Hi! I’m Maggie Mae, and I’m the Wine and Ice Cream pooch. My Mom and Dad don’t let me have wine or ice cream, the baby sometimes drives me crazy (and I drive her crazy with my kisses), but sometimes I get a sip of beer from my Daddy and my Mom usually lets me lick her oatmeal bowl. I sleep in my with Mom and Dad, in bed, under the covers, sometimes I like a pillow, but usually I put my head by their feet.
My life sure has changed since the baby was born. One day I was sleeping all day in bed with Mom (so glad she stopped working to spend this important time with me), and the next thing I know, this being is brought into my house, we were spending time doing something called “tummy time,” I don’t know about you, but I just call that “lying around.”
Oh, and now, instead of being called “Maggie” (my given name), I get called “dog-dog.” I mean, really, it is great that the baby’s second word was dog-dog instead of “Mama” (that’s what you get, lady, for that night you came home and rolled around on the floor, complaining about something called “contractions,” and I just wanted to play), but did the adults have to start calling me “dog-dog” too? No. No they did not. What if I just started calling you “human-human?” Yeah, I didn’t think so.
Anyway… that’s not why I took over Mom’s blog today. I took it over because she has lost her mind, which was all well and good (and funny) when I wasn’t directly affected, but yesterday I was. And I nearly died. Thanks Mom. Here’s what happened:
It all started when Mom wouldn’t take me on her run with her. “Five miles is too much for you, dog-dog. Plus, you ran four miles with us yesterday and you were a holy terror.” Note: I think “holy terror” is a bit extreme. There were just a lot of squirrels and cats out. Oh well… So, yeah, she left me home, then came back smelling all good, and drenched in sweat (which I helped with, by licking her from head to toe- that stuff is delish). While they were out, I had concocted a plan; I would keep having to go outside, just to drive Mom crazy. She hates letting me out these days because the yard is muddy and she wipes my paws (extremely roughly, I may add) when I come in. So, I put the plan in action around 5:45, and started whining at the back door. The woman finally let me out, and, my plan was immediately given up in place of FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!! The gate was open. “I guess those darn gardeners are good for something besides terrifying me with their leaf blowers,” I thought. The gate, by the way is never open; Mother is practically obsessive about keeping it closed, and doesn’t want me to be free. So, I went out into the world. I started by taking a poo right by the gate, and “did my business” (peed- human speak is weird). Then, I started chasing a squirrel. I thought about going into the busy street, but I remember from disc golf, that the street is not the place to be. From there, it gets a little fuzzy. I know I chased a few squirrels, and walked past a few neighbor’s houses. I was on the lookout for those raccoons that everyone keeps rambling about, but all I saw were CATS!!! I am so glad Mom and Dad aren’t cat people. Those things suck. They are like giant squirrels, but once I start chasing them, they hiss and act all crazy like. Kinda like Mom when she was pregnant.
Continuing with my story, I realized I just wanted to go home. I thought I was going to cry. Instead, I was brave and walked past the neighbor with the huge barking dog. I think I chased a few cats. They hissed. I hate those dumb things. And then, I smelled it! Home. The lovely smell of baby piss, laundry detergent, and coffee. I sniffed, sniffed, sniffed up the front walkway. But, there was a problem. There was a cat in the walkway. I just wanted to get home. I charged that fluffy bunch of hissing fur. It ran away! Success! I made it to my front door. I jumped up on the door, making a soft knocking sound, then politely sat and waited. I was a tiny bit scared that cat might sneak up on me; shifty little thing. Luckily Mom opened the door in time. She let me in, then fell on the floor and rolled around with me, while bawling. That woman, I tell you, so dramatic. Then, she started calling up everyone she knew; laughing and crying at the same time. She kept telling them that I could have died, and that I looked “frazzled” when she let me in. Apparently, “frazzled” is human speak for hair sticking up (which I only did to look huge for all the cats that were watching me), and tail between my legs (only because I was a teensy bit scared of those cats).
The rest of the night was pretty awesome. Mom and Dad kept telling me what a smart pooch I am (like I didn’t know), and I must have gotten a whole box of Trader Joe’s Peanut Butter Dog Treats (the best, trust me… even though I did eat baby poop
once twice), and they even gave me a fortune cookie. Then, we watched some show called Weeds, while Mom ate thirty peanut butter cookies (I even got a bite- sweet). Mom went to bed early, but I stayed up with the sane one (AKA Dad), and tried to get him to understand that Mom is losing her mind. I think he understood, but I’m not sure. That’s why I took over the blog today. Please, people, help me! I want to stay with my parents, but is there medication for this “Mom brain” thing? And can someone please gently suggest that Mom begin taking it? I mean, I survived my first lone adventure, but next time the cats might get me.
To finish, I thought that you might want to see how cute I was as a puppy (two years ago! Time flies when you’re (mostly) having fun):