I Stole Your Dog

I stole your dog today. No, I didn't set a foot on your property, but from the condition of your dog, I can imagine what it looks like...the word "junkyard" comes to mind.

I found her along a road, with a heavy chain wrapped around her neck, still attached to rotten boards from her doghouse, with rusty six-penny nails protruding. Not only did I know that most of the town had already ignored her, judging by where I found her, but I knew that if she had gotten into the woods the "cross" that she dragged behind her would have wrapped around a tree until starvation or thirst killed her.

The local populace is usually deaf to the sound or blind to the sight of an animal in need, unless they decide to shoot one for trespassing.

That her ribs showed, that her ears were filthy, that her overall condition was poor and that her coat and eyes were dull, were good indications that you didn't deserve her. But just to make sure, I checked with the local authorities for a report of a missing (unlicensed) dog matching her description and to see if you'd placed a
"lost dog" advertisement in the local newspaper. You hadn't, which I can only surmise means that you do not miss her. That's rather convenient, because the fact that she is not spayed, probably unvaccinated, and possibly heartworm positive means that restoring her health could cost me around a thousand dollars.

Perhaps it may be some small comfort to know that she doesn't miss you. In fact, her very act of escape made it clear that she'd had enough of your brand of pet guardianship. It took her about a day to realize that I'm not you, that I won't hurt her, that despite our brief acquaintanceship, I love her. It took two days for her to realize that the other animals who live here accept her and that one of the joys she has been missing has been the companionship of other dogs. It took three days for her to appreciate the ecstasy of a homecooked meal and that a couch is meant to be reclined on, and that she no longer has to sleep outside - in fact, when the thunder starts, she'll get a hug and her ears rubbed, and I'll make a fool of myself with baby talk.

She has a beautiful name now. Already in the first week she has come to look more like she should. Her eyes sparkle and she has learned to wag her tail in greeting. She has stopped flinching when I make a sudden movement, because she knows now that I won't beat her, in fact, she rarely leaves my side. She's even become brave enough to bark at a cat and today I watched from the window as she initiated play with the other dogs. No, it's clear she does not miss you or her former life of neglect on a chain.

Of all the things that have become apparent from my brief relationship with her - such as the forgiving nature of the dog, their wonderful ability to heal and to trust, the fact that love can work miracles - one of the most apparent is what a fool you are. She was possibly the most trusting, loyal and loving being in your life, and you consigned her to a life of filth and loneliness until she made the best choice she's ever made when she broke free.

Perhaps her guardian angel helped her escape.

Lest anyone should mistake me for an angel, I will admit that one day I hope to be as good as she; I believe she forgave you within the first twenty-four hours of her new life for the about four years of her previous "life," while I still wrestle with the part of me that hopes that one day you will burn in Hell.

It's not clear yet whether she'll remain here or whether I'll find her a loving home where she can count on more individual attention than I can give her, but one thing is certain, this is one bit of stolen "property" who is never returning to you. So sue me, prosecute me, plead with the courts that she is rightfully yours...I'm convinced this is the best "crime" I've ever committed. Hardly anything has pleased me more than the day I stole your dog. I need only look into her beautiful brown eyes to know that she'd defend my decision with her life. If we have one prayer, it is that you will not replace her, and if we have one special day to commemorate together, it is the day I stole your dog and the day she stole my heart.

The above was copied from a website, Andrew's Heaven, where it appeared uncredited. Upon further research, it has come to my attention that this piece was written by Jim Willis and is copyrighted 2002. He has written several books and stories about animals. His website can be viewed here.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Nothing pisses me off more than being caught speechless.

The manager of a department I work with (not FOR) just came raging into my office about 20 minutes ago, bitching me up one side and down the other.

I had copied/pasted a file note into an email, informing one of our customers of a situation because the customer emailed me asking.

The file note I pasted didn't seem to me to be anything more than informative, but apparently it revealed to our customer some fuckup of said manager's people. This is not the first time this manager and her people have been caught with their pants down.

So who gets yelled at? Me. Because I sent our customer the information.

And what does my dumb ass do? I sit there at my desk while she hollers at me. I am left utterly without words.

I have a precarious position in this company. I am not a manager, but I do not have a manager either. I report directly to the owner, and he's away skiing. Because the work I do involves frequent contact with this manager and her department, she has (more than once) acted like I am her employee, to berate and bitch at upon at her slightest whim.

I fucking hate how I can't ever come up with good defensive maneuvers when I'm in a situation like this. I am left angry at the other person, feeling abused, pissed at myself, and feeling weak.

*sigh*

Update/Recipe Tuesday, vol. 3

This is sort of a non-recipe. No specific quantities are known- I just throw it together and taste. Everything can be adjusted. I like mine with a lot of garlic and a lot of liquid to soak the toast, which is barely GBD (golden brown and delicious) and still chewy inside. Good food is always adjustable to personal tastes.

And to properly make bruschetta, you need to know how to pronounce bruschetta.

Say it with me: broo-SKETT-uh, NOT broo-SHETT-uh.

Easy Bruschetta

Serves 2-4

6 Roma tomatoes, or whatever kind is fresh, ripe but firm, and red (My Pawpaw grows the bestest 'maters this side of the Mississippi.)
Extra virgin olive oil (use the good stuff- you'll taste the difference)
Balsamic vinegar (again, good stuff)
Lots of fresh garlic- either crushed in a press or minced fine with a knife (minced is hotter due to bigger pieces to bite)
Kosher salt and fresh ground pepper
Pinch dried oregano
Loaf of fresh French or Italian bread

In a plastic container with a lid, make a dressing of olive oil, a splash of balsamic, crushed or minced garlic, and oregano. Chop tomatoes, add them to the olive oil mixture, and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Allow the tomatoes to marinate in the fridge or at room temperature for up to an hour. The tomatoes will be too soggy the next day- this is a same-day dish.

Cut the bread into 1/2" slices, lay flat on a baking sheet, drizzle or brush with olive oil, and sprinkle with kosher salt. Bake the bread slices at 400° until barely golden brown and crispy on the edges.

Serve the bruschetta with the warm toast slices, and possibly a pack of gum for everyone's garlic breath afterward. Tasty!


So, I started the Jazzercise classes last Tuesday. Sheesh, am I out of shape! I returned Thursday and signed up. It's actually a lot of fun, and the hour zips by like nobody's bidness.

DH rags on me for being interested in "classes" for everything, but I can't help myself. I'm going to attend some cake decorating sessions at a local Michaels craft store. He won't be bitching when I produce a wonderful and gorgeous cake for his 30th birthday in May!

I finished two more audio books last week- House of Thunder and Strange Highways by Dean Koontz. House of Thunder was incredibly intriguing. The only problem was that it was read by an Englishman who didn't do very convincing female voices. Strange Highways was excellent, and short- only about 5 and a half hours of audio. I have started listening to another Koontz tome, this one read by a woman, but at the moment the name escapes me.

I've also recently purchased two regular books, Bad Childhood, Good Life and Woman Power by Dr. Laura Schlessinger. Woman Power is a companion and follow-up to a fabulous book she wrote, The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands. I have not yet read either of the new books, but I'm looking forward to them.

Checked out some new music lately, too: Madonna's newest, Confessions on a Dancefloor; some good ole breakbeats by Plump DJs; and some old music that's new to me, an assortment of Ray Charles.

~Skwerl!

What the hell do I know?

These showed up right before I left to pick up lunch for DH and myself. See previous post for a good giggle. Well, folks, he was already guaranteed to get lucky tonight...now, even more so.

Día de San Valentino

Felíz día de San Valentino a todos. Happy Valentine's Day.

I wish I could say I've been surprised with some lovely flowers or something by my DH, but I have not. I don't think I will be, either.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to understand that even though V-Day is a manufactured holiday for the sake of retailers, jewelers, and florists, it's still an established custom and you are supposed to get flowers for your woman. In six and a half years, I've gotten flowers on V-day once...right after we got engaged. *le sigh*

And women, you should be doing something nice for your men as well!

Well, tonight is my first Jazzercise class. I've been in desperate need of some pound sheddage and fitness, and had tossed around the idea of a Jazzercise class. I finally found one near both home and work. The rest of them are way across town. So this evening, at 6:00, I'll be checking it out for the first time. I think it'll be enjoyable.

I will definitely need to go purchase some workout type clothing soon. Ever tried bouncing around and sweating in an underwire bra made of synthetic materials? That'll give the girls some lovely chafing red marks in a quick hurry.

Happy "Gotcha" Day, Lucy!

Today is the one year anniversary of us finding Lucy in the parking lot of our old building at work. This little black streak was about 3 months old, skinny, dehydrated, wormy, and scared to death.

Now she's healthy as a horse, and the sweetest, dumbest but smartest, most fun-loving dog you'll ever meet.

Baby Goose, Frog Dog, Rotten Stinkmonkey, I love you to pieces. Thanks for letting me pick you up in that parking lot and making me fall in love with you!

One year ago:


Today:

Update (who can come up with witty titles every time?)

Ok, ok, so it's been two weeks since my last post. Didja miss me?

Not like anyone READS this blog, anyway. I have several that I read faithfully, and only one provides semi-daily posts...Velociman. The rest of y'all suck balls.

Made some cookies last night, freakin' YUM. Alton Brown's recipe for chewy chocolate chip, with the addition of half a bag of Reese's peanut butter chips. Quite tasty and dewishus. Dinner consisted of chicken and rice with creamy cilantro sauce.

I've added a whole new routine to my life lately. Upon hearing that household maintenance can be a source of stress for me, my counselor recommended I visit a website called FlyLady.net. FlyLady's website is intended to help homemakers, be they stay at home moms or paid worker bees, to get and keep their homes in order - clean, de-cluttered, and inviting - with minimal stress.

I've been paying this man $25 an hour for two months (thank goodness for insurance), and the most helpful thing he's done so far is recommend a website that doesn't cost me a dime. You sign up for their email list and visit the site daily for tips. It's great, and I've wished I knew more women who care about having a clean house, so I could recommend it.

Most of the women I work with think that homemaking is for the boids. They don't cook for their families, and would rather work overtime (well, they CALL it working...) than spend time at home. I wonder sometimes how these people live. I can't imagine eating fast food all the time, or even the nasty packaged convenience foods I pass at the grocery store (like those disgusting looking casserole things...*shudder*). Spurious ingredients, those- chock full o' preservatives, saturated fat, and imitation cheese product, while simultaneously lacking vitamins, minerals, and fiber. MMmmmmkay, no thanks. Think I'll pass on arteriosclerosis and the bee-gees (bubble guts).

Fark all that noise! I'd rather be at home, in a sparkling clean and comfortable house with my husband and dogs, eating delicious and healthy (or at least healthier) food that I made.