This rainy weather seems to bring out our inner feral.
Now before I go any further I just want to mention Tracey is horrified I’m even telling you this story. It’s not often she brings out the old ‘you can’t blog this’ but the story you’re about to read was on the cusp. I got it past the censors on the proviso I make things all right by the end of the post and the blame for any bits which might cause condescending frowns lands squarely in my lap. You know, the usual.
So I think the best way to start is by telling you our kids have an Uncle who used to eat dog biscuits as a kid. Yep, his mum had to hide them or the dog missed out. Why is this important? Well, for a start I think it makes us look like the normal relatives.
“Noooo,” Tracey wailed the other day when she came into the hall. Jazz, our long haired, white, fluff-ball Samoyed, jumped up and ran for the door. She’s a smart dog. The reason Tracey was upset and Jazz was running away was the weather. An ocean of wet had been dumped on our heads recently and the yard, which up until a month ago was nothing but dust, was green and lush. And muddy. “I can’t believe this,” said Tracey, grabbing out the mop and bucket.
I looked outside. Jazz was now sporting brown socks and muzzle. Presumably she’d spent the morning moving her buried treasures to dryer ground before plonking herself down inside our house for a well deserved rest.
The long and short of this is Jazz has been living on our balcony for much of the time lately – certainly whenever it’s pouring outside. We’ve even moved her food and water bowl up.
Which is all well and good but there is a downside, as Tracey discovered yesterday.
“The dog’s done a poo on the balcony,” Miss9 informed her. Naturally all the other kids went racing outside to see it. Master7 was especially impressed.
“That’s the biggest poo I’ve ever seen,” she heard him saying.
Tracey sighed heavily. She had people coming over and she hadn’t managed to squeeze a shower in yet. She stepped into the bathroom. “Thanks. I’ll fix it up shortly,” she said to Miss9.
She’s just started drying herself when she heard all manner of activity outside and then the voice of Master7.
“Come and see where the dog has pooed,” he was telling someone.
“Dammit, Josh!” Tracey yelled from the bathroom as she ferreted around for her clothes.
“Here it is,” she heard him saying proudly. “We told Mum it was here but she didn’t want to move it.”
We were, in fact, laughing over the whole dog poo saga today when there was another commotion outside.
“Hey, Mum!” we heard Master7 yelling.
Tracey went to go out the door but I stopped her.
“We’re inside!” I called back. The kids expect us to run to them. Drives me insane.
“Dad!” called Master7.
“That’s right,” I called back. “I’m in the kitchen.”
He popped his head inside the door.
“Dad, is the baby supposed to be eating dog food?”
And now, to fulfill my promise to Tracey, I should mention they were dry dog biscuits, Jazz has only done maybe four poos on the balcony in the years we’ve had her and also, it was my idea we buy the dog in the first place.
That should cover it I think 🙂
Oh, and that Uncle I mentioned before, he’s from Tracey’s side of the family.
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