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Hooray for Boobies & Other Fat Lady Tales

✏ 38 year old cis female ✏ Fat ✏ Married ✏ Crazy Cat Lady ✏ Opinionated ✏ Swear-ey ✏ All caps silliness ✏ occasional pretendy writer ✏ LJ immigrant ✏ Journaling since 2006 ✏ Ex chatroom /forum role player ✏ Now on Tumblr ✏

Mar. 15th, 2007

BARK!

Mar. 15th, 2007 05:38 pm
elf_fu: (Coffee Whores)
Let me share with you the joys of living with an elderly dog going deaf.

This is an empty room. There is no one in it. BARK!
That is a car driving past. We live in a house which is right beside a main highway. BARK!
My butt itches. BARK!
I breath in. BARK!
I breath out. BARK!

Shawn's parents tried once, to teach the dog that it wasn't alright to bark. Bark constantly. Bark like a little wound metronome that just kept barking and barking and barrrking.

You know what they did? They got him a little collar. A little collar with a little box that sat near his doggie voice box, and every time he barked the little box would release this non toxic safe for dogs orange smelling stuff. The plan, I think, was to surprise the dog into shutting up.

It worked. And Shawn and I? Oh, we loved it. We had the dog follow us from room to room, spraying his orange deliciousness until the air smelled like a Florida orange grove. So yes, it did indeed work. For a day.

Shawn's mother was concerned that the collar was too tight, so she loosened it. Loosened it enough that it hung down his little chest and never sat near the dogs voice box. So, it would only go off he REALLY go himself going. In essence, she made it completely ineffective and Shawn and I lost our mobile air freshener. We attempted to explain to her why this wasn't working, and that he would still bark. But she wouldn't hear it, she'd already made up her mind that it was too tight to be worn properly and that was that.

Eventually, she removed the collar and the dog continued barking. (This dog gets taken to the vet more than Shawn and I see a doctor in a decade. So we can rule out any medical condition.) Six months down the line, she stopped one day near me and declared, "That collar probably would have worked had it not been too big."

And this is how I went insane folks. I swear, some day they'll find me skipping down the road in pink.

Barking.
elf_fu: (coffeecoffeecoffee)
Nothing says You Live In Florida more than finding a very, very dead little lizard tucked behind the dresser when you reach behind it to pick up the sock you dropped.

Florida is filled with these little things, they feed the birds and amuse me because I can bellow, "GEORGIE!" at the top of my lungs and trundle fatly after them.

This experience with the abundant little lizards was less than pleasant once I realized what state it was in, and what, exactly, I had in my hand. What commenced once realization had hit was an all out flailing leap to the trash can to drop the tiny carcass as if it were a freshly opened box of aids, jibber, and then begin the dance of disgust.

Which happens to look a lot like a blond fat lady holding her hands as far away from her body as humanly possible while running to the sink to soak her hands in acid.

I started cleaning then, and just popped by to let you all know how glorious life can be in the Pence household. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some corners to scrub.

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