Andventures with Angus, Butt Sandwiches and the Bathroom at My Exes House

I almost killed my dog Angus the other day. Not on purpose and not with unattended butter this time but with my more than ample buttocks.
I may have mentioned my dogs are fairly out of control and any attempt and creating boundaries is useless. At this point even if I tried to enforce them they would think I was just playing and then knock me down and try to eat my hair. With my training skills I’m beginning to think it’s a very good thing I don’t have children. They would probably end up being the terror of Phelps and the surrounding counties and people would secretly refer to them as Dahmer and Bundy behind my back. But I digress.
So being the out of control mongrels that they are they tend to think they are entitled to go everywhere with me no matter what I’m doing. For some reason especially when I go to Dave’s house Angus and Donald think they have to go to the bathroom with me and protect me from the shower curtain. While Donald just flops down on the floor and gives the shower the stink eye while making disgruntled huffing noises at it, Angus jumps right on in the bathtub and sniffs the curtain from the back side then rolls around on his back in the tub. Unless there’s water in it, then he jumps back out and prances around like a dainty ballerina trying to dry his feet off by sniffing then licking them one by one. I have no idea why. Because he’s Angus I guess.
So I’m at Dave’s and we go through our bathroom routine, I go to do my business assuming Angus is in the tub like he always is, and not thinking to look behind me to make sure I have proper clearance I go to sit down when what should my lumbering butt cheek feel but a warm, furry little head instead of cold toilet seat.
You know those stories of how distraught mothers, fueled by adrenaline when their child is stuck under a crashed car suddenly have the strength to pull the car off their baby? I have to believe that super human adrenaline strength and a whole lotta sweet baby Jesus intervention saved Angus from being the filling in a tukhus and toilet sandwich that day. I am neither a small woman or a fit one and the only toned muscle on my body is the one in my arm that delivers food to my mouth, seconded only by the one that moves my middle finger to wave at people that irritate me when I’m driving. So it is truly a miracle that Angus is still alive. I almost yanked the paper dispenser off the wall and felt muscles in my butt, thighs, abdomen and ribs that I didn’t even know existed until I tried to suddenly reverse course, like a panicked and frantically unintended Wayne and Garth schwing salute. Angus on the other hand didn’t even notice that he’d almost had a catastrophic collision with a deadly full moon. He happily continued lapping up refreshing toilet water like nothing had happened. Because he’s Angus.

Pups and Panera Pushers

After my morning walk I always go through Panera for a tea and cookie as a reward because I’m a giant, slobbering toddler that needs bribery and doesn’t understand the irony of processed sugar after walking my ass off. So I drive thru and get my usual but when I get to the window the ladies that work there are arguing. Someone pushed the Lemonade button on my order but I never get lemonade and they were confused. It was a little disturbing to know they know my order by heart and feel strongly enough to argue about it. Like it’s a certainty they can always count on, the sky is blue, the sun comes up in the east and the clown car lady with the dogs always gets tea. The only other person in the world that knows my order by heart is my brother, so I’m spending as much time with the Panera crew as I do my own family. That’s terrifying and completely pops my delusion that I’m even mildly a responsible adult with my shit together. They finally realize they can just ASK me as I’m sitting there blankly staring at them with Zeus dripping drool on my shoulder, also staring at them. Things got mildly better when they decided to just give me my order for free since they made me sit there while they figured it out and also because, “You come here all the time.” Fuck me, I’m an addict. I thanked my dealers for the free hit profusely because even though I’m an awkward disappointment of grown up I can at least pull off gratitude like a normal person. As I pulled away I heard one of them say, “She’s so sweet!” and that made everything ok, obviously they don’t know me at all.

Angus the Prancing Puppy vs a Frozen Baby Pool

Over the summer I bought my incredibly not spoiled dogs a pool to splash around in. Sometimes when we go walking they’ll take my arm off trying get in dirty water so I thought maybe I could fix that by getting them something clean to roll around in. But apparently a bright pink baby pool with crystal clear water just doesn’t have the allure of dirty, scum covered, swamp stinking, pond water because they wouldn’t touch it. I even tried picking them up and putting them in there with me but they would struggle like the rabbit in Fatal Attraction and jump right out again. As usual I was quite the entertainment for my neighbors when in all my portly glory, I tried to wrestle a 100 lbs Lab into a tiny pink baby pool looking very much like someone having a seizure while trying to tango with a fat dog only to have him whine like I was trying to drown him and jump out again after we were both good and soaked. I finally gave up and being a meticulously conscientious house keeper I tossed it in the corner of the yard and left it there to slowly rot with the rest of my tiny ghetto shanty. Lately it’s filled up with rain and leaves and slime and with the cold weather the filthy little thing froze over. Or started to. There was still a bit of water beneath the ice which my dear sweet Angus unhappily found out. For some reason he jumped up and was prancing around on it in his fabulous Angus fashion, like the star of canine River Dance when it gave way. It was just enough to wet his feet and legs but I think he must have jumped two feet in the air then ran straight to me in the house like ninja hounds of hell on steroids were chasing him, then stood and barked at it like a badass through the screen door and dribbled fear pee on my hardwoods while I dried him off. What a brave little soul he is. Sniffle, I’m so proud.