Dogs for sale...cheap!

So I came home from work this morning to discover that Murphy and Belle now apparently like macaroni and cheese, so much so that they grabbed a bag containing two dozen boxes of it that was sitting on a chair in my kitchen and shredded and scattered 18 of those boxes all over my kitchen and living room. Two rooms are now covered with a crunchy carpet of macaroni noodles and no small amount of cheese powder.

W. T. F??!!

This, times 18:

I hate them.

I hate dogs.

Until I cool off, Murphy and Belle are now "outdoors dogs". They can live in the pen forever now.

Because it was so hot when I went to work, I decided to do the nice thing for the dogs and leave the basement door open so that they could go down and lie on the cool concrete floor while I was gone. Normally they don't go down there but these last few days I've seen them coming down while I was reloading or working in my basement shop just to flop on the cold concrete. So since there's nothing really down there for them to get into, I figured why not just give them that option while I'm gone. It sure beats leaving the whole house air conditioning on for them, right?

Not even factored into my decision was the laundry tub containing some new storage food that I'd bought to put up. This particular tub, covered with a lid but not yet sealed, contained large sacks of rice and pinto beans and a couple of cans of oatmeal--2.5lb. cans of oatmeal, to be precise. The big ones.

The dogs have never messed with this stuff before even though there has always been right at their level in my kitchen pantry every day. But there's a first time for everything, and when I arrived home, the basement looked like a Rocky Mountain pass in January--it was covered in white flakes, and there I found the remains of two of the large oatmeal cans. The dogs had opened the tub and gone to town on the oatmeal.

Damned dogs, I thought as I went upstairs. But at least the oatmeal cans only cost me two dollars each and they'd left the bigger, more expensive sacks of rice and beans alone.

Lesson learned by me, right? Oh, but there was a bigger one coming, one that I wasn't thinking as I walked up the stairs into the house proper. This lesson concerned the effects of several pounds of dried oatmeal inside of two German Shepherd dogs who apparently also drank a lot of water. Apparently all of that oatmeal really expands when water is added inside a dog, just like it does in a bowl, and the end result is about ten pounds of oatmeal barf and dog crap on the floor in quantities and locations that leave me no doubt that both dogs were equally guilty in the oatmeal theft.

Yeah, I'm not really a dog fan right now. I don't even know of any local pet stores with hamsters but maybe the feed store in town will swap me even up, two Shepherds for a box of ducklings. Failing that, I may just go visit that guy at the new Chinese restaurant in town and see if his cash offer on them is still good.

And thanks to Bob for the pic. Sigh.

Pride goeth before a fail

Yesterday I decided to take a break in my never-ending battle with Belle and her constant escapes from the dog pen. Yesterday, I figured that I'd do better to just replace the gate on my front deck that she also breaches, and if I could keep her on the deck at least, that'd be a partial victory right there. I'm not asking much--I just want to be able to put this one dog in an outside enclosure and not have her go walkabout in the neighborhood.

And I'm not spending money on an electric fence for this dog. I can bring her around without doing that. I'm smarter than she is and I've been working with Shepherds for a long time. I WILL win.

So I replaced the baby gate across my deck stairs--which was really more of an "honor system" gate but one sufficient to contain the last two Shepherds--with full-sized wodden shipping pallet that's three feet wide and four feet tall. It weighs about 40lbs. and placed across the top of the stairs, I knew right away that it'd be more than enough to keep Miss Urban Explorer on the deck.

Pleased with myself, I went back in the house to get a beer, but I had barely opened the refrigerator before I heard my crazy cat neighbor yelling that my dog was in his yard again.

How. The. Hell? In just thirty seconds, she'd figured out how to move the pallet and she was gone.

And to make it worse, I opened my back kitchen sliding door to go out and call her back, and Thing #2, Audie Murphy, bolted out and headed for Cat-mandu next door as well.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. That dog, unlike his female sidekick, doesn't come back when he's on a hunt.

So I yelled for Belle, and she came trotting back happily through the hedge. I put her back in the house and set off in pursuit of the evil one. By this time, crazy cat neighbor was practically having a stroke, but I managed to recover Murphy fairly easily this time with my now-standard method of just driving down the road past the cat neighbor's house and waiting for him to see me and chase me. (Murphy, not the cat neighbor.) I let him chase me for about a block, and then when he's completely forgotten that I'm the one chasing him, I stop and let him jump in the truck and we go home.

I spent a bit more time securing the pallet gate better, and this time, I'm sure that I've got her blocked in, at least on the deck.

No damn German Shepherd is gonna outsmart me. Nope. Not gonna happen. Not again, anyway.

My Morning Hell

Mornings. Such a peaceful, tranquil time.

Well maybe for non-dog owners, or at least those not "blessed" with Murphy and Belle.

Take yesterday morning. The alarm goes off, and before I can even reach over to switch it off, Belle is next to my bed, gleefully swatting me in the face with her paw--the huge paw with the non-retractable claws.

Murphy gets up a little slower, and typically Belle goes over to mess with him next, leading to the day's first bit of dog scrapping as Murph, not a morning dog, to be sure, lets her know with a growl and a light nip or two that her attentions aren't appreciated. She doesn't quit though, and before long, the two will be going round and round, grappling at each other, or else he'll be chasing her out into the dark house, knocking things over as they go.

Shoulda just got hamsters, I'm thinking. Hamsters would be sleeping quietly right now.

I get up, and they rush to the back door and line up, eager to go out into the dog run. I toss them out and set about grabbing some coffee and perusing the night's news.

Normally, they take care of business in short order because they both live for what comes next: breakfast. When I hear them on the back steps, I go open the door again, standing aside as I do because I know that 150+ lbs of Shepherd is going to be bolting for the kitchen like a couple of those bulls in Pamplona because they know that their bowls have been filled while they were out.

Want to see some truly confused and anguished looks of hurt and betrayal? Just don't put any food in their bowls while they're out.

Well yesterday morning was an exception to the last parts of this ritual, as Murphy, out in the pen, began loudly barking into the darkness. I knew from the bark that he'd detected some other creature out in the woods beyond the fenced boundary of the run, and he was doing his guard dog thing, letting both the creature and me know that he knew of it's presence and was ready to do battle.

Or maybe he was just telling every neighbor for half a mile that it was four AM. He's nothing if not thoughtful like that sometimes.

I go back to the door to pull them back in and what comes to the door? One dog. Just Murphy comes. Belle is...well that's the question for the moment, because she's sure not in the pen. I grab a show and walk out there, and sure enough, "Little X" has dug another bolt hole under the fence just adjacent to the last one, which I'd filled with big rocks not a week ago. She's gone.

Did I mention that we've still got a drizzly rain and fog thing going on?

I put Murphy on hold and go to the kitchen door. Opening that, with whispered apologies to any neighbors still asleep, I call for Belle. Since she's apparently a ways off out in the fog-shrouded woods, I ave to call a few times, each time raising the volumes, until I hear something running through the underbrush towards me. Yep, that's my little mud-covered Houdini, soaking wet, big grin on her face, and proud of herself for pursuing whatever it was in the woods off into the next zip code before getting the recall. I bring her in and trash another bath towel cleaning her up a bit, and then I bring Murphy in and hand them their bowls. Damn dogs.

I suspect that it's because of stuff like this that someone periodically swipes the "for sale" sign off of a nearby vacant lot and puts it in front of my house.

Sigh.

But this morning? No alarm this morning. No work to be at. This was my "sleep in" morning, which
really means that I get to stay in my bed, unmolested, until the first rays of daylight creep in at about 0714 hours, at which point, both of them come stand next to my bed and begin licking at my face and batting at my head with their huge paws...the ones with the non-retractable claws.

Definitely gonna be hamsters the next time I feel the need to have a pet.

"You are SO lucky to have us!"

More wonderful dog antics

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a floor lamp from Wally World, and after getting it home, realized that I actually didn't need it. So it stayed in it's box, and I was debating whether to bring it back or keep it (or give it to someone as a faily lame Cristmas gift), and in the meantime, it's been doing double duty as a "blocking item" to keep Belle out of my big puffy leather chair in my living room. Belle loves to nap in that chair, but leather furniture and dog claws don't mix, so I usually set something in the chair to deny her access to it.

Well this morning, I saw a bunch of paper shreds at the base of the chair, and sure enough, the corner of the lamp box had been chewed off. Apparently *someone* decided that it might be a good idea to try to pull the box our of *her* chair, and in the process of trying and failing, she nibbled off the corner of the box.

I guess that it's not going back to the store now. (I wonder who has a birthday coming up who might like a lamp?)

Seems to me that the reason that I got a second dog in the first place was to keep the first dog out of trouble. By and large, it's worked, but how do I keep the second dog out of trouble? And don't say a third dog.

And for what it's worth, I've pretty much concluded that Belle was solely responsble for the cocoa incident last night as well. At least she was the only one with cocoa on her muzzle and chocolate on her breath, and the box was torn up by her rug, not Murphy's.

Anyone want a really cute female GSD?

"Haters gonna hate!"


Additional: I get home this evening and everything that I'd put in the chair to keep Belle out was on the floor...and the chair was still warm. Looks like Miss Memphis Belle has definitely set her sights on my chair as her preferred nap spot in my absence.

I'm going to win this one though. Not sure how, but I'm going to win.

Morning Shenanigans--The Murph Strikes Back

So it's morning. I put the dogs out in the run for a bit. I go back into the kitchen and fill the dog bowls with food, and after a suitable time, I go back to the door to let them in.

There's only one dog there. Belle has gone over the fence yet again.

So I let Murphy in, and I give a shout for Belle, knowing that she will just come to the kitchen patio door to get back in. Murphy and I walk into the kitchen, and sure enough, Belle is already at the patio door, waiting.

Murphy, the eternal opportunist, takes one look at Belle on the other side of the door, and then he walks over to HER bowl and begins eating her breakfast right in front of her. And yes, it was deliberate; he had to walk several feet past his own dish to get to hers.

Belle. Goes. Insane.

I wish that I could have gotten pics or video of Belle, up on her hind legs, banging on the window with her front paws while barking dog curses at Murphy.

Needless to say, a bit of canine finessing was required as I booted him back to his own food and brought her in, careful to ensure that she didn't rush over and give Murphy the tune-up that he had coming. Belle takes her food very seriously indeed.

But the crisis moment passed. Belle came in, stared daggers at Murphy, then went to her bowl to eat what was left of her breakfast while hopefully realizing that had she been at the right door at the right time instead of leaving the run, she'd have been able to come in and get her food before someone else took it.

And yes, I did give her a bit extra to make up for what Murphy took.

And now that breakfast is over, they're out on the deck, playing nice together, with the incident apparently forgotten.

Dogs...

A Dog Day Morning.

Every now and again, I screw up like I did this past weekend and I forget to turn my alarm clock off.

Normally, I have to get up at 0330 for work. But this past week-end, I was tired after getting home after my last day at work and I forgot to turn the alarm off. No surprise, it went off as programmed at 0330 on a day that I did not have to get up.

Of course first there were those few seconds when I work up thinking that I did have to go to work. There was the requisite groan and the curse and I was about half way out of bed before it dawned on me that this was my day off, accompanied by that sweet realization I could sleep in as long as I wanted. I was still smiling as I switched the alarm off and began to lay back down...

Cue the cattle.

Murphy and Belle both run up to the side of my bed, ready to start the day. You see, they don't understand things like "days off" and "accidental alarm"--they just want two things that they're used to when they hear that sound:

Murphy: "Outside, outside, outside..."
Belle: "Food, food, food..."

Me: "Sorry guys--false alarm. Go back to bed.

Out, out, out!
Food! Food! Food!"

No, dogs! It's Sunday morning. We sleep in on Sunday mornings. Go lay down.

"Out! Out! Out!"
"Food! Food! Food!"

And now Belle is reaching across my bed to swat me with her paw while Murphy is standing beside her and vocalizing his demand with an oscillating growl. This shit is not gonna quit until I do something. A swipe with a pillow takes Belle out, but Murphy is more experienced and he just jumps back and barks at me from the far corner of the room. The pillow is thrown towards the noise but misses.

Out! Out! Out!
Food! Food! Food!
GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!

Hamsters would not be doing this to me...just saying.

Look, mutts... This stops now! I'm the Boss! You're the dogs! ENOUGH!

Out...?
Food...?

So a compromise was reached. I got up. Two dogs were put outside. But when they came back in a couple of minutes later, the house lights were not on, and there was no food in the kitchen. Instead, they were directed back to bed, and, having had their morning run around their pen, they accepted this and laid back down.

Thank God.

Of course they were both back in at seven to let me know that the sun was kind of coming up, and Sunday or no, it was time to feed the dogs and let them out onto the deck to commence barking at the neighbors, at least until they get bored and scratch to come back inside and go back to bed for the day at around 0730 or so.

Assdogs.

"This is definitely NOT four-star service..."

Woken by the Belle

It's morning again.

How do I know? Because at the first hint of the dawn, Miss Memphis Belle gets up from her dog bed, gently glides over to the side of my bed, then leaps up, plants her front paws on my bed, and commences to lick my face. When I push her away, she begins batting at me (inevitably striking me in the face) and making her happy "Ar, ar, ar, ar, ar....." noise that is normally cute but when you're half asleep and planning to sleep in, it's like fingernails on a blackboard combined with an air raid siren.

A loud "NO!" and a good shove gets her to stop and she goes back to her dog bed, but a minute or two later, the first time that I so much as turn my head to look at the clock, she gets up, runs over, and starts it all over again. This continues until I finally get up.

Meanwhile, on his dog bed, Murphy is still comfortably curled up, snickering.

So I get up, let the dogs out, put their breakfast in their dishes, let them in (standing back from the doorway to avoid the pre-breakfast stampede) and then they gobble their food and GO BACK TO BED!

Now I'm the only one in the house that's still up and awake, and I'm the only one that really planned to sleep in until a reasonably decadent time. These two idiots, on the other hand, will sleep until dinnertime.

All I'm saying is that hamsters don't do this sort of stuff every morning.

And a Good Morning to all of you, too!

Oh, what a morning.

To start with, it's pouring down rain outside, but an e-mail exchange that I've been having with a fellow M1 fan had me rooting through old boxes of gun parts before the sun came up, looking for a misplaced box of Garand parts, which I eventually found. To my surprise, I have more spares than I thought, which is good, because it looks like I'll have an interesting new project to start work on shortly...stay tuned.

Then it was time to put the dogs out. Belle will go out and happily romp in the rain, but if it's even damp outside, Murphy has to be bodily shoved off of the porch to go do his dog business. This is funny when you consider that he's the enthusiastic swimmer and she's petrified of the water.

Next came breakfast and a morning movie that I'll be shaking my head over all day...the 1966 classic "Billy The Kid Versus Dracula." Yeah, they really went there. Chuck Courtney played Billy and John Carradine, father of actors Keith and David, played the vampire. (Carradine had played Dracula in earlier films, House of Frankenstein (1944) and House of Dracula (1945)). Melinda Plowman played Betty, the girl that Billy fought to save from Dracula.

William Bonney was a crack pistolero, but bullets don't stop the undead, as both he, then the sheriff, came to find out. So what does Billy do to stop the immortal Count?



Yep. When all else fails, throw the empty pistol and knock him out.

The whole movie can be found on-line for free of you want (Amazon Prime and Youtube) and it's mercifully short at 1:14.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to run into town for a bit. Back later.

The second most aggravating thing in the world...

is when you're late to go somewhere and you've misplaced your keys.

The first most aggravating thing in the world is when you're frantically going from room to room in your house looking for those keys, and you're followed every step of the way by two amped-up German Shepherds who have convinced themselves that this is the greatest game ever.

My neighbors might have been wondering why I was yelling "LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!!" on a nice Sunday morning yesterday. On second thought, they've known me and the dogs long enough not to have to wonder.

Why I can't have nice things.

Here they are, Exhibit #1 and Exhibit #2.




First off, a counter-surfing Murphy shatters a pyrex bowl that I was particularly fond of a few weeks back. So blogger Mr. B kindly sends me two replacements and they arrive not long afterwards. Well I put the new yellow one to use for breakfast this morning, and no sooner had I set it aside on my small office table, then Belle came in to get some petting and swept it off the table with her wagging tail, reducing it to fragments. I'd used it twice.

And how can you even get mad at a dog who breaks your stuff while trying to show you how much she loves you?

Damn dogs.

Dog Behavior.

So yesterday, I'm watching a movie and we're right at the climax at the end. Hero Joel McCrea is going to save soiled dove heroine Yvonne DeCarlo from the villain, and he strides up and forcefully knocks on the villain's door.

Belle and Murphy go positively bonkers, running in from where they'd been sleeping and throwing themselved against the patio door while barking their fool heads off. They'd convinced themselves that someone was outside knocking on our door and there was no telling them otherwise. I had to stop the movie and let them out so that they could see for themselves.

Idiots.

Then, come bed time, for the last two nights, when the dogs come in from outside and head into my room to sleep, Belle has deliberately walked over and flopped down on Murphy's bed, which is only a couple of feet from her own. This totally befuddles Murphy, who just stands there looking at her and then at me and then back to her again. Both times, I've had to get back up and physically move Belle, who resists by going limp on me, forcing me to scoop her up and toss her in the direction of her own bed. WTF? What's motivating this new behavior after ten months of them sleeping together nicely on their own beds without an issue?

It can't be because they're idiots, can it?

Dogs. Sheesh.

Ode to a red bowl

I should have seen the clue when first presented.

As I stepped out of the shower, a black German Shepherd stood anxiously by the back door, clearly wanting to be released out into the dog run. I let him out, and Belle followed on his heels, this despite both of them having already been out there before breakfast, half an hour ago. Murphy in particular does not like to be out in the run when I'm here in the house, so I should have figured something was up.

But clueless I was, and clueless I remained util I walked into the kitchen and saw the fragments of what had been my favorite red pyrex bowl shattered on the floor.

This bowl was probably my oldest piece of kitchenware. I can't even remember when I didn't have it. And I used it constantly for mixing, and for soups and rice dishes and for my breakfast specialty of potatoes, sausage and onions. It was the perfect size for a good meal or to mix stuff in, and if one could ever come to love kitchenware, I loved that red bowl.

But all things have their time, and the red bowl had it's time over the decades of use that I got from it. I dis not foresee that time ending today, sometime between 7:30 and 8:00am, but then again, I should have known better than to leave it on the counter to wait it's turn in the dishwasher, for there be dragons on the floor in the form of two counter-surfing, thieving German Shepherds, and one of them, Murphy being my chief suspect, pulled that bowl off the counter and onto the floor where it shattered in such a thorough manner that all the king's horses and all the king's men, had they been here, would have just said "screw that" and reached for the broom and dustpan as I did.

And those damned dogs can just stay out there all day.

Sigh.

Ima gonna miss that bowl.

OK, that was impressive.

I'm angry, but still impressed.

I came home tonight to find an empty can of dog food on the floor. Normally I don't feed canned food, but I had two cans left over from back when Murphy was a new dog who wasn't eating dried food, and they were part of our emergency supply. Somehow, one of the cans got knocked off the shelf that it was on, and one of the dogs found it while I was gone. I can't prove which one, but circumstantial evidence points to Murphy. This dog got it's mouth around the can and bit down hard enough to blow the top off the can, at which point that dog ate the contents of that can then took the can into the living room to play with.

Now I'm not happy about the theft and the unauthorized feeding, but I can get over that.
I'm really not happy about the mess that I had to clean up because the can of food apparently did not sit well in the thief's tummy, a tummy that's now used to dried food.

But biting a can of dog food open? OK, that's kinda cool, even if it was wrong. That's some serious bite pressure, right there.

Note to self: Be very glad that these dogs are loyal to me. There's some major destructive power in those jaws and they'll use it to defend me and The Lair if they have to.

Note to self #2: Don't ever piss them off.

If you give a dog a peanut...

The bastards will see where you put the rest of them and scatter a 3lb. bag of them across two rooms of your house when you go out the next day.

"Why yoo blame us? Could have been a burglar!"
"Yeah...a CAT burglar! That's it!"

Assholes.

Awoooooooooo!

Murphy is an inveterate howler when he hears sirens. If the local fire truck at the volunteer fire hall rolls out, Murphy will sing along with it's siren in two-part harmony until it's well out of earshot. It's just what he does

Belle has thus far not joined in on these impromptu sing-a-longs, however, but that changed today when the fire truck siren sounded and Murphy began howling and yowling right along with it. Belle, for the first time, raised her nose to the sky and howled right along with Murphy (and the fire truck). Once more, she was learning from and following her pack-mate, and it would have been really neat had it not been FOUR-O-FREAKING-CLOCK IN THE MORNING and had they not been IN MY BEDROOM!!!

I'm going to the hamster store today and see if they'll do a trade-in deal.

They're really just like kids sometimes

So the dogs have been wrestling and grappling with each other since I got home tonight. It's all play but it's loud and annoying so eventually I take the dogs into the bedroom to lie on their dog beds and relax while I indulge in a bit of quiet reading. Murphy lays down on his bed like a good dog, but Belle wants more so she walks over and begins poking and prodding Murphy on his bed.

"Belle," I announce, "we don't fight on the beds. You need to be like Murphy there and chill."

Oo course, no sooner do I say the words than Murphy reaches up and grabs Belle by the neck while she's looking at me, and it's on like a furry UFC match in the bedroom.

Sigh. Just like kids. Like freaking A.D.D kids.

Hatin' on the Dogs at 4AM

With a fair bit of whining and pacing, Belle managed to wake me up a four o-freaking-clock in the morning. Thinking that she was under the weather again and not wanting to clean up another mess, I quickly got up and let her outside in the pouring rain, followed by Murphy naturally, only to watch her just run over to the drainage ditch and start drinking the water flowing therein.

Really? So because someone was thirsty, I'm up and two dogs are outside in the mud and the rain getting wet and dirty? Belle, this is not a "wake the Boss up" sort of emergency.

So I brought the two soaked dogs with muddy paws back in, and then I went into the kitchen and refilled their water bowl. Then, since I was up, I checked my e-mail, with a contented Belle lying beside me in my office. A few minutes later, however, I realized that I only had ONE dog in my office. Where was the other one?

Oh, no.

Knowing Murphy like I do, I rushed into my bedroom, and sure enough, there was the other wet dog with muddy paws UP ON MY BED, lying every so comfortably on my formerly clean, dry sheets with his big wet head on my pillow.

My apology to any neighbors who might have been awakened by the obscenity-laden screaming that followed.

So there's my day off to that start. How's your day going?

My day...

Up and out and off to the leg doc to begin the process of having a new leg made. Maybe in a couple of weeks, I'll actually be able to walk around the block again. Yay!

Then it was a stop at the gun range to test a couple of loads out. Verdict: 8.5 grains of Unique under a 255gr. cast lead Keith bullet gives me about 850fps and doesn't work the brass or beat the gun, and they hit just high of point of aim at 20 yards consistently. The only falling plate out of 24 that I missed was my fault, and the load is a keeper. Likewise, 16.5 grains of Accurate #9 throws a 210 grain jacketed soft-point .41 Magnum bullet at about 1,400fps and they hit the dueling tree spinners hard enough to bounce them right back to my side of the tree again. I like this load a lot, too.

Then it was back into the other doctor to deal with the bronchitis. Quick test: How do you know that you're in a doctor's office in West Virginia?
Why you look at the magazine rack in the lobby!

American Rifleman magazine, front and center. Murica!

I got not one, not two but THREE breathing treatments and some nifty new prescriptions, and then I went out to the parking lot and spotted this glorious testament to iberal tolerance for others:

Let's see...a Gore sticker, a Che sticker, a vegetarian sticker and at least three calling people that she disagrees with "haters". Yep, sounds like we've got a liberal here. All that's missing is a swipe at Christians, but that's probably on the front underneath the "rainbow" license plate that I didn't bother photographing.

Then it was back home for a nice rest dog-a-palooza. I walked in the door and got hit by both Shepherds at once, jumping on me and begging to go outside. So I put them out in their run and then walked into the kitchen and realized that they'd had a field day while I was gone, taking stuff off the counters (Really dogs? Sour cream?! You guys really ate the sour cream?) and ripping into an old bag of dog food in the back of the pantry. Then of course Belle made her first break out of the pen in a week by somehow moving a large log that I had blocking one of her old bolt-holes, and when I summoned her back in, she jumped on me again and hit my nice clean khaki pants with a big muddy paw-smack. Not to be out-done, Murphy ran into the kitchen like a goon-dog and upended the communal water dish all over the floor, so as of this writing, they are both out on the front deck and may just stay there until I clean up their mess and calm down, which at this rate, could be sometime next week. Ass-dogs.

"We wuv yoo!"

Yeah, you two suck.

Aaarrrgghhh!

The other day, I found another one of Belle's bolt-holes under the fence and blocked it. I'd been congratulating myself ever since, and she hadn't gotten out in three days so I must have solved the problem, right?

Wrong.

Today, because I had something to do that took the whole day, I rewarded myself by stopping at a great NY-style pizza place and getting a pizza for dinner. This is a rare treat for me, indeed. And to ensure that I could eat my pizza in peace, I put the dogs out in their run before sitting down to enjoy it.

Two slices into heaven though, I heard my crazy cat neighbor lady calling me outside. I went to the door and she told me that my dog--"the one that isn't Murphy"--was loose and running around, obviously via yet another new hole. Well I stepped out and called Belle and she came running right to me and went back in the house while I checked with the crazy cat neighbor to see if anything bad had happened. Fortunately the CCN also reported that Belle didn't seem interested in her cats at all, but she did say that when she tried to corral Belle for me, Belle growled at her and bared her teeth. (My gentle, sweet Belle? Acting like a watchdog? Good girl!!)

So I apologized for that, and the CCN actually had no problem with it since Belle was just defending herself and her turf, and then I excused myself to go back inside to finish my...Oh, HELL NO! Belle was already hard at work on her second slice of my pizza when I got in there.

Medical bills I can handle.
Dogs on my furniture I can deal with provided that it stops soon.
The holes under the fence...we'll work through this too.
But I swear by all that's holy in eleven religions that if she ever nabs my pizza again, it's back to the pound for a refund!

"Honest, I was gonna leave you that last slice."

Hamsters, shoulda got two.