TINK AND ROO ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CLOSED DOOR? IT WAS EASIER TO JUST FALL OVER IN THE LIVING ROOM.

29 May, 2010

Video killed the radio star.

For your enjoyment: two videos, one of Breakfast At The Manor, starring Rooney Lee; and one of me attempting to leave the house with Beowulf en route to his vet appointment, starring the vocal stylings of Zille.

Breakfast At The Manor:

Transcript:
Video opens with a shot of a smallish orange and white Cornish Rex cat, the inimitable Rooney Lee, standing in the kitchen floor staring at the camera.
Roo: FEED ME. FEED ME NOW.
Tink, wandering briefly into frame: Is something interesting happening?
Me (off-camera as always): Let’s go get your bowl!
Roo: NO.
Camera turns as I turn to go down the hall to Roo’s room and get his bowl. We get a glimpse of the confused head of Braxton Bragg. Roo continues to issue demands.
Me: C’mon.
Roo: JUST FEED ME.
Me, turning the camera back so we can see Roo as he decides to follow me: C’mon, we gotta get your bowl!
Roo: Oh, fine. Let’s get my bowl.
Zille: I know where his bowl is! It’s right here!
Roo: My bowl’s right here! GET MY BOWL. PICK IT UP! Now go this way!
(Bowl is picked up and I turn to exit Roo’s room, showing girldogs in hallway)
Girldogs: Can we have food, too?
(I walk to kitchen, where Roo is waiting on the counter)
Roo: FEED ME NOW.
(I set the bowl on the counter, Roo checks it out)
Roo: THIS BOWL IS EMPTY GODDAMIT.
Me: It’s your bowl!
Roo: I know! BUT IT IS EMPTY. I love it anyway.
Me: Yeah.
Roo: Mine.
Me: It’s yours.
(Roo paces back and forth on the narrow strip of counter in front of the sink as I get his food from the fridge)
Roo: HURRY UP WITH THAT I AM STARVING. STARVING! MAKE WITH THE FOOD FOR THE LOVE OF CAT!
Me: Gross food. Setting camera down a sec.
Roo: Will this make you go faster with the food?
(The camera is placed on the counter so we get an excellent view of the side of the refrigerator and Roo’s bowl. Also, Roo’s feet as he continues to monitor the feeding process. Off-camera, some rustling of plastic as I open the ziploc bag holding Roo’s food.)
Roo: Hurry! Oh, I love my food. HURRY WITH THE FOOD.
(The camera is picked up again so that it gets a clear view of Roo’s breakfast being dumped into his bowl, and Roo beginning to chow down. Everyone loves a happy ending!)

Zille Has Hysterics:

The video opens with a shot of the stove and a corner of my counters. It is quite dark, because it is 0545 and I have turned the lights out preparatory to leaving the house with Beowulf for his vet appointment.
Me: The Why Don’t I
Zille: I WANNA GO TOOOO
Me: Get to Go
Zille: I WANNA GOOOO
Me: Hysterics
Zille: I WANNA GO WIIIIIITH
Me: By Zille
(The camera turns to glance at dog crates, then proceeds toward the side door)
Zille: NO ONE LOVES ME I WANT TO GO WIIIIITH YOOOOOUUU. I AM UNLOVED AND ABUSED. THIS CAUSES ME GREAT PAIN, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO, AND IF ANY DOG DESERVES TO HAVE ADVENTURES IT IS ME, FOR I AM A GOOD DOG.
(Camera turns back to see Tink standing behind me)
Roo, heard in the distant background: LET ME OUT OF MY ROOM I NEED MORE FOOD.
Tink: Don’t leave me alone with these noisy bastards.
Me: She’s very noisy, huh, Tink?
Tink: If she doesn’t shut up, I’ll smother her.
Zille: GET ME OUT OF THIS CRATE AND TAKE ME TOO OH MY GOD MY LIFE IS A HORROR.

I should note for the record that Zille shows no signs of actual separation anxiety. She only throws these loud and dramatic fits if another dog is going somewhere and she is not. Oh and also she occasionally does it when I get home from work, but only before I have opened the door to the house. She does not, however, panic and try to escape her crate, show signs of anxiety when crated, or otherwise show distress. She just REALLY wants to be the dog who goes along, if any dog is going to go anywhere at all.

1 May, 2010

Too much early morning love.

The scene: Manor of Mixed Blessings, 0500. A dark bedroom. I am asleep in the bed in the dark bedroom.

Roo: STARVING TO DEATH.
Me: Snrgbl?
Zille: ME TOO. I’M HUNGRY TOO.
Me: Grarfglm?
Roo and Zille: WE ARE HUNGRY TOGETHER. WE ARE THE WORLD. WE ARE THE CHILDREN.
Me: You’re not. You’re too hairy to be children and… hey, wait, the gate is shut.
Zille: What gate?
Me: That gate. The one you were on the other side of when I went to bed.
Zille: I see no gate.
Roo: STARVING TO DEATH WHILE YOU PEOPLE TALK ABOUT GATES.
Me: Roo, did you let this dog in here?
Zille: I was always in here. Can I lick your toes?
Me: You weren’t, you were locked out when I went to bed, and no.
Zille: I have no clue what you’re talking about. Also, I’m going to lick your toes anyway.
Roo: I AM GOING TO TAPDANCE ON YOUR HEAD UNTIL YOU FEED ME.
Me: WHY ARE MY GATES DOG-PERMEABLE AND ROO GET OFF MY HEAD.
Zille: I’ll tell you if you feed me.
Me: It is 0515. I am not getting up, it is the weekend, I have another hour to sleep. Roo, shut up. Zille, go have a chewie.
Roo: I WILL NOT SHUT UP I WANT MY LAWYER I AM STARVING.
Zille: I can’t get out, the gate is shut.

42″ gate, with a 7″ x 10″ cat door in it. I never heard it rattle but presumably she went over it. I think Tink taught her to do it.

28 March, 2010

In the still of the night…

The scene: Manor of Mixed Blessings, approximately 0315. Your humble narrator is asleep on the futon in the living room (in case Tink needed an emergency potty trip).

Zille: Pssssst.
Me: Mrfgl?
Zille: Psssssssst.
Me: Wha?
Roo: Huh? Are we awake?
Me: We’re not awake. What do you want, Zille?
Zille: I has a ball.
Roo: I has a hungry.
Tink: I was asleep.
Beowulf: Are there squirrels?
Me: Zille, honey, what time is it?
Zille: Fetchy time. Obviously. I has a ball.
Me: *reaches for cell phone, looks at time*
Me: Oh hell no. It’s freakin just past 3am.
Zille: That’s fetchy time. Look, a ball, I has one.
Me: Fetchy time doesn’t occur until 0800 at least.
Zille: My ball, let me show you it.
Roo: Why did a ball just land on my head? I’m hungry. And cold.
Me: I’m keeping this ball.
Zille: Throw the ball.
Me: No.
Zille: But I love you. I love you a lot.
Me: OMG DOG SPIT ON MY EYEBALL.
Zille: Fetchy time?
Me: NO.
Roo: Breakfast time?
Me: NO.
Tink: I gotta go outside.
Me: Oh, dammit. We were doing so well.
They win, I got out of bed. Although I spited them (spote them?) by going back to bed once they came in from the group potty trip.

19 March, 2010

Spring is in the air

The scene: Manor of Mixed Blessings, 1830. Your humble narrator is in the living room at the computer. Dogs and cats are arranged variously according to their whims.

Zille: I has a ball.
Me: You sure do. What a nice ball.
Zille: Make the ball go.
Me: No. You ate a mere 30 minutes ago and I do not wish you to bloat and die.
Zille: At least if I die playing fetch, I’ll die happy. Make the ball go.
Me: No. We don’t play fetch in the house with that ball[1] anyway.
Tink: I have to pee.
Me: You tell lies. You want to bark at something.
Tink: I never lie.
Me: You lie all the time about having to pee so I’ll let you bark at things.
Zille: Make the ball go.
Tink: I gotta PEE.
Beowulf: Are we goi– SQUIRREL!!! SQUIRREL!!!!
Tink: SQUIRREL!?
Zille: MAKE THE BALL GO DAMMIT.
Me: WE ARE NOT GOING OUTSIDE YOU WILL ALL DIE OF BLOAT. WHICH WOULD SERVE YOU RIGHT BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL OBNOXIOUS.[2]
Time: *passes, as it does*

Zille: Is it fetchy time NOW?
Tink: I gotta PEEEEE.
Beowulf: Is something interesting going to happen?
Me: What time is it?
Zille: FETCHY TIME.
Tink: PEEING TIME.
Beowulf: LOVE EMERGENCY.
Me: No time for love, Dr. Jones. It’s been an hour and we are going OUTSIDE.
Chorus of Canines: OUTSIIIIIDE YAY!
Jubilation. Exeunt omnes.

[1] WE DO HAVE A HOUSE FETCHY BALL, WHICH IS JUST A SPHERICAL STUFFY. ZILLE NINJA’D IT INTO HER MOUTH ONE DAY AT PETSMART SO I FELT OBLIGATED TO BUY IT FOR HER.

[2] I DON’T REALLY THINK THEY DESERVE TO DIE OF BLOAT.

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