Archive for August 18th, 2007

False Advertising


See that tired dog?  That’s my fur-brother, Murphy the Murph-man Murph.  Or just Murphy.  Whatever floats your boat.  Anywho, wondering why he’s so tired?  Oh, that’s because he didn’t sleep last night.  We’re dog-sitting him while the rest of my family is basking in the sunshine in Florida for two weeks; hanging with Mickey, shopping for princess paraphernalia, dodging Hurricane Dean.  I was sold on a well behaved, perfectly potty trained, low-maintenance good dog.  Let’s run down our first evening, and find out what I actually got.

  • We walked in the house and he immediately peed on the floor.  I first blamed Bosco, because Murphy would never pee in the house, or so I was promised.

  • He cried until my husband got home, which is odd because usually Murphy just bites him.  Apparently now Murphy loves him.  The crying itself wasn’t bad, the poor thing is just very confused about why I stole him from his family, but after an hour straight, it got a little annoying.

  • When we went to bed, we took the dogs out.  We were sure to do that right before we went to bed.  However, anyone with a dog knows they always have one…more…drop.  Or stream.  As was released all over a bag of old clothes in our bedroom.

  • And then again at 1:30 am, he was a panic to go peeps.

  • At 3:30 am he scratched, then shook, then sneezed.  Then scratched, then shook, then sneezed.  Then scratched, then shook, then sneezed.  Irritated yet?  I hear ya.  I was there.

I hope tonight goes better.  For Murphy’s sake.  I might have to stick him in Bosco’s crate in the unfinished basement.  With the door closed.


Just kidding.  I wouldn’t do that.

Tornado Eirinn

The life and times, trials and tribulations, crimes and punishments, lessons learned and scores settled by my daughter, Eirinn, AKA The Tornado.

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August 2007


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