Friday, May 18, 2012

I was going to write something nice about the dogs

I mean, look at them. Aren't they adorable? And look at how they decided to pose so attractively in the new flower bed created by the dry creek bed. I've never seen them lie together in the sun, ever, and yet I turned around last weekend and there they were, ready for their closeup. Thank goodness Mulch Boy had his iPad there so we could capture the moment.


It's important to remember these moments so that I won't kill the dogs when they're not being so adorable. Like, for instance, the other day when I saw them rolling purposefully on the ground at a very specific spot in the backyard, taking turns at it. This is not unusual behavior, and so far this spring it's been harmless, resulting in grass-scented pups.

However, I did not anticipate that, with the accelerated spring we've had, Dead Baby Bird Season* might also be ahead of schedule. I got schooled to that fact when Charlie and Rosie came joyfully into the house and OMG THE SMELL OF DEATH. If you've never experienced it, count yourself blessed. If you've never experienced it on your beloved pets who just want to hug you and kiss you and share their good fortune, count yourself exponentially blessed.

Luckily, I had them cornered in the kitchen, and everybody got a good (albeit highly resented) washing. I then went out back to collect the corpse that caused the trouble. However, it was gone, I suspect down Rosie's gullet. But the stench was strong enough that the ground itself still reeked.

Back inside, the culprits were all "Why can't we go back out? Why did you have to use soap and water on us when we hate that? We are totally telling Dad." And I was all "Go ahead and tell him, he'll be on my side. And don't you DARE kiss me with that mouth, young lady!"

Luckily, they really are adorable, and by the time Mulch Boy got home from work, I'd forgiven them. I did tell Mulch if they did it again, it would be his turn to deal with the consequences.

*Dead Baby Bird Season: when all baby birds come to die in our backyard.

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