when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Somebody Please Tell Me Why

Coming home last week, slow day, cramps and all over exhaustion.
Thinking about a glass or two of wine, a hot bath and going to sleep.

Tate rolling full steam ahead as usual, cutting grass, caring for equipment, preparing dinner. Tate grills on the deck nearly 350 days per year. I am not complaining, trust me, but I enter the house this tiresome evening and realize how rude of me it would be to not pitch in and do a few chores inside the house.

I take the Plow and Hearth compost bucket out to the compost pile, then dead -head a few flowers on the pathway back to the house.

When I get to the front door, ready for the bath, I look down at Kramer the Stink Terrier. Again, he has found something putrid to roll in.


My job.

I whisk him to the outdoor tub and shampoo him twice. I leave him outside to dry and shake.

"I had to bathe him twice to get the stink out of him this time" I say.

"You're leaving him outside to dry? What if he rolls in whatever it is again ?" Tate asks me.

"Then I will leave him outside all damn night!"

Tate puts on his puzzled face, "How will he know why he is being punished and locked out all night?" (Kramer hates to stay outside without one of us outside with him)

"I will just lean out the door and TELL HIM WHY, THAT'S HOW" I reply with the utmost sincerity.

"Oh, I see. Things have been so much better around here since we took Kramer to those English classes haven't they?"



thirdworstpoetinthegalaxy said...

Ha! Love Tate's comeback.

Anonymous said...

Very, very funny. I have totally been there with our Sadie, and my logic has been pretty similar. Hubby says, all she is hearing is bla, bla, bla, like that farside cartoon. I beg to differ...Hope you got your bath, wine and your night of relaxation. Thanks for your comment on my blog. My cast of characters does get a bit crazy, actually, it is my mind that jumps around that gets crazy!! Enjoy your Sunday.

tom said...

Stuffed Animals are the best pets, I prefer the Gund Brand...they are always thinking exactly what you are thinking, when you tell them to stay...they do and they never roll around in stinky stuff..if they do end up getting dirty...pop them right in the wash machine...no kennels, no poops, no walks in bad weather..

Michelle O'Neil said...

Your first mistake was helping!

Girl...you strut right in to that house and take a bath.

YOU first, then you'll be available for the rest.

Here it's

"Hi Doll. I'll be right with you in 30-60 minutes. I've got to regroup."

HT nods along in agreement, knowing we'll all have a better evening if I get that time.

You work hard dear, it won't kill the dog to stink for an extra 1/2 hour to an hour.

Jerri said...

Why? OOOOOh--wouldn't we all like to know the whys.

I'm sorry you had to go through this but really glad you wrote about it. I needed a good laugh. This was it.

Rayne said...

stacy - love your blog - articulate and a fun read. thanks for stopping by my blog - so glad to meet a fellow 'npr' listener - i think i love YOU - lol...(and please accept my apologies for not stopping by sooner - my computer mouse died after i wrote my last post, and i was left to wander, lost and aimlessly, without internet access for a coupla days..oh, the HORROR)...

Laura said...

Haha! My older beast, Fergus, speaks English, but unfortunately has gone deaf in his old age. He still understands the nice pats and angry scowls when he vomits on the carpet, though.

I need to learn how to not help out, too! I'm pretty good at it when Hubby grills out (not as often as Tate, unfortunately!). Yesterday I worked on knitting in front of the TV with sleeping toddler in lap while Hubby cooked dinner. Now if we could do that every night, I might become sane.