marmite breath slept here

I hate my dog today.  I mean it.  Not just because he is a big, hairy window-licker, but because he chose a really bad time to disobey me.

He's very well trained, for the most part, our Spot.  Since we got him from the Humane Society, I have taught him to sit, shake a paw, shake the other paw, come when he's called (y'all don't be filthy now, and nobody better ask if I've trained Aaron to do that either)  lay down, stay, roll over, and die for the Queen.  I have been working hard on getting him to touch his paw to his nose on command too, but he's got a long way to go on that one.  Also, he won't jump through a hula hoop because he's scared of it.  

But for the most part, he's obedient, loyal, sweet and a pleasure to have around the house.  Other than the unholy amount of hair that he leaves on my furniture.  But he's a dog, and we have to expect that sort of thing.  He loves us and we love him.  The kids think he's the best thing ever.  They even try to convince me to buy him insane stuff like this! And I put up with his farts and shedding because he's just so good!

Except this morning.  When he publicly mortified me.

Where should I begin?  Well, I'll begin last night at 8:30 when I fell asleep in my clothes while Hadleigh read to me.  I didn't wake up until 6:30 this morning.  So when I woke up, I had my coffee and got out of the uncomfortable clothes I had slept in, especially the bra.  I put on an old ratty t-shirt and a pair of umbros.  The shirt almost covered the umbros and made me look like I wasn't actually wearing shorts, but that's okay because I wasn't going anywhere, right?  Ha ha.  Foreshadowing is fun.  I should also point out that I was barefoot.  And sans make-up.  And my hair looked like Don King's.

So after a while, Hadleigh was in the driveway waiting for her buddies to walk her to school.  She came inside and asked for the kitchen scissors so we could cut some roses.  I obliged, because I am awesome.  I walked into the driveway to go around the side of the house to the rose garden.  Tom stayed in the house.  Spot walked out there with me and milled about in the driveway, like he usually does.  Hadleigh got her rose and her buddy and started off down the road to school.  Spot looked like he was about to follow me inside.......and then he saw Gunnar, the neighbour dog.

*sigh*

And then he legged it down the road.  Which was okay, because Spot and Gunnar are friends and usually like to sniff eachother's privates (as you do) if they're both outside.  But then he kept running down the street.  And WOULDN'T STOP!  I shouted, "Spot! Come!" which is usually his cue to get back to me or risk my wrath.  But he ignored me.  I inched further down the driveway, trying not to shout loudly and draw attention to myself because OMG! I look like shit! 

And then I see Gunnar's owner, and he is grabbing Gunnar and watching in disbelief as my dog goes batshit crazy running across the street and all up in people's yards and following Hadleigh while barking madly.  I wanted the earth to swallow me.  I yelled him over and over again, and he ignored me every time.  I was edging down the driveway and then walking down the street, barefoot.  And I was ever-aware that Tom was alone in the house and I couldn't go too far.  And I was almost hoarse from yelling at the stupid dog.  Oh, and I'm brandishing the kitchen scissors.  So I must look like a total psycho!! 

Here.  I'll just show you what I looked like.  (I took this picture because after the ordeal was over and I came inside, I caught sight of myself and realized that nobody would believe quite how NUTS I looked).

I really couldn't believe that my dog was acting this way.  He ran all the way to the end of our street and then turned up the next BUSY street (cars were honking!) and started to follow Hadleigh to school, barking at her.  I was at a loss.  I couldn't go any further because (a) I was already three houses away from mine (b) I was having visions of Tom setting fire to our house while he was unsupervised and (c) I felt like I was in a nightmare, like the one where you go to school and you're naked, or maybe the one where the entire school walks in on you while you're pooping or wiping your bum.

I finally decided that the best course of action was to stand there, mute and ashamed, trying desperately to cover up my unshaven legs, broken-out face and disobedient hair.  Gunnar's owner yelled to Hadleigh to turn back and trick Spot into thinking that she was coming home.  He ended up grabbing my stupid dog and bringing him back to me.  At which point I died of shame.  Because on top of it all, I had the worst coffee breath EVER! 

I dragged the little bastard home by his collar calmly led my pet home and went to see if Tom was still alive.  He was.  

"Where were you?" he demanded. 

"Uh, pretty much guaranteeing that we won't be invited to any neighbourhood barbeques," I said. 

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Spot, in case you're wondering, is fine.  In fact, he was so worn out by the whole incident that he went to sleep in his usual lazy position.