SuperDog Toy Trick

**While I’m on vacation (visiting family and BlogHer-ing) for a few weeks, please enjoy some Superwife classics… posts for which I get the most irl (in-real-life) comments and/or compliments. Have a super few weeks and I’ll be back sooooon!**

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So I got this great idea a while back that I should teach my puppy how to put away her toys, since she leaves them ALL OVER the living room floor every day. Check out the video below to see how that went. :)

Note: Now, 2 years later, Tali still puts away her toys (and expects a treat every time, for every single toy). Now that we have a baby, I’ve noticed her starting to put the baby toys away (albeit in her own dog-toy basket), trying to get extra treats! Stinker!

Return of the Carpet Destroyer

Seriously. The last time it was mildy funny… after a few days. This time, I’m just, it’s just, I’m… ARGH!

We got new carpet put in downstairs in October, so OF COURSE the dog needed to christen it.

With explosive liquid shit.

In the middle of the night.

Again.

(See the reference here)

We should’ve seen it coming, since we’d been cleaning up dog barf all day yesterday… but really, who can predict that their dog will run around in circles on the brand new carpet while spraying oily goo out of its ass?

Anyway… at least this time I had a “recipe” on hand for a cleanup solution. And it didn’t include Cranberry Febreze or Downy Wrinkle Releaser (mainly because Adam didn’t make it). So, armed with a bucket -o- oxyclean, bleach, woolite and scalding water, the zombie versions of Adam and I crawled around the living room for over an hour this “morning” scrubbing up dog shit. We concluded, after inspecting the puddles, that Tali ate too much wood while playing outside. That’s all we can come up with – there was no bacon grease involved this time.

And, just for you… a tidbit of the conversation during The Great Carpet Cleanup of 2011:

Adam: *hack cough cough hack*

Me: Ew.

Adam: (opens trash sack with soiled paper towels that we’ve been carrying along the trail of cleanup and hawks a lugi  into it)

Me: Oh SICK! *gag* Did you have to do that? GROSS! *gag gag, slight dryheave*

Adam: I’m sorry, am I the disgusting part of this whole situation??

Me: What? People spitting grosses me out.

Adam: Let me remind you what we are currently doing.

Me: Well you don’t have to make it worse by spitting.

Adam: NOTHING could make this worse. NOTHING.

And then we laaaaaaaaaaaughed.

 Right.

Dog Farming

So, my 14-year-old brother, Billy, is up visiting Adam and I from Idaho for the summer, and I’ve had some… interesting conversations with him since he’s arrived. Observe:

Billy: Is Tali spaded?

Me: Hmmm… you mean spayed?

Billy: Yeah, that.

Me: No, we’re thinking about breeding her next year.

Billy: Wow, you WANT like 7 dogs?

Me: Well not to keep, silly!

Billy: WHAT? What do you mean?

Me: Well, we might keep one of her puppies, but we would sell the rest.

Billy: WHAAAAAT? You would SELL your dog’s BABIES?

Me: Um, yes.

Billy: (seemingly having a major realization) Whoa. Is that what your dad does?

*note: my dad has had quite a few boston terriers over the years, and has bred some of them a couple of  times

Me: Of course! Do you think my dad lives on a dog farm with 56 dogs??

Billy: Well… yeah. I thought that’s what the barns were… for the dog farm.

*note: my dad builds storage sheds for a living, and his business name is ‘Alaskan Barns’.

Me: I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

Billy: I can’t believe you would sell your dog’s babies. How would you like it if someone sold YOUR baby?

Adam, jumping in: How would you like it if your 7 children lived with you all their lives?

Haha, great point, Adam… I’m sure I would be ready to sell my kids if they wanted to live with me forever! :)

Pop Quiz: WWTFD (What Would The Fasts Do)?

THE SITUATION:

Your dog wakes you up at 3:45 in the morning by ripping a GIANT fart and whining in the corner of your newly-white-carpeted-bedroom. Upon inspection, you find that there is a liquid shit trail that completely circles your bed (and is amazingly also on some parts of the wall). 

THE SOLUTION:

Do you:

 A) Calmly get out of bed, let your dog out, and clean up the mess without complaint.

B) Jump out of bed with purpose, carefully avoiding the mess, smirk a little because the situation is unbelievable, let the dog outside and quickly clean up the mess while trying not to breathe.

C) Nearly barf while still lying in bed because of the hot-shit smell already permeating the room. Laugh as your husband storms down the stairs to put the dog outside. Cry when you see the diarrhea-trail on your new white carpet. Almost step in it while trying to assess whether or not the dog managed to miss your pile of clothes that you threw in the corner last night. Sigh with relief when you realize your clothes are safe. Cry again when you realize your carpet is not. Almost step in it again. Go downstairs to see your husband sleepily staring into the cupboard under the sink; take note that the ONLY “cleaning supplies” he has taken out and placed on the counter are Febreze Air Effects (in cranberry, mmmm) and Downy Wrinkle Reducer. Push him aside and pull out OxyClean Pet Cleaner and hand him a roll of paper towels. Sigh (A LOT). Get online and type “how do I clean up dog diarrhea” into google. Sigh some more. Listen to your husband complain at you from upstairs that you’re not doing anything. Go into the garage and fill a bucket with hot water, oxyclean powder and bleach. Listen to your husband tell you that you can’t put bleach on the (white) carpet. Go upstairs to see your poor, sleepy hubby dutifully working at the impossible task of “picking up” the mess with paper towels. Feel bad for him and greatful for his help… until he complains about the spray bottle sucking and tells you matter-of-factly that the carpet will need to be replaced. Shrug, sigh, and put on your rubber gloves. Open the pet cleaner spray bottle and dump it all into the bucket. Start wringing washcloths over the brown trail and wait 5 minutes for your magic cleaning mixture to work. Listen to your husband say it won’t. Blame eachother (“Didn’t you change her food?” / “Didn’t you feed her a bowl of bacon grease?”). Start scrubbing the floor, one shit-drip at a time. Start seeing results. Listen to your husband say it’s working. Finish one hour later. Admire your (wet) white carpet. Put the dog bed in the hallway and block the door so it’s only open a sliver (she’s got to be able to see you!). Let the dog in after having your husband wipe her ass with a washcloth. Wonder if this happened because you changed her food or if it was really the bacon grease. Decide (silently) it was bacon grease.

Betcha can’t guess which solution we went with. Next time I’m trying the wrinkle-reducer, just to see. :)

Don’t you know the rules?

Setting: Adam walks in as I’m just finishing up staining the guest bedroom bed (which he built out of pine like 5 years ago). 

 

Me: I’m almost done.

Adam: Should you be breathing this?

Me: Well it needed to be done and I’m very impatient. But I’m almost done, what do you think?

Adam: It’s fine.

Me: Ummm, I just spent two hours staining this, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Adam: It looks okay.

Me: When I ask you what you think about an irreversible thing, you have to say you love it. It’s the rule.

Adam: It looks okay. The thing about pine is, when you stain it, it takes away the color.

Me: Isn’t that what staining DOES?

Adam: I liked the pine. Now it just looks like cedar or something. It looks fine though.

Me: *sigh* Go.

Adam: What? 

Me: GET OUT!

Pre- and post-stain. Tali looks worried/suspicious only because I’m doing something that doesn’t involve her. And the lighting in this room is crap, but I assure you the bed looks AWESOME. And I’m only a little bit high.

We bought diapers today…

For the DOG.

How fun, that we had to go buy DOG DIAPERS before we’re even able to think about BABY diapers. Blech.

But we actually did buy baby diapers… or toddler pullups, rather. Petco wasn’t open after 9pm for real doggie diapers and Tali started bleeding just a little after that time, so we had to run to Fred Meyer for the largest pullups we could find. Poor Tali. She absolutely hates them and thinks she’s in trouble.

I feel your pain, sweetie! I hate PMS too!!!