I am developing a case of Mansion Fever. The boys are driving me crazy. They would argue over the blue sky and the round earth, just for the sake of arguing.
We bought Grizzly the old dog a bed today at The Devil's Playground. It's more like a rug with sides on it. The poor dog refuses to sleep in his doghouse, which could be because the beagle and the shepherd have taken both houses. They are like my kids, they don't know how to share, even though every time you see them on the porch, the beagle is using the shepherd's haunch as his pillow. Not to be confused with the dog pillow full of cedar shavings that HH wanted to keep and use on our bed. They shredded that long ago. Which is why Grizzly didn't get a really nice dog bed, all cushy with puffy sides. He insists on sleeping on the back porch behind the kitchen door. He has taken over our welcome mat, even moved it to where he wants it. Last year, I bought all three dogs a carpet remnant to lay on, but those stupid young dogs shredded them, too. I am afraid that one morning I will open the door, and whack a frozen dead Grizzly. He runs in the garage every time we pull in, and eats some cat food, and gets in a cat bed and turns around like he's making himself a bed. We'll see how long before his new bed gets shredded.
The animals have no respect for The Pony. He is quite low in the pecking order. Tonight, I asked him to take the cake plate and scrape the crumbs off the edge of the back porch. That's our Hillmomban garbage disposal. He opened the kitchen door, and it was like a scene out of Bambi. Five animals crowded around his feet. Tank the beagle and Genius the yellow cat waltzed right into the kitchen, even though they have never been allowed inside on purpose. The Pony said, "Hey! You guys!" and scooped them out with his foot. So much for showing them who's boss.
These fleabags live a life of luxury. I told HH he overfeeds them, and he said, "I only feed them once a day. They each get one cup of food. They're supposed to get more, but I make them hunt."
I suppose that explains The Great Chicken Massacre.
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3 comments:
LOL, the great chicken masacre, it sure has been explained now! The Pony makes me laugh..and the fact that the flea bags have never been allowed in on purpose makes me laugh too, because our dog Bondi has never been allowed in on purpose either, and it is why I found my eldest son sneaking him out of his bed this morning to the outside, where Bondi has a nice big doggie house with nice doggie bedding, gah!
Those chickens were probably the first decent meal they've had in weeks! Poor dogs. Ours are just as neglected. Right now they are locked up in their crates, which I moved to the carport. They've been out there all day and now they're whining. I locked them up for their own safety, because if I have to pick up one more piece of garbage out of my yard, someone's gonna be taking a dirt nap.
Cazzie,
I wonder if Bondi has ever spent a night in that nice doggie bedding?
Miss Ann,
We, too, have found the idiot neighbor's garbage in our yard. Not so much the yard as the part of the 10 acres right across from the neighbor's trash bags.
HH blamed our dogs. I said no, they would bring it right down in front of the Mansion, like where they left those chicken carcasses. I can't imagine them taking garbage just across the road. Either eat it there, or bring it down home to show off.
I blame the roving bands of other neighbor dogs. Because I can.
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