I really do need a life...



Blurry photo taken with Blackberry of the countless rubber chicken taunts. He's back again. Save me.


One Walmart special pink, bikini-clad rubber chicken with pink-painted toenails + one crazy 3-year old boxer named Kao...

= hours of uninterrupted fun, with chases, taunts and the occasional fling across the room.

I really do need a life. Or at least more rubberized farm animals.

A welcome distraction

I'm sitting here trying to think of something prophetic to write. I've had several attempts and nothing. But then I looked up and saw this and thought why not...

Isn't he intense? Kao often will come up and stare at you, willing you to put into words what he's thinking.

C is for Chicken...

Guess what, bloggers!?! It's a flippin' miracle today. The second coming. I am home. And, it's before 7:30 p.m., well before darkness hits and I'm sitting at the computer NOT doing ANY work. I'm blogging, which to me, is not work. It's fun. It's connection, it's inter-connectivity. And, it has nothing to do with any wasteful promotional products, unless you count the branded mug from which I am drinking my well-earned, nay, well-deserved Coke Zero. It's a treat and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

The Man made dinner tonight. Poultry. I have to say poultry because the dog goes nuts whenever we mention the C word. No, it's not the C U Next Thursday (it makes me giggle even if it's written out like that). C-H-I-C-K-E-N. Yes, chicken. It's not because he really knows what it is but he thinks whenever we mention the C-word it means that his prized rubber chicken will make an appearance, out of  whatever hiding place we choose. He whines, he cries and he howls. Man, does he howl. I'm not sure if he's howling to let us know he's got a catch or if he's saying "Hurry up and die, why don't you!" This rubber chicken has 50 billion lives. It's like the song that never ends. It's great for him but not so good for us since his play time consists of a screaming chicken and a howling dog, for hours on end or until we tell him to drop it and we go and hide it away again for another month.

So now I'm at a loss for what to do. I might take Kao to the P-A-R-K - the dog park, that is. Or, I might just sit back, drink my Coke Zero in peace and take a long bath. I think the bath is winning out.

That, my bloggy friends, is a post about nothing. It feels great.

Happy mini-Friday!

Mugwump

I don't have kids. This is my kid. Or at least this was my mugwump when he was about four months old. Now, he's an even bigger mugwump who still thinks he's a lapdog - a 60 lb. lapdog with incredibly bony elbows (do dogs even have elbows?).

Much love from The Mugwump a.k.a. Kao, Boyo, Boy Wonder, or the newest nickname... Bubba

Do you hear what I hear?

I'm officially in the Christmas spirit.

Yes, it took me all of these weeks to get into the jingle. I'm now singing Christmas carols (amidst the showtunes) all around the house - to the cat, the dog, the Man and even to the toaster (yeah, yeah, yeah, I know). I sing at the best of times but today I reached a new octave while singing "Winter Wonderland" and "Silver Bells," two of my favourite seasonal songs. "I'll be home for Christmas" also holds a special place in my heart, but there's a secret love of mine at Christmas that I can't wait to work into my schedule.

I don't know why but The Sound of Music always seems to play at Christmas time. It's not even a true "holiday" movie. There's nary a mention of Christmas throughout the movie, yet it's a movie that I continue to associate with the holiday season.

A friend who shall remain nameless (okay, it's Anasatan) has a love-hate relationship with musicals. She loves to hate them and I love to taunt her with them. I will often break into a song and dance in the most inopportune places - walking down the aisle at the supermarket, in the mall, in the kitchen, in a dance club - wherever there are lots of people and I know Anasatan will run screaming "No, Lindabelle, not again!" Imagine walking down a busy aisle at the local Loblaws and your so-called friend breaks into the West Side Story knife fight "dance" scene. Yep, that would be me, the knife wielding, finger-snappin' freak in the condiment aisle, singing about the benefits of ketchup.

So imagine my euphoria when I realized that many people (and I mean many) share my love musicals, of one musical in particular - The Sound of Music - so much so that they will dress in costume and sing along to the movie's many memorable numbers. While I had considered going many a time, I have yet to make it. I'm so enthralled with the whole production that, in my high school flute playing days, I secured a copy of the sheet music. "My Favourite Things," "Climb Every Mountain" - no song was off-limits. Maybe to Anasatan, but not to me. The sheet music has made it through four moves, from my parents' house to my first place on my own, back to my parents' and then later to my present home. I don't have the flute anymore, but the sheet music is still there, and I know where it is at any given moment.

Just this past May, I had the chance to attend one of the final performances of The Sound of Music in downtown Toronto. No one dressed in character, but it was still magical. After all, it was a serious production. There was an actual mountain set that moved as the characters climbed the hills into Switzerland and the Von Trapp children continued to steal scene after scene. And I was right there with them singing every song, with a smile and often a tear, depending on the gravity of what was happening to the characters.

Now the day has passed into night and I find myself writing this on Christmas Eve Day. It's Christmas Eve, with no more presents left to buy. A half day at work and a 15-minute drive home (hopefully with empty roads) is all that separates me from Christmas. That, and a flip through the television channels in search of those lovely Von Trapp children.

"The sun has gone to bed and so must I."

I'll see you tomorrow bloggers. You can't miss me. I'll be the one snapping her fingers in the grocery aisle. Either that, or I'll be singing "Climb Every Mountain" to Kao, who I'm sure will be howling right along with me. Bloggers, I think I have myself a showdog in the making. Perhaps Kao and I will tag-team Anasatan to really send her over the edge. I'm sure he'll be right into it - unless Anasatan bribes him with a bone. Then, he's a traitor and I'll have to do the knife dance just for him. Consider yourself warned, Kao my boy.

Weekend report

It's been a weekend of aches, vomit and diarrhea and most of them haven't been mine.

I wish Bella would use a toilet... maybe then her ass would be a little cleaner

As many of you will already know, my sweet cat Bella was recently diagnosed with diabetes. We've since changed her food to the wet diabetic management cat food. It's been a month and just today (after me buying 24 cans), she's decided that her delicate system can't handle it. Unlike us humans though, she can't tell me that and decided to show me by pooping in the basement - not just any poops - the runny kind and in many places. So, I had to wash her ass and do a major clean-up around her clean litter box and into the bowels of the basement (no pun, really). This was after we stepped in some and tracked it through the house, necessitating a washing of the floors in the kitchen and foyer. So, it's back to the drawing board on what to feed her.

V is for Vomit, D is for diabetic diarrhea

If it's not the cat and her runny poo, it's Kao and his projectile vomit. Yes, Kao has spent the last two days spewing his food. The cause: a pair of trouser socks he had unearthed from the laundry basket (newly bought, thank you very much).

He had also rummaged through the garbage, and even though I'm embarrassed to admit this, he had ingested a used, yes used, sanitary napkin. There's a reason I don't use them often and this is on top of the list. So, he's been puking. Thankfully, he's kept it to the back yard, and that, my friends, is how I discovered the socks - bought at Winners the week before. Can't I keep anything nice or anything private!?!?
I mean, it's my socks and my old, bloodied pads!

The puking has stopped, thank god. But now I'm wondering what else he's ingested! I thought his underwear-eating days were over but I guess not.

Aches and pains, my back, oh my!

You remember the cleaning house I had planned for my Saturday? I manged to clean the kitchen, load the dishwasher and do a few odds and ends. My back has been killing me for the past two weeks.

At first, I thought it was from all my coughing. I had a head cold for the last two weeks, though I took no time off of work, save an hour for a doctor's appointment. I then thought that it was from the confirmed bladder/kidney infection. But, it still hurts, so much that I couldn't do everything I set out to do on Saturday. I even put myself to bed for a nap at 5:30 in the evening, thinking I would sleep for an hour and then venture out to pick up the dog food I said I would get. I slept until 3 a.m. Thankfully for Kao, the Man stepped up. Our early morning conversation is another topic for another time.

Today was better. The back still hurt but I mustered through it and ended up going to my art class, where I drew houses, did poop patrol in the backyard, made dinner, did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Unable to sit still, I ran the duster through the living room. I even took Boyo for a walk with my friend The Girl. I bribed her with coffee and conversation.

Bathroom calamity

I don't know what made me go into the powder room later this evening. There, I discovered the toilet leak. The toilet had been running on and off for a bit. Repairs will have to wait until tomorrow, when I can call in my Jack-Of-All-Trades friend. I'm not handy and know when to call for help. The Man turned off the water to the toilet and I drained the tank. We believe it's a leak from the tank to the toilet, and hopefully, it won't take much to repair. Do these repairs ever end? It was just a year ago that my kitchen ceiling fell in, thanks to another leak in the upstairs toilet. The contractors hired to renovate the bathroom had failed to put the waxy seal between the drain and the toilet. Hopefully, this repair will be more clear-cut. In the meantime, I've wiped up the existing water and cleared around the toilet.

So, that was my shitty weekend. I tried to make the best of it and told myself that I can control the things I can (my attitude and reaction) and take a deep breath over the things I can't (like the toilet and the pukey and shitting pets).

Monday is the start of a new week and new goals. I'll endeavour to keep a clear head and an open heart.

The Life according to Kao

My peeps know that I love my pets, often referring to them as my “kids,” or as close to kids as I’m likely to get.

I was at the dog park a few weeks ago with Kao (pronounced Kay-O) when a fellow dog owner and park frequenter made the comment that I’ve heard before: “Oh, is the boxer yours? He’s gorgeous.” And, like time and time before, my heart swelled with pride and I said: “Thank you,” tears almost welling up in my eyes because I think Kao is just the ultimate (unless he’s eating my underwear, then he’s “Asshole.”). I thought about it for a split second and then offered up this qualifier, which caused the guy’s eyes to well up too – with laughter: “Well, I say that like he came from my loins, but can you imagine the damage he’d do to my uterus with those gangly legs!” He got the picture, you get the picture and it’s a picture I don’t want spread around too much. Or, at all. Imagine my surprise when the baby I was expecting for the past nine months not only has eyes and ears, but also paws and a tail. How the hell would I explain that to my partner, let alone the medical community?!?!

Since I gush on and on about my boy, I thought I would explain a little bit of his lineage and show you a picture of his actual dad, Zeek, with whom I fell in love and thereby started my love affair with boxers.

Zeek-er-rific!
At approximately 68 lbs. and with a disposition of your treasured childhood teddy bear with a mischievous streak, Zeek is the ultimate. He’s loving, loyal and at five, can play with the best of them, including his own offspring. While he was gentle when they were younger, he now serves out “what-for” on a regular basis, whether it be a nip, a hefty paw on the head or a growl. He loves them but doesn’t take crap.

I had taken a four-week art class with my artist friend and Zeek’s owner. I looked forward not to getting my hands into the paints (which was fun, but frustrating because I can’t draw a straight line even with a ruler), but to share an evening or four with Zeek, who would make rounds in visiting each student, often ending up with his head on my knee as I tried to make my trees look more like leaves and less like blobs of paint.

After I picked Kao up last October (man, it’s been almost a year!), I would plan visits for my boy to bond with his dad and his “Papi,” my friend’s version of “Grandfather” without being too old-sounding. Zeek would often try to sit in my lap – a 68-lb. lap dog with a penchant for stealing kisses. Not that I minded, but the French kiss was a little too much. Sorry Zeek. Scribe don’t play that way.

You can see the family resemblance, with the black face and soft eyes. Zeek is a reverse brindle, which means more black stripes than brown, while Kao looks more like a tiger, with his dad’s black and his mom’s tawny coat. A flashy bib and boots and a small line of white on his nose and that’s Kao in a nutshell.

And he is a nut. We can’t dance in our house because he gets concerned. If he thinks we’re upset, he’ll nose our hand, kiss it and lean into your legs, like he’s giving you a prop to stand a little taller. He knows how to spell.

P-A-R-K
W-A-L-K
T-R-E-A-T
E-P-I-T-O-M-E.
(Okay, I threw that in there to see if you were paying attention)

The other day he wanted to box. We were outside so I acquiesced, knowing he would stop if I said “Enough.” He’d trained more than I had, so when a jab of mine sent him into the corner, he countered with a well-executed left hook that sent my “eyes tired, just woke up” glasses across the backyard. I couldn’t get angry. It was a fair fight and the better boxer won.

I just wished he was wearing the gloves.

Update - the gods are smiling

Karma Chameleons everywhere are smiling... The man's baseball game as been called due to thunder and now he can be home to help me reign control over the castle of fuzz muppets.

All is well in Scribe's world. All is well.

And then there were five

Last night, my brother and his three kids came over for a whirlwind visit. The "kids" - Emme, Ry-Guy and Toby - were the whirlwind. Coffee cups were almost knocked over, toys were fought over and upstairs off-limits rooms were explored. Oh, and I now have a new air conditioning system thanks to Kao. Yes, he put his entire head through the front screen door.

He was excited to see his cousins, and especially to see Toby and his full-body afro. Now before you get a visual in your head, let me explain that Toby is my brother's 8-month-old Labradoodle, who would look so cool with a mohawk that I am trying to convince my brother that I should give him one.





Toby is coming for the weekend, a sort of extended play date while my brother, sis-in-law and the kids are at a weekend-long baseball tournament in Amherst, NY. They left this morning, with me in charge of picking up the mutt at the end of my work day. It will be chaos for the remainder of the weekend as both boys love jumping, boxing and barking. Toby does most of the barking, but Kao howls at his rubber chicken and when he thinks we're not listening to him.

Chou is on reprieve for the night. His excuse... I mean reason: a baseball game. It's his regular team so I have no cause for complaint. Only I will be the one to chase both dogs through the house as Toby explores every nook and cranny while Kao follows wondering where he can find his next pair of underwear. He considers it a delicacy, especially when they're mine.

A few dozen dog park visits are in order, I think. It will give me a little bit of a break and the boys will hopefully let off some steam before we venture back to the house of breakables, Bella and bells (cowbells).

The weekend, bloggers, has gone to the dogs. Bella is going to have a heart attack. Either that, or she'll pack her bags and start hitchhiking to the next town.

Things that make me go GRRRR!

Isn't he cute? But, piss him off and he'll give you what for! This little guy reminds me of my Boy Wonder, looking insolent and giving attitude when he's told he can't do something. That pisses him off. The following is a little list, a Top 5 if you will, of what gets my goat. Here's Kao to introduce the Grrr! List(there are more but I didn't want to win the gargantuan blog post contest...):

Take it away, Boyo.

Grrr #1: R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Everyone deserves it, not everyone gets it. I'm a firm believer in treating others how you wish to be treated and that goes for all members of the human race. The person serving you coffee at Tim Horton's does not deserve a sneering of the nose while he fixes your coffee and he deserves a please and a thank you, thank you very much. There should be no snapping of fingers, no whistles or cat-calls. A simple "may I have a double-double with milk please" will be suffice. 'Nuff said.

Grrr #2: Walking the green walk

If you're going to advertise the fact that you recycle and you respect the earth, at least have the decency of passing your Drive Clean tests. For those of you who live in other parts of the world, Canadians and Ontarians in particular have had to take their cars in for vehicle emissions testing, to make sure we are making as small a dent on our environment as possible. Today, while driving home from work, I noticed a recycling truck for a local rcompany heading onto the highway. Sure, it had recycling in the truck's belly, but it was hacking out plumes of the blackest exhaust I've ever had the chance to see. Think you're all about the environment? Think again, jackass.

Grrr #3: Close talkers

I'm all about space. Wide open space and that includes the space between me and you. Get up in my grill and I'll start to growl like the little Georgie Forman boxer there. Don't take the hint when I step back to give both of us a wider berth and I'm sure I'll bark a little louder, howl even. I'm a lover not a fighter, so I don't think it will come to fisticuffs but I'm not going to be held responsible. And don't get me started if you ever breathe on me while practising "close talking." I'll slap you. Really, I will.

Grrr #4: Re-inventing the English language

Now I'm all for progress. If there is a word that should be in the dictionary and there is a solid argument as to why it should be in there, then by all means. But if it's a non-word word, like. oh, I don't know... irregardless, then that's just plain assinine. Regardless or irregardless, it's the same thing. I think people thought of adding the "ir" to elongate the word and make them appear smarter. It doesn't. It's like fingernails down the chalkboard, just like when someone says "I don't know nothing." Apparently, you know something... that it pisses me off. Stop it. And don't get me started on your, you're, its, it's, there, their and they're. I can understand that some people may not thrive in English class. I get that, but it seems in this instant, email world it's laziness that prevails.

Grrr #5: You attract more bees with honey than with vinegar

My grandma always used to say this to me and I thought it was pretty bang on. I used to work at a gym as weekend manager, where I'd have anywhere from five to 10 people working with me that day - on the floor, in maintenance, on the front desk and juice bar. Most were students in their first job and they tended to socialize more than work. There were some exceptions, but for the most part, they needed a gentle reminder that they were there to serve the members. There were some daytime managers who did not subscribe to the honey method. They snapped their fingers, barked orders and talked down to the staff. With little results and no respect. Start with something positive, highlight a negative or a goal you'd like them to attain and thank them for doing it. It's simple. Respect. It all comes down to respect in any position or job you acquire. You give it, you receive it and it's a happy working relationship. Tempers and attitudes should not live here. Sadly, too often they do.