The Dog (pt 4)
Posted on | May 1, 2010 | Comments Off
She’d been anxious quite honestly for a long time. Since the arrival of Doone, things had really hit an all time high. It was a different kind of anxiety and she wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. She fidgeted nervously as she glanced over at her SMTWTFS pill box, and wondered if its contents were no longer working properly. Maybe the time had come and she was finally losing it. Nothing would surprise her at this point. Perhaps she should do something to celebrate the occasion. A coming unglued party! She’d definitely need to dust.
Doone was making her uncomfortable. He’d agreed not to be in the same room when she was undressing. He also agreed he would stay out of her head for the most part, but that wasn’t always easy to do. Her mind wasn’t like everyone else’s. Sometimes he could read her like a book, and at other times he could barely make sense of what was going on in there because there was just so much. He was there to protect her, to help guide her, and to hopefully help her see in herself what she couldn’t or wouldn’t yet see.
She sat as quietly as she could, looking down at this beautiful dog. He was sleeping, she thought, and she just marvelled at how handsome he was for a traditionally scary breed of dog. She wanted to pet him, but that didn’t seem the kind of thing you did to a dog who spoke to you. She let out a sigh and startled as Doone jumped up onto her bed, lay neatly down at the foot, and closed his eyes once more. She took her evening medications and snuggled into her covers.
“Goodnight Doone” she said softly.
“Goodnight. You’re beautiful too by the way. . . “
Music to clean by…
Posted on | May 1, 2010 | Comments Off
In honor of Doone, she cranked up the volume…loud…to the Baha Men singing Who Let The Dogs Out
The Dog, Housework, Real Life (pt 3)
Posted on | May 1, 2010 | Comments Off
She realized that despite the fact there was a telepathic dog now living in her home, she had housework to do. If she was going to have to cook for Doone, she was going to have to clean the kitchen. An abundance of dirty dishes had accumulated in the sink, the dishwasher was full of clean dishes and the cabinet that once was home to “the mouse” (see upper right corner of screen) had most of its contents still piled on the counters waiting for a scouring and restocking. It was time. It was way past time. She wished the damn dog could help. Instead, Doone just sat there with that Cheshire grin that made her quite nervous.
She placed some dog food in his bowl and his grin turned to a dog-like frown. Sorry, she thought, but I have work to do. She began with the dishwasher and got all the dishes put away. Then she loaded it back up again. She then scrubbed all the pots and pans and scoured the cabinet soaking herself in the process. While the pans were drying, and she was drying, she cleaned the stove top. Boy she was on a roll, and the sweat was now beginning to roll down her. It was getting hot. Wasn’t it spring? It’s May. Too hot for May. Doone begrudgingly ate his dog food and sent a mental message that it served her right that it was hot since she didn’t cook him a decent breakfast, he was, however, impressed with the view of her bent over cleaning the cabinet.
Next was the vaccum. Now this was going to be interesting because she hadn’t met a dog yet who liked her Dyson. Doone didn’t flinch. She was almost maddened by this. He also didn’t get out of the way with any hurry. She vaccumed the whole downstairs; livingroom, dining room, breakfast nook…the works. Even went up the stairs with it and onto the landing. She was hot, sweaty and exhausted. Doone was almost smirking, if that was possible for a rottweiler, and she really was miffed he couldn’t help out. Instead he lay down on the cool tile floor in the foyer, with his head between his paws to keep cool, not letting the vacuum bother him one bit.
“Nice” Doone messaged as she struggled with the vaccum coming back down the stairs.
“Thank you, you lump of laziness.”
“I have other talents” Doone said as he let out an odor that was ghastly.
“I really need to get you something else to eat, don’t I?”
“Yes, you really do” he smiled.
And so she went on with her day of straightening the house and doing laundry and tripping over a lazy rottweiler who could talk to her, but wasn’t really saying much. He did, however, continue to emit a foul odor and she realized she needed to get to the grocery store…and soon. . .
Management Update
Posted on | April 30, 2010 | Comments Off
Our heroine has been overcome by the introduction of “Doone” into her life (the telepathic talking Dog) and is feeling a bit overwhelmed. She is resting comfortably at this time. We’ll keep you informed of her progress.
-The Mgt.
The Dog (pt 2)
Posted on | April 30, 2010 | Comments Off
“So you mean to tell me you can read my mind and you can communicate with me telepathically?” she said.
“Yes, I can” the rottie continued with great delight at the baffled look on his new Mistress’s face.
“We are going to have to set up some ground rules, I can’t have you going through my head all the time, it’s, um, you know, private” she said.
And the two of them bantered back and forth discussing the new rules of “Dog and Mistress.” This went on for quite some time until she started to get a headache. But there had to be rules. Rules to cover this “Dog” going through her head and this “Dog” seeing her in her undergarments and so on. So what if he was just a dog. (OK, so he wasn’t “just a dog.”)
She set up a space for the Dog to call “his” and put out water and food. He’d made it clear that dog food was not his first choice and that he’d be expecting human food as well. Little did he know she was not terribly fond of the kitchen. She would cook. (Rarely) She actually liked cooking once she got going. But the whole act of going to the store and getting the ingredients really took the joy out of it and she never got to the “got going” phase very often. Take out menus were scattered around to appease her human need to eat when she just didn’t want to deal. Even when she was craving a tuna wrap, she could call for take out.
She locked the dog out of her room after letting him out to do his business and lay down on her bed to consider the goings on of the day and the last few weeks and her life. Things had gotten weirder to say the least. You just don’t think of these things happening to you in real life. She was actually shaking a bit and it wasn’t from her myriad of medications. It was from the nerves of it all. It was a lot to take in. She had a talking worm in her life, and now a talking Dog. Probably the same talking Dog that was telling her to get out of bed before (in her dreams) when things were really bad and her depression was at an all time low. Perhaps not. That was kind of a stretch, wasn’t it? Why was this Dog really here???
The Dog (pt 1)
Posted on | April 29, 2010 | Comments Off
The doorbell rang as if it were any other day a doorbell may ring, only this wasn’t any other day. She opened the door to see a rather large rottweiler sitting obediently with what almost appeared to be a smile on his face. There was a message on a piece of paper rolled up and tucked into his collar. She was extremely hesitant to approach the dog seeing as she didn’t know this particular rottie, but something inside her head assured her it was OK. She approached cautiously and allowed him to sniff her hand which he then began to lick.
“Yuck!” she thought, as he continued to lick her more and more. “He’s friendly, I guess” and she grabbed the note.
The note read: “Please take care of this dog. He is very special as you will soon find out. He will protect you and guide you. Signed, WG”
“Hmm….” She wondered if “WG” was “Worm Guy” and why would he be sending her a dog? Nice choice. He was a beautiful dog. Little slobbery though. OK, a lot slobbery. Oh and boy did he smell. Have to work on the diet there buddy.
“Okay” he said.
She stopped dead in her tracks and stared. No way. Couldn’t be. Had to be something else. She looked around.
“No, it was me. Over here. I’m Doone.” the dog said with a definite smile on his doggie face.
She sat right down onto her front step to catch her breath and look around for neighbors. First a talking worm. Now a talking rottweiler. Perhaps no one was talking and it was all talking in her head and she really was sick.
The dog came up and licked her smack dab in the face, across the cheek and right on the lips. “Yuck! YUCK! YUCK!! STOP!!!!” she shouted!
“Okay, okay! Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he said with a grin and wagged what would have been his tail if he had one.
She invited him in and noticed a red wagon full of “dog stuff” including food, some toys, a bed and such and pulled that in the house as well. This was going to be an interesting day for sure. . .
Alone in her head
Posted on | April 28, 2010 | 1 Comment
Though she never heard voices in her head, except for that of her own sarcastic self narration, she found herself feeling rather lonely now that she was provided with a new found clarity of mind. She wondered if this is what normal people felt like. She wondered if there were such things as “normal people” and smiled. (Wrinkles ack!) “Normal is a setting on the dryer” she was told. Well, without the stuff spinning around in her head, she just felt like she’d walked into a ghost town. Feel free to “enter ghosts” any time to keep things interesting.
Perhaps it was the quiet. She wasn’t used to the quiet. Again, this implied voices and it wasn’t voices it was thoughts and memories and information and just a lot of mental laundry spinning around in there. No voices. She wanted that clear. (Little insecure with that whole voices thing, no?) Now she just had slow flowing waves of mellow whatever like a fluffy ride of la la -ness. Yeah, that certainly made it sound as if she was stoned. She wasn’t stoned either. She didn’t know how to explain it because she really didn’t know what “it” was going on in there. Like the workers had all taken a break, or maybe she was floating (Oh no, another -ing word!) … no no no… this just wouldn’t do.
She finally gets some peace and quiet and she cannot stand it. Nope. Music. Begin music. Music with lyrics this time. She wanted voices. She wanted someone talking to her… Jason Wade of Lifehouse singing to her. Yes… this was nice.
Peace and quiet is over-rated. . .
Happy Meals Illegal in California County
Posted on | April 28, 2010 | Comments Off
Happy Meals will be a whole lot less happy for some and are now banned in Santa Clara County. The ban, effective in 90 days, will be enforced by the Health Department. Fast food restaurants will no longer be able to entice small children or weird adults like myself into buying Happy Meals based on the toy. This is an attempt at making eating “healthier” for the children. It’s pretty safe to bet that parents who don’t want to deal with their screaming children will exit the county and take them to restaurants not participating in the ban, or actually cook them a meal at home. (Oh wow, won’t that be a shock for some!) It will be interesting to see if this spreads to other counties or states for that matter and to see if they can prove if it has any effect at all on the health of children and or adults eating or not eating said Happy Meals.
A battle with toenail polish
Posted on | April 28, 2010 | Comments Off
There really was something to be said for the pedicure given to you in a salon in one of those big vibrating massage chairs by some guy or gal who would let you soak your troubles away and give you a massage all the way up your calves all for approximately $24 depending on where you live. Men can get theirs done, as well as a manicure, though many play the manly man card and won’t go near the places. Whatever, their loss, she thought.
The other perk of having your pedicure done, aside from having a wonderful massage and your nails properly clipped and filed, was that your toes would be painted all nice and neat. NEAT being the operative word here.
She had just finished her own version of a home pedicure. It didn’t consist of anything but polish removal and a quick clipping and filing of the nails. Then an attempt at re-polishing. She didn’t fair so well in the NEAT department, having gotten polish all around the surrounding portion of the nail. She figured she’d be able to clean it up later…that polish lifted right up easily after it was dry. (So she hoped anyway.)
She’d gotten a new polish at Target earlier on her errands (Yes! She was out and about early in the day, no kidding!) and was eager to try it out. She should have just brought it with her to a salon and let the pros do it. This was turning into a messy, smelly event without any of the massage or comfort usually involved in the process. Hmmm…
She wondered if she should give up and frolick off to the salon anyway, or continue to try and turn the “art” on her toes into something presentable. She was trying to conserve some money. Tempting though…that calf massage really was tempting…
She wondered who came up with the idea of painting toenails in the first place. Another man idea perhaps. One more thing to have to deal with. Worse yet was fingernails. The polish ALWAYS chipped unless you had fake nails and who wanted to pay for and deal with those? Not to mention inhale the powder and dust involved in the process. Bleh.
She looked down at her toes again and thought maybe this battle could be won and things would be salvageable after all. Beautiful toenails to show off…when she opted to save her feet instead of her brain.
Management Update: Hello!
Posted on | April 27, 2010 | Comments Off
If this was a completely ridiculous alternate reality, this monkey here would also talk to our heroine. At the very least he would say “hello!” But this is a wooden monkey, and some things are “normal” in our heroine’s life, and this is one of them. Her vintage wooden monkey would not be speaking to her this evening, nor would the now probably sauced Worm Guy (yes, a Bug) who was off visiting friends.
Management felt the need to make this clarification that not everything is weird, weird, weird, and that in some cases our heroine leads a completely normal life.
-The Mgt
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