Animal Conspiracy

The animals are conspiring against me.

First the two big dogs, Charlie and Noodle decided to have a poop-off a few days before the guys left.

Since the weather is beautiful, we've had the doors and windows open most days (and some nights). Of course we left the sliding door open, so the good [koff] dogs could have easy access in and out.

That was the week we spent reorganizing the basement, so there wasn't a heck of a lot of canine supervision going on upstairs.

I guess the open doors and windows and the fact that my sinuses are concrete half the time thanks to allergies didn't tip me off that there were turds in the house.

On a good day I can detect a fart three aisles away in the grocery store.

I don't know what the guys' excuse was. Maybe they thought they were smelling their own stink or something. Who knows?

Doods.

Anyway, Hubby went to the far end of the dining room one night (none of us had been there in days) to get something and stepped on a squishy lump. He jumped back in horror (in his bare feet, no less) and landed on another. He screeched and turned on the light.

There were 8---count 'em---8 piles of medium to large-sized dookie in varying stages of dryness. On his mother's prized Karastan rug, that he had shipped from back east last fall.

My hubby is the mildest of men. But the rant that came out of his mouth that night would have singed Alec Baldwin's ear hairs.

If the dogs hadn't already dumped their loads, they'd have been laying cable all the way down the hall on the way to their crates.

So a new summer plan has been put in place. The bigger dogs are now exclusively outdoor dogs during the day.

During the day, their food and water is outside. They can frolic in the yard and do dog things, like chasing butterflies and eating bark nuggets (at least I think they're bark nuggets). And bark hysterically at good dogs who are walking past our house on leashes.

At night, into the crates they go, just as if they were puppies again. They aren't going to have any unsupervised inside time whatsoever.

Needless to say, they haven't been pleased with the new rules. But that's ok. Management has had enough.

One night, Hubby forgot and left the dogs' food outside. The next morning, when I woke up early, I got to witness the Magpie buffet. I chased the suckers away, but one has been awfully persistent.

Every morning when we lounge on the deck with our coffee, this brazen little Magpie sits on the rail and scolds us. It flies down to where the dog bowls usually are, and hops around trying to find the buffet. Hah!

So last night, at about 2:30am, I woke up choking. Our bedroom deck door was open, and a skunk had let fly in close vicinity. I woke Hubby out of a dead sleep (he was probably dreaming of his frat-house bong days) and made him close the door.

The stank was so bad that I went and slept the rest of the night in Little Guy's room, which has been closed up for the last ten days.

Note to self: Must wash the kid's sheets and open the windows. His room smells like fermented feet and sweaty bed-head.

I woke up at about 5:30am and started the coffee. Then I went on the deck to greet the day.

Wham! Ow! That's my head!!!

Did that squawky little Magpie decide to dive-bomb me?

Nope, it was that freaking woodpecker, back from wherever woodpeckers go in the winter, here just to torment me!

I ran in the house and closed the sliding door. Then I heard a thump against the glass.

Woke Hubby for a second time out of a dead sleep.

Put your glasses on! Look at that!

The little winged monster was perched on a stump just off the deck staring at the door waiting for me to come back out.

I've got my camera ready now, but I'm kind of afraid to go outside. If I can get a pic of it, I'll post it.

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Update at 3pm: Since I'm currently a lady of leisure, I took a short nap this afternoon.

When I woke up, Hubby said, "Have you looked out the picture window?"

Nooooooo.

"I think your bird is out there. It's dead."

Eek!

Sure enough it was there. It flew into the picture window and kilt itself. I wonder if it had some kind of bird rabies and maybe I should get that peck on my head checked out.

RIP you crazy little thing.