Friday, February 10, 2012

Fortuitous Friday. Dogs Pwn Babies

After my Christmas lamentations on the failing of human kind towards the furry companions we've spent thousands of years domesticating (only so we could abuse them it seems) I decided to put my money where my mouth was. Literally, and figuratively. In addition to my Christmas donation to the shelter I also decided to do a used pet-food/toy/blanket drive at the Ammunition Plant. Long story short- I'm off delivering the proceeds of said goods to the SPCA..... less (more than a) few mouthfuls my own pets decided they would appropriate from said needy animals. Selfish bastards.

My shelter of choice, locally, is about an hours drive away so I decided to make a day of it and bring them the stuff which has been piling up since Christmas. By the time you read this then, I'll already be gone. Though that sounds like the opening to a suicide note, it's actually a good thing. My day off, that is to say, not suicide. Unless you're in a lot of pain or really, really bored, then it may be okay. As long as it's legal in your country because I can't do a prison bit for encouraging suicide. I'm quite simply too pretty for prison and I have a terrible allergy to shower-rape. It makes me break out in a rash.

Nooooooo! I thought the chocolate was freeeeeee.

After the pet-supply drop-off I've got an afternoon 'date' with She Who Will Be Named Later. I'll be taking her to a salt-pool where she can frolic in the water which is, I'm assuming, mostly shark-free. The great benefit of the salt-pool, I'm told, is that there is no chlorine which, apparently, is harder on your eyes than salt. I'm not convinced but I'm not a great aficionado of pools, oceans, or lakes, so what do I know? I don't even like baths to be honest- which isn't to say my personal hygiene is poor, but rather that I enjoy showers a lot more. Something about sitting in a luke-warm tub filled with your own filth that doesn't appeal, but I have all sorts of funny phobias so maybe it's just me.

As for swimming, well, I grew up fairly land-locked. Thanks to the plethora of lakes in Saskatchewan (and no shortage of people willing to throw you in them) I did learn to swim, but not very well. I'm quite content to splash about but swimming lengths in a public pool seems like it could be a court-induced punishment for misdeeds up to and including minor assaults. On the plus side the pool isn't really public- they don't just let any jerk in so it is extremely likely we'll be the only two there. Or three, if you include the as-yet unborn New Mouth To Feed.

What can I say? It's no one I know, but the picture sure fit the blog post. The original caption on the photo indicates 'Note to any local social workers: no babies were thrown into any lakes during the taking of these pictures'. All I can say is: PROOF OR IT HAPPENED. I also like the qualifier 'local' suggesting social workers from afar who may have concerns can get stuffed!

New Mouth To Feed is, apparently, hitting the time when she will be growing like mad. I was also informed that her eyes are now open, and that she can hear what is being said by those around her. This is now the reason, apparently, I am subjected to 'suggestions' that I should 'stop swearing' and 'quit saying stupid things about the baby' but my counterargument is both sound, and (I'm sure) backed up by scientific facts: she is, quite simply, too stupid to know what I'm saying. Hmmm... that sounds a bit harsh, doesn't it? Well, technically it's true, and quantitatively our dogs are smarter than she is right now.

Hard to believe this could be smarter than anything really.

I suppose I could humour her by saying: "Yes, dear, I understand your very valid concerns, but the baby's development hasn't yet allowed her to understand that I am using curse words, or that I have expressed my opinion that she may be a pain in the buttocks one day." And, between you and I good reader, until she's at least able to 'Fetch Soccer', 'Go To Bed', and 'Find Ball' all on her own, the dogs will remain the intellectual champions of all things under 3' high in my house. I'm also betting they will all struggle to put the same stupid, dirty things from the bathroom garbage can in their mouths for at least three years so the fact I use the word 'fuck' while she's in the womb doesn't seem like a big deal.

I assume New Mouth To Feed's current watery environs are chlorine free, but what about salt? It is an exclusive pool as well, and she's got the place to herself. Except, of course, for all the organs floating about she's got to dodge- or not as she seems to press against lungs, bladder, and ribs (not an internal organ, I know but it is inside) with regularity. I felt her moving about for the first time a few weeks ago, and though I was tempted to hit her back (just to show her who's boss) I was informed by She Who Will Be Named Later (who seems intent on foiling all my evil plans) that that wouldn't be appropriate and may lead to divorce and/or jail time, and as we discussed, above, I can't go back to prison.

In case you haven't worked this one out I am woefully unprepared mentally, and emotionally for the upcoming 'event'. I've still got a couple months but my application for a further 20-week extension was turned down by both She Who Will Be Named Later, and our poxy Midwife. It seems the 'due date' is non-negotiable and no matter how much foot stamping, whining, crying, and begging I do, it is rather fixed in stone (sort of). That means my days of sitting drunkenly on the computer blasting noobs with various tanks is coming to an end. At the very least it will be restricted and/or curtailed as those around me keep claiming that being drunk whilst caring for a newborn is 'abusive' and 'immoral'. I mean, come on, crack-whores are allowed to keep their kids and I can't even chuck on a pair of headphones, guzzle a bottle of Scotch, and hope the dogs learn how to comfort and change the baby all on their own? It's Political Correctness Gone Mad I say!

Dogs, like people, are much cuter when they are babies. Except for supermodels. They're cuter now.

I'm fairly confident I can work 'Change Baby' into the dogs repetoire, or at the very least their conflicts with the baby over the booty in the bathroom bin will keep them all amused at least long enough to get a couple of battles in. I've also been informed (by more than a few people now) that leaving the baby sans diaper knowing the dogs would 'take care' of any mess is 'gross', 'sick' and 'probably illegal'. I am confident, however, that the extra free time it would give me may offset any future costs of New Mouth To Feed's therapy regarding the whole 'I was raised by dogs' thing she may cling to, or why she bursts into tears every time a dog tries to lick her. I've read lots of stories about children raised by dogs and they all seem to have turned out okay, didn't they? Well, in fairness, I never really read any of those to the end to check, but I'm sure it'll be fine. What could go wrong?

Happy Friday Everyone!

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