I had to imprison Napodog today; he has figured out that while he is not allowed in the kitchen whilst I am home, that while I am away, there is no one to scold him and keep him from sticking his face into the garbage can, like a tiny hobo, to scavenge and rule his kingdom of filth. Several days this past week, I have come home and he has slunk to the front door to greet me, like he knows he’s done wrong and now has to face the tribunal. He will peek around the corner, survey the damage, and gauge my fury from a safe distance while I clean up peach pits and shredded saran wrap.
…He is lucky he’s cute or I’d have a new rug the approximate size of a twenty-pound dog.
Today, he didn’t even wait for me to leave the apartment. I was brushing my teeth and was struck by a fleeting premonition; one of those moments when you simply know something is happening that oughtn’t. Then I heard it: the sound of a tiny cheap aluminum garbage can with a pirate on front sliding across linoleum by act of dog nose.
“DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG!” I cried, with all the fury of a Spartan (only one with softer abs). He bounded around the corner with yogurt on his face, completely unconcerned about hiding the evidence.
So now he’s doing hard time in his cage while I’m at work. I wonder how long it will take for him to become institutionalized?
Napoleon: “These walls are funny. First you hate ’em, then you get used to ’em. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them.”
This is Penelope’s secret talent as well. Last night, I had bones leftover from the hamhocks I used in the soup I made. Because I cannot trust her to not scavenge them out of the garbage (Nick woke up in my bed one morning to a hunk of bone under his bare ass and FREAKED OUT), so I placed them in the kitchen sink. She’s just a tiny little thing, so there’s no way she could possibly get to them. Yeah right. That little bitch jumped up onto the counter and into the sink somehow, brought one of the bones into my BED and woke me up by chewing it into slivers very loudly at 2am.
BAD DOGS.
If Napoleon ever gets up on the counters it will be the end of Dogs In The Apartment, however, it will be the start of a new era: Stuffed Dogs On The Mantelpiece Who Watch You With Dead Glass Eyes.
There’s a place on the way to the Puyallup fairgrounds that does amazing taxidermy work!
Is it right by all those car dealerships, where hwy 167 ends?
I think so. It’s when you start curving down the hill toward Meridian, where the big weird painted satellite dish sits.
like a tiny hobo, to scavenge and rule his kingdom of filth
That is the funniest thing I’ve seen today. Or, like, ever. And a much needed giggle it was.
I’m always glad to know I made someone laugh. 🙂
I have a cat who likes to get into the trash. I’ve had to move the trash can under the sink. We leave nothing out on the table, counter, top of the fridge, etc, since there’s no stopping him.
I’ve thought about moving the trash under the sink, but cabinet space is at such a premium. :\
It is unlikely, however, that I will ever manage to teach him NOT to dig in the garbage.
He did the crime. He does the time.
I have an evil genius and the sidekick. One night, cooling beef stew on the stove while I brushed my teeth, I heard CLAAANGALAAANGALAAANG!!! Immediately, I knew it was the top of the stew pot hitting the floor. I raced downstairs to see both genius and sidekick each with a piece of beef in their maws. Genius jumped up onto the fridge where I couldn’t reach him, and sidekick jumped down onto the floor… only to realize his folly. I couldn’t scold sidekick–too cute, and contrite. Genius? Well, I’m too amused at how his little devious mind works.
At least he likes hanging out in the cage, so he goes in willingly when I direct him to do so–my last dog, he would snarl and turn into a whirling dervish if you even indicated you were THINKING about crating him.