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Meet OTTER

04 Oct

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THREE WEEKS?

Family Drama.  Work Drama.  TNT Knows Drama.  I have been drinking way too much Malbec, watching a lot of old westerns, and avoiding politics. (Although I did have a peyote-like flashback mix of the two there for a few days.  Thank you, Clint.)  I have been bookmarking topics all over the place and am now knee deep in blogs.  In short, I will make it up to my 15 total fans out there (I love you all more than my favorite shoes), starting today.

As you TBD devotees know, Hubby & I have a dog named Otter.  He is a puppy and we love him. He is 10 months old and weighs 70 pounds, and I’m pretty sure he has stopped growing, but I don’t care. He could weigh 140 pounds and I would love him twice as much, because that’s how true dog lovers operate.* He is a mess.  (He’s a puppy.)  He’s a sloppy eater.  (He’s a puppy.) He chews shit. (He’s a puppy.) He has farts that can clear your sinuses better than a wasabi milkshake.  (He’s a puppy.)  He’s good at chasing and fetching, but not so good on the release. (He’s a puppy.) He destroys inanimate objects that were harmless enough for weeks on end until the one day he determines they must no longer be allowed to exist.

This patio cushion was obviously Evil and had to be Destroyed.

He’s smart in some ways (completely house broken by five months old, although not perfect; he has the occasional accident when excited or having a growth spurt.  (He’s a puppy.)  He sleeps on your feet and trips over his own going up stairs. (He’s a puppy.) He offers unconditional love and an unhealthy interest in belly-buttons. (He’s a puppy.) He’s not the smartest (he’s part Lab) and he can be stubborn (also part Pitbull) but he is 100% affectionate.

I could go on, but you get the point, yes?  HE’S A PUPPY.  Puppies are a lot of work.  They are a ton of mess and truckload of fun and affection. They are worth the growing pains because they grow into cool dogs and the best companion money can buy.**


Pic of Otter the day we adopted him.

Otter is a rescue, but EVERYONE in my house is a rescue, especially me.

We don’t have kids, but I am sure that those who do and are reading this can sympathize when I say that I don’t appreciate being told how to raise my puppy. I don’t say a word when you complain about how rough mornings are at your house even though I personally witnessed you give your hyperactive 6 year old two donuts and a Cheerwine at ten pm the previous night, do I?  Do I tell you that you ought to medicate that 9 year old thing running around the house acting like her hair is on fire and screaming bloody murder if you are more than 6 feet away from her?  No.  Because regardless of my opinions (“Holy Shit Caffeine and Sugar aren’t rocket science” and “Clingy now is Emotionally Damaged career on a pole later”, respectively) I keep them to myself because they are NOT MY KIDS.  Now if you are exasperated about teething, and my neighbor told me about a trick with bourbon and popsicles, I might share it.  Maybe.  More likely, I’ll offer you an empathetic ear and another healthy (full) glass of Merlot.  Or maybe tell you a Hurricane tale that will make us all feel better. Because these things are not out-of-bounds.

Unfortunately, Facebook destroys the social boundaries that most people had a tenuous grasp on to begin with when it comes to minding your own business (and over-sharing).  And many people in the South are lacking this gene altogether (Bless their Hearts) so having a platform like Facebook makes it 24-7 open season online for Full Cups of Crazy.  Which I Totally Endorse.

When I post a photo of the laundry room chalkboard that lists all the shit my puppy has destroyed in a given week, I expect you to (like me) embrace the crazy, laugh through it, maybe even empathize. It’s supposed to be funny, not a Cry For Help, for Fuckssake.  Stop sending me emails with carefully crafted tones as if you are talking me down from a ledge. ***


Chalkboard list example.  And that’s right.  The fucking dog smashed some Curly Q lightbulbs. 
How he is not dead (or brain dead?) from Mercury Poisoning is beyond mortal comprehension.

My Point. Otter is hysterical and worth more to me at the end of any day than any material object.  If you have a MILD joke or comment or suggestion or especially a funny story to share, that’s cool.  But that’s it. I don’t care if you’ve had 20 puppies or just watch a lot of Animal Planet, the rule of thumb is that unless I ask for your parenting advice, Shut The Hell Up.

Don’t put Puppies for Dummies or the Caesar’s Tips for Unruly Dogs book or Doggie Day Care flyers in my mailbox.  Don’t make condescending remarks about me to my vet, or email my husband asking if we need assistance.  And don’t you dare deliver a crate to my front stoop.

Hubby gets more bent than I do about this, but I whole-heartedly agree with him about some people being way too serious.  At one point, he tried to forbid me (go ahead, start laughing now – he tried to FORBID ME) from posting Otter updates on FB.  I did not yield.  People can piss me off too, but Surely if people we freely choose to socialize with can post on FB every time their kid wipes his/her ass, surely I can indulge in a little DogShaming.****


Otter’s Dog-Shaming Debut
And yes, it’s sideways because I have limited skills, bitches.

I do NOT believe in crates (they are cages, not crates) and I absolutely DO believe in corporal punishment.  Puppies don’t give a rat’s ass about Time Out, but you pop one with the half eaten flip-flop he ate, or smack a toilet lid on his head when you catch him drinking in the guest bath crapper, and these have lasting effects.  Don’t roll your eyes or feign shock as if I’m abusing my dog. Otter is most beloved and so spoiled I will let him type some with his nose, since he’s snuggling right now and dying to see what I’m laughing at up here:
fx gvcxz
ohijrga )UhjgyGFJSD MVXCNZ

PIJNMDADZHVRSF;DLKG BV                       ‘;oieranHf

[KPM”FE Lwvd

Happy now?  Good.  Shut the Fuck Up.

Otter may confuse the buzzer on Family Feud with the doorbell or spin himself retarded in the living room floor chasing a chewie, but I’m betting your Honor Roll kids have their moments too.   And when I witness them, I will smile, thinking “Hope to Christ that soccer scholarship comes through” and then offer you another glass of wine.

*If you love only your dog, or love only the type of dog you had growing up, or your neighbor’s breed ONLY, then you are not a dog lover.  You are an Asshole.

**Hookers are not companions.  Even making snarky jokes about them here demeans most every dog I know and I won’t do it.

***If you believe that your dog is perfect and you find fault with and/or roll your eyes at the behavior of other dogs and judge their owners, then you are not a dog lover; you are a Huge Asshole.

****BRILLIANT tumblrs by the way – from people like me who LOVE dogs and totally get Life With Them.
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/dog-shaming
and http://dog-shaming.com/

 
2 Comments

Posted by on October 4, 2012 in BLOG DEPOSITS, MEET OTTER

 

2 responses to “Meet OTTER

  1. SHANNON

    October 5, 2012 at 1:36 pm

    YOU ARE SO ENTERTAINING! I LOVE YOUR WIT! BEST WAY I KNOW TO START MY FRIDAY BY READING A TBD POST. KEEP EM COMING! ROCK ON OTTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

     
  2. Amy

    October 8, 2012 at 10:48 pm

    Love this one!! I laughed all of the way thru. I agree, people should keep their child/dog raising advice to themselves UNLESS asked. We have 2 dogs and I love them dearly. When I see your chalkboard lists, I laugh because mine didn’t do it!! Btw, Otter is too cute. And I think the whole point of having a dog is to spoil it rotten!!

     

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