Oh no.

I didn't laugh at today's Marmaduke, but I do identify with it.



Dixie hasn't broken anything with her tail yet, but when she gets excited, it seems like she could.

Marmaduke is never funny, but today, it is accurate.

Dixie is a cat.

And in a comic!



Too many times! Too many times that muttly mutt of mine has waited for me to leave the room and then hopped right onto my spot.

When I return, she will wag her tail, "talk", or just look so innocent.

But she sticks to couches and beds - my uncle's cat once got into his medicine when it was out on the kitchen counter.

Pets!

She will get off, of course, if you shove her butt. However, I did not know that 10-year-old dogs could still pull off puppy eyes.

Oh, it's another year or somesuch... New Law and Order tonight!

Dixie and her Haircut.

You're boring her.

Dixie and her Exhaustion

Why won't you let her sleep?

Dixie and her Table

Coffee table.

I rescued it when Mom bought a new set at a yard sale, and it's really come in handy at the foot of my bed - holding books, clothes for the next day, extra blankets, whatever.

It's also incredibly strong, and can serve as a bench, obviously.

Dixie and her Nap

Sorry I woke you.

Dixie and her Butt

What a goofball!

She turned ten the 11th.

She's not acting like a middle-aged anything, she's still chasing Wickett, rolling on her Frisbee, shaking her rug, and having fun.

I hope I'm so lucky when I'm her age. (Not 70, I forgot the formula, but she's not ten in human years, I know that.)

Dixie and her Opinions

You will listen.

Dixie and her Ice Cube

Cute story.

Tuesday night, the dogs were really hot because they'd been out for a few hours and it was muggy and miserable.

And, as you can see, Dixie still has her winter coat. Mom says it doesn't make her hot and my medications and doctor appointments mean we can't groom her yet.

Anyways, I got out three ice cubes and handed them out. Wickett ran under the computer and munched away merrily.

Mikey sat on the rag rug and growled at his if someone came near.

But Dixie! She was sprawled out on the floor since it's cooler, and she licked the ice cube, trying to get it towards her, and it kept moving away the more she licked!

Well, she wasn't about to stand up, so she lunged forward and grabbed the cube, turned 90 degrees so she was on the rug.

She got her ice cube then.

And later Mikey's, but I had to help, because her tongue and paws chased it under the chair and I had to pick it up and throw it onto the carpet.

Tonight, I gave her another one and she left it on the kitchen floor. I grabbed it, tossed it on the carpet, and she crunched away.

Wickett cleaned up the crumbs.

Dixie and her Couch

They had a fight...

Dixie and her Heating Pad

Just who does she think she is?

I plugged that thing in and went upstairs to get in my PJs so I'd have a nice, warm heating pad waiting for me when I came downstairs.

Dogs!

Dixie and her Pillow

Mikey's on Mom's slippers, Dixie's on a pillow.

She's so pretty.

Dixie and her Pink Collar

That would be baby Dixie. And our old couch. And an old, old rag rug that probably got torn slowly to pieces before being tossed out.

And yes, I took a picture of a picture. Our scanner is weird.

Forget Brat Dolls!

What's hurting our country is brat dogs.

Like that one!

It's storming - heavy rain, around 40 degrees, some fantastic lightning, but not much thunder.

I thought it was the thunder that set off ol' crybaby Dixie, but no, it's the whole thing!

She got 2 benadryl in some white bread (and the boys got a couple of pieces too, I'm not a monster) around 6 or 6:30.

As it is now midnight, I figured the time is right to do it again - Wickett was the only boy to get bread. He's special.

If I go upstairs right now and leave her to sleep on the couch, she could pee in the house.

And it would be my hide. Because her pee stinks and it's bigger than one of the boy's bodies, let alone their puddles.

AND! To top it all off, I'm on this knew painkiller. My body's not responding to the Lortab (Hydrocodone and tylenol) anymore. This happened every few weeks the last time I was on Lortab for an extended day-to-day time: November 2003 to January 2004. Short, yes, but painful. "Acid burn" is too gentle for what it was. So the Lortab'd stop working, and we'd switch to another for a week or so, before going back to the Lortab.

And I think this is the one Limbaugh got addicted to. How? It's been an hour and a half, sure, I'm a bit sleepy, but still in pain.

AND! To top that off, our new, state-of-the-fucking-art heating pad refuses to work for me!

It has an LCD display and goes all the way up to 171 degrees Fahrenheit. I always set it there and get a nice red splotch on my belly after using, but GOD, does it work.

However, yesterday, being Friday the 13th, it hated me. HATED. I needed it at 10:30 when I woke up from my nap.

So I plugged it in, turned it on, and set it for an hour at 171 degrees.

And it just said "LO" at me in the temperature spot!



But tonight, when I'm pain and I need it, I plugged it in and took it out and plugged it back in and put it in different sockets and it still said "LO"!!!!!

And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in the little paper that came with the pad that says "LO" or what to do when it says that. Not even on the Spanish side!

Then, I plugged it in to the socket by the door, and the temperature started to climb!

And I moved it to the computer and it's still working! Yes!

It's at 167. Mmm, nice and warm. You know what sucks? Needing this and having a hot flash. When it's 60 degrees out. And having a hot flash at 18, before your mother.

Back to Brat Dogs (tm), I wanted to try the heating pad upstairs and read in bed.

But if I do that, no one will stay here with the Baby.

And the Brat could get freaked and pee.

On the carpet!!

So, here I am, risking our computer and all that's on it by typing this. I'm all for storms, but I wanted to get on the 'puter.

But at least I've got the heating pad working.

I feel like fighting.

I am hereby challenging Zuzu, of Feministe, to a cuteoff.

Her Junebug to my WMD of cuteness.






This is how she'll feel at the end, when she loses. If she ever pays attention. If she doesn't, I win by default!

Dixie and her Bed

A note - this is my bed. And it is stripped so I don't have to sleep on Dixie hair tonight. As soon as she left, I made it, MOTHER.

Dixie and her Paw

How ever will she escape from this one?

Dixie and her Exhaustion

Well wouldn't you be if you had to be that beautiful and deal with the twits on a daily basis?

Dixie and her Clones

A Christmas gift for an internet friend, a student of my mom, and the Crisis Center.

Wickett and his Hunting Crouch

His enemy du jour?

That furry thing attached to his butt. He will catch it. He barks at it!

Since he got fixed, he stopped peeing in the house (except for today), but he's still noisy, crabby, and likes to hump Mikey and sometimes Dixie.

But he's also regressed to puppyhood again! It's so much fun. He'll chase his tail for hours, and today he was yelling at it and becky had the camera with a friend's house for pre-prom preparations. (The friend's boyfriend is a senior.)

But I will get video of him on the hunt one day.

Speaking of hunting, Dixie's killed her first palmetto bug of the season. It was under the grill, I moved it, and she struck. Bug guts and dog slobber everywhere. Thankfully on the porch this time.

Palmetto bugs are just big-ass cock-a-roaches. And Dixie loves to kill them.





(Substitute the palmetto bug for Mikey)