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grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…

11 Feb

At this point in time of my life, I am the parent of 4 furry, 4-legged pets. Two cats and 2 pups – and let me tell you, I NEVER WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN. Sometimes I wonder if 2 am diaper changes and 3 am feedings would be less work than pets, and then I realize that it’s probably about the same, except that children eventually learn to talk back. And dogs don’t. *smile* Besides, baby cages are frowned upon in modern society.

Russel is now about 9 or 10 months old. The discrepency is due to the fact that my friend who I bought him from can’t remember if he was born in April or May…I’m just making his birthday in April cause that’s when Karn’s is, too, and that makes it easier to remember. And I need simplicity in life. So anyway, Russel is now about 10 months old and has been kenneled since I first got him. I don’t use it as a punishment or as his home or as his bed (actually, ALL my pets sleep in bed with me at night), all you PETA people out there, no, I just use it more to give me peace of mind while I’m at work. Knowing that he is safe and not chewing on electric cords or smoking pot while I’m at work definitely helps me to get through the day easier. Well, in his now advancing age, I thought it would be a good idea to leave “the brothers” out together to play in the kitchen while I was off making the money to buy their food. I thought they’d enjoy spending the day together and I thought I had puppy-proofed the place well enough. I WAS WRONG.

It started out innocently enough: I gave them plenty of toys with which to amuse themselves with, I left them a full bowl of food and a full bowl of water, I even donated one of my older comforters to them so that they would have a nice, soft place to lay that is reminiscient of the furniture that they lay on CONSTANTLY. I gave them both their breakfast and walked out the door, wishing I could just skip work and be a dog, myself, for the day…but I digress. Anyway, so, due to the fact that the people who I bought the house from never had a backdoor key, and due to the fact that I’ve never gotten a new doorknob for the backdoor so that I may have a key, I come in through the basement when I get home. I also have to disclose that I have a baby gate up in the stairway inside the house to prevent the dogs from going into the basement and munching out on the cat food. Much to my dismay, Russel was there, at the basement door, to greet me which meant one of two things: Either he learned how to teleport OR he fell down the steps. I’m betting more on the latter, and that scared me enough to swear off of the Free-For-All kitchen party time the moment I saw his wagging body. Thankfully, I had yet another reason to keep him safe and secure in his kennel once I made it upstairs into the kitchen: I think every square inch of the linoleum floor was covered in either pee, pieces of paper, bits of a plastic bag or a couple of my yes-they’re-still-out Christmas Cards. Apparently, “the brothers” had held a competition to see who could rip various different materials into the smallest pieces before Russel bent the space/time continuum. 30 minutes later, after I finished cleaning my floor with Mr. Clean ::thanks be to me for having had the foresight to buy a handled mop::, I also noticed a third NO-NO: they had chewed my phone cord into an unuseable bit of spitty pieces as well. Guess plastic coated wires was one of the materials on the menu.

Long story short is that Russel and Karn’s kitchen play bull pen was short lived. And it’s not that I’ll NEVER let them have that kind of fun again, but I really would rather not be concerned over whether they’ve broken a neck/leg or electrocuted themselves. So, until the day comes when I know they won’t maim, dismember or otherwise hurt or kill themselves while I’m at work, Russel will once again remain in the caged confines of his safety net and Karn will once again be able to pretend he’s 18 hands and bulletproof when the mailman walks on the porch. Happy days for all!

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