Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Puppy's momma
It seemed an obvious choice when I was asked by my babysitting family if I wanted to hang with their two pups for a week while they go on a mini summer holiday.
"Oh, they like to cuddle," the Mom said.
"Convenient," I said, "so do I."
Puppies, playtime and a nightly snuggle? Yes please.
Perhaps I should have known when I received a phone call the Saturday night before I set off on my week of dogs in the South Side. Went a little something like this:
"Lauren, do you know how to butcher a chicken?"
"Sure (lie), messily."
"OK, great. That's it."
Hm. Dinner? Pour moi? That's above and beyond. Well...not exactly. This odd, quick chat made a bit more sense when, the next morning, I opened their fridge to find eight gallon-size bags filled with a chopped up raw chicken. One slightly nerved phone call out to the parents later I find that these featherless fowl are for the pups. no, no cooking needed. Just throw them in the bowls and voila! Dinner is served.
The sound of their big dog jaws ripping into the wee back, thigh and wing bones was enough to send shivers down my meat-eating back. I ate falafel for dinner.
Chomping on uncooked poultry will wear any four legged friend down so off we three trotted to bed - a big bed. A family bed. I stretched out in one corner and the pups, one at a time, hopped their little raw chicken mouths all up in my the newly washed sheets. By morning there were a few paws massaging my bum as I got cozy with the wall. it was quaint.
That wasn't the only thing I woke up too, though. No. Monday was full of surprises. Like the big dog's nose erupted in some sort of open wound of a hive patch that he continued to itch all day every day. He was a walking bloody mess. After a full day of school on the other side of the Chicago world (a.k.a. Evanston) I opened the door and the bloody nose was waiting on the other side, ready to make a beeline for my bare leg, skirt or pant leg - whatever I was wearing - as the relief he'd been searching for (on any surface he could find) all day. Nights were the worst. The poor thing was up for all hours picking so that I'd wake up to a veritable crime scene. I went through three loads of laundry, cleaning sheets and towels and anything that I could throw over a one-time clean surface.
As this was all happening I was trying to drop subtle hints of concern to the parents ("yeah, he's bleeding a little here and there," "no, it's not getting better," "it might be getting worse," "alright, so he's a walking open wound!"). I finally got the OK to drug the dog with Benadryl: thank god for those sweet pink pills. The Mom suggested I throw those little guys in with a raw egg (cause he'll just sop those right up) but having had enough of the uncooked chicken - fully formed or no - I opted for a less offensive yogurt. BUT. They worked! The wound slowly became a scab and the three of us fell into somewhat of a normal routine. I felt a little like bad mom drugging her chillins to keep them quiet and at home, but damn if that wasn't helpful.
But just in case I was getting too comfortable, on our last walk together, somewhere between leashing the dogs up and returning home, I lost my keys. Yup. Good stuff. I will miss, terribly, my kick ass RENO key chain (100% Woman). But other than that, fairly harmeless.
So, what did I learn after a week of living as a single mom of two pups? 1) I'm only ever getting one. 2) they are only eating dry, fully cooked food 3) future pup is DEFINITELY not sleeping with me and 4) I'm not ready to be a puppy mom. YET.
Oh and I'm EATING margherita! It's SO exciting and terribly delicious.
Mini salad (featuring marg and basil)
"Oh, they like to cuddle," the Mom said.
"Convenient," I said, "so do I."
Puppies, playtime and a nightly snuggle? Yes please.
Perhaps I should have known when I received a phone call the Saturday night before I set off on my week of dogs in the South Side. Went a little something like this:
"Lauren, do you know how to butcher a chicken?"
"Sure (lie), messily."
"OK, great. That's it."
Hm. Dinner? Pour moi? That's above and beyond. Well...not exactly. This odd, quick chat made a bit more sense when, the next morning, I opened their fridge to find eight gallon-size bags filled with a chopped up raw chicken. One slightly nerved phone call out to the parents later I find that these featherless fowl are for the pups. no, no cooking needed. Just throw them in the bowls and voila! Dinner is served.
The sound of their big dog jaws ripping into the wee back, thigh and wing bones was enough to send shivers down my meat-eating back. I ate falafel for dinner.
Chomping on uncooked poultry will wear any four legged friend down so off we three trotted to bed - a big bed. A family bed. I stretched out in one corner and the pups, one at a time, hopped their little raw chicken mouths all up in my the newly washed sheets. By morning there were a few paws massaging my bum as I got cozy with the wall. it was quaint.
That wasn't the only thing I woke up too, though. No. Monday was full of surprises. Like the big dog's nose erupted in some sort of open wound of a hive patch that he continued to itch all day every day. He was a walking bloody mess. After a full day of school on the other side of the Chicago world (a.k.a. Evanston) I opened the door and the bloody nose was waiting on the other side, ready to make a beeline for my bare leg, skirt or pant leg - whatever I was wearing - as the relief he'd been searching for (on any surface he could find) all day. Nights were the worst. The poor thing was up for all hours picking so that I'd wake up to a veritable crime scene. I went through three loads of laundry, cleaning sheets and towels and anything that I could throw over a one-time clean surface.
As this was all happening I was trying to drop subtle hints of concern to the parents ("yeah, he's bleeding a little here and there," "no, it's not getting better," "it might be getting worse," "alright, so he's a walking open wound!"). I finally got the OK to drug the dog with Benadryl: thank god for those sweet pink pills. The Mom suggested I throw those little guys in with a raw egg (cause he'll just sop those right up) but having had enough of the uncooked chicken - fully formed or no - I opted for a less offensive yogurt. BUT. They worked! The wound slowly became a scab and the three of us fell into somewhat of a normal routine. I felt a little like bad mom drugging her chillins to keep them quiet and at home, but damn if that wasn't helpful.
But just in case I was getting too comfortable, on our last walk together, somewhere between leashing the dogs up and returning home, I lost my keys. Yup. Good stuff. I will miss, terribly, my kick ass RENO key chain (100% Woman). But other than that, fairly harmeless.
So, what did I learn after a week of living as a single mom of two pups? 1) I'm only ever getting one. 2) they are only eating dry, fully cooked food 3) future pup is DEFINITELY not sleeping with me and 4) I'm not ready to be a puppy mom. YET.
Oh and I'm EATING margherita! It's SO exciting and terribly delicious.
Mini salad (featuring marg and basil)
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
This is just getting weird
Well, it's August and I've sold all of my furniture. Yup. It's me, an aloha beach chair and my tele. It's not nearly the end of school but I had the fear of New York living/moving in me. So out the furniture went. I think this trumps the 28th birthday waking up at the Road Side Inn in South Dakota.
But I'm random enough so I'm heading down to Hyde Park for the next week to dog sit and pretend to live someone else's life. Then I have two more weeks of school and a shit ton of work to do, some silly presentation to give, a story to write, a video to make and a triathlon to run. oh and sending my life via usps - only 9 boxes. I don't know if that's sad or impressive.
In a matter of three short weeks I'll be saying goodbye to another city, another apartment, another mini life. I will miss this palatial apartment since it will be the biggest place I will live in...ever.
Margherita is doing well and pushing out tomatoes a plenty. It's kind of toppling over over with the weight of all of them and I haven't a clue what to do about that. But she's looking h.o.t and delicious.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
