Because SOMEONE Says I Don't Use Enough Photos!

My dog is a nutcase. Yeah I know that you’ve probably guessed this already seeing how pets are supposed to be like their owners. But I don’t think you have any idea just how nutty he really is. I mean, my nuttiness is limited to, you know, doing my best Julia Roberts laughter imitation in public and hugging a clear plastic thang filled with air at work. Okay, it’s nutty. But it isn’t a seven on the Richter scale.

This dog on the other hand, is mad. And not just mad, but mad and sneaky.

See, he’s actually toilet-trained on newspaper, but sometimes, he’ll mark his territory in a really random way just for fun. That is to say, despite using the paper, he sometimes also leaves little presents in other rooms of the house.

A month ago, he use to poop all over the living room and kitchen floor when nobody was around, to attempt to get our attention (I anthropomorphise, but if you really knew Chip, you’d know it was justified). This obviously wasn’t a good thing because if no one was around to clean it, the odor molecules would diffuse, and you know what that means.

So I thought about it and came up with a brilliant (if I may say so myself!) plan to prevent this. I stopped giving him breakfast and then fed him a double portion at dinner which then meant that he could poop all he wanted at night and I’d be there to clean it up both at night and early next morning. Well, it’s worked so far. I wake up in the morning and clean up his poo which is unpleasant, but better than leaving it there all day.

He recently figured out what I was doing, and has changed his tactics in a way that I don’t understand. Instead of pooping on the floor now, he does use the paper and it’s all neat and clean in a little pile. Well, blow me down!

But. And this is big but.

Of COURSE, he has to compensate with other mischief. So, when I wake up in the morning, I am now greeted by the sight of all the dustbins lying on their sides with trails of rubbish leading to his pillow.

I don’t get it. I know he’s just toying with me because that’s my dog, but I refuse to be beaten at my own game. I would clear the dustbins of all their rubbish at night to forestall this, but I worry about what other fiendish little plan he might use as a succedaneum (please admire the big word that was unceremoniously ganked from my BIG dictionary). In fact, I swear sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking he nods to himself in a surreptitious, self-satisfied way and then laughs at me from behind his little paws.

The only thing that’s stopping me from flaying him within an inch of his life is the fact that I love him so much. That, and he gives me this guilty, big-eared look:




In other news, these are me friends at work, whose antics, warm company and laughter make each day an effortlessly happy event.

Yeah, I know, we have something about heads… at least they’re relatively nice looking heads, okay?

Geraldine and I are partners-in-crime for an Anger Management workshop that we’re supposed to organise for probationers, and just generally go running around the office creating a great deal of disturbance (think: exit door, left open, beeping LOUDLY). Reggie (as we like to bully Regina by calling her) has nifty fashion sense and really cool, cute shirts from Urban Outfitters but this is rather dampened by the fact that she’s actually a thief and will steal jelly from your dessert if your back is turned. Come to think of it, she’ll steal jelly even if your back isn’t turned. And will tell you that she’s stealing it.

Rebecca, Becca, Becky or Reb is, as you can tell, trying to pin me for the crime that I am about to commit. Apart from that and the fact that she says mean things to me every chance she gets, she is actually quite nice. Okay, not that nice. Well… actually… not nice at all.

Aight folks, that’s about as many photos as I can bear to display for one day.

Heh heh. At least I’ll go to bed tonight knowing I made someone happy.