Tales of Wit and Charm…

This morning killed me.  I got out of bed, had a shower and sat on the couch with a cup of coffee. Daisy jumped up, snuggled her way into my lap and promptly went to sleep.  She was so fucking adorable, that for just one moment, I wanted to throw a baby dress on her and rock her to sleep while singing lullabies.

But I didn’t. Instead I remembered what a pain in the ass she had been last night.

Daisy is very well behaved off a leash.  In fact, I don’t typically put on her leash until we’re crossing a main street.  She’s too lazy to run away, which is good since I’m too lazy to run after her.  I’ve never had a problem with this until last night.

We were walking past the bus stop, when she decided she’s had enough of this walking bullshit and tried to climb the stairs to the bus.  I didn’t know what to do; the woman who was trying to board the bus didn’t know what to do.  Finally, she picked Daisy up, handed her to me and said, “Looks like your doggy is trying to save the environment by taking mass transportation.” I laughed as I took Daisy from her. This woman obviously underestimates the laziness that is a pug.  Daisy just wanted to hitch a free ride so she didn’t have to walk in the heat.  And really, can you blame her?

Michael from Calanan Photography asked me to participate in his photo series “This is Their Place.” Truthfully I think he wanted just Daisy Dog, but knew I’d have to drive her so he kindly included me. Daisy and I had a nice sit down and discussed our favorite bacon flavored products as well as where in SLC felt like our place. I wanted our place to be the inside of a Shiraz bottle, but realized it might be a tight fit so settled for Daisy’s favorite place: Liberty Park, specifically the pond there. You can see the photos and read my essay here.

I’m glad I took part, even if the jerk dragged me out of bed at 8:00 am ON A FUCKING SUNDAY MORNING! For any locals I suggest you sign up for his project. He’s a great photographer and even comes prepared with water for your dog, because sometimes ditzy dog owners I forget those important little things.

Thanks Michael! Don’t be surprised if those photos pop up on my blog about section in the near future.

Rlo, being the good BFF he is, came over to fix my bike today.  I left it out all winter and it needed a lot of tender loving care that only Rlo has the patience for.

Daisy was outside with us, and she started chasing her tail as she often does when she’s excited about something.  Rlo takes one look at her and asks, “Sometime you’re going to have to explain the appeal of being a dog owner.  I don’t get it.”  Now let me just say that Rlo doesn’t hate all dogs, he just hates Daisy.  He’s obviously a horrible person.

I thought about it for a second and came up with the perfect comparison.  “Daisy for me is like Jesus for you.  You don’t understand why I care so much about Daisy, and I sure as hell don’t understand why you care so much about Jesus.”

Rlo shook his head in agreement, and said, “Yeah, at times both keep us from doing things we really want to do.  We always have to stop and think about the consequences.”

“Yup,” I say.  “Daisy and Jesus are practically the same thing.”

I’ve been reluctant to write about Daisy loosing her eye.  My natural coping mechanism is to turn anything the slightest bit painful into a joke–as seen here.

Daisy got hurt a few years ago.  I only have myself to blame.

I was staying in the country with my parents.  My dad doesn’t believe that dogs should live indoors.  We always had a dog growing up, but it was my dad’s dog to take running and to the farm.  We were never allowed to bring the dog indoors.  At the time this didn’t really bother me.  I didn’t know anything different.  In fact I grew up not really liking dogs. I remember avoiding a friend’s house because she had an inside dog.  I couldn’t even sit down on her couch because the thought of dog hair freaked me out.  I can’t help but laugh at how silly I was.  Now, not only does Daisy hair cover nearly everything I own, but I also let her sleep in my bed.  I think a shiver just went up my dad’s spine.

My dad doesn’t allow Daisy to run rampant through his house, like she does at mine.  It’s his house so I respect his wishes.  When we visit Daisy has to stay in my old bedroom.  Which may have something to do with the fact I rarely visit home, that and the fact the closest Starbucks is over an hour away.  (Insert gasping sounds here.)

This particular day I let Daisy outside while I made a quick phone call.  Normally I would go outside with her.  The yard is not fenced and it’s the country.  Who knows what could happen.  Some farmer may steal my unsuspecting pug and turn her into a farm cat, or worse yet an outdoor dog.

While on the phone I heard a sound that I will never forget.  It was the sound of pain.  I dropped the phone and ran outside.  There I found Daisy with a bulging eye too disgusting to describe. My best guess is my dad’s lab pushed her away with his paw and it caught her eye just right.

After two expensive surgeries my girl was left with one eye.  And this left me with a broken heart. Even now, writing about it, I feel sick inside and completely inadequate.  I let my girl lose a fucking eye.  If I can’t keep my pug safe, what makes me think I could someday be a good mother?

Yes she’s just a dog.  But that dog is my baby.

I’ve received quite a few emails asking me to post a vlog of Daisy.  This is not an easy task.  The only time Daisy has ever been interested in my computer is when Miss Kiesha sent me this pug screen saver.  I had to start putting my laptop away after she saw that, rather than leaving it on the floor.  The MacBook humping was getting a little out-of-control.  Her, for once.  Not me.

Internet I tried my hardest, but Daisy wasn’t feeling it.  I’ll try again another time.  Perhaps after I cover my computer screen in peanut butter, or bacon bits.  Here’s my one-eyed little bitch.

If that’s not enough I have a couple of video clips of her on You Tube here and here.

Cutting Daisy dog’s nails is a constant battle–one that I continually lose.

Last night, in a brave move, I picked up the nail clippers and called her name. She took one look at me and ran. By the time I put the clippers down she was long gone. My apartment isn’t very large so it should only take a few minutes to find her, NOT FORTY FIVE MINUTES! I looked in all her usual hiding spots but nothing.

Knowing there was no way she could get outside I decided to get some reading done and she’d surface soon enough. I sat down on the couch and went to grab my blanket to snuggle up and found this:

She looked so cute I not only skipped clipping her disgustingly long nails, but I let her have the blanket.