Nothing to Write About

I just complained to hubby dearest that I had nothing to write about, because who wants to hear about what I'm thinking about?

No one, that's who. But I'm writing it anyway so suck it.

I mean, who wants to hear about how the dog's incessant, unfounded whining to go outside in this crazy heat is driving me crazy, as is his nonstop private parts licking, and how the cat won't stop stealing his bed which just leads to more whining.

I don't even want to hear about that stuff.

And who wants to hear about how I REALLY want to go buy some new clothes because I am so majorly over the two skirts, one pair of yoga pants and two shirts I have that are actually suitable to wear in public (and the yoga pants only make the list because by public I mean at prenatal yoga class). Or how I am a teensy bit concerned that the non-maternity tops I've been stretching over my belly are actually now ruined for good. Also, I am tired of flip flops and low-heeled sandals.

No one except maybe occasionally me wants to hear about my made up schedule of wake up, take homeopathic tabs, get up, maybe go on a walk, putter around, maybe make smoothies while hubster gets ready for work, take my iron and orange juice, say goodbye to hubster, explain to the dog that he doesn't need to lie next to the door because hubster isn't coming home in twenty minutes, clean up the smoothie-making materials, drink said smoothie, fill up water bottle, play a game on the computer, make some toast and refill water bottle, check email and other necessary Web sites, check the pet's water bowls, pee (for what will seem like the tenth time already), shuffle around papers on the table and counter, balance checkbook, glance at the clock to see if it is time for lunch, realize it isn't and try to think of something to write on this blog...

Yawn. Maybe a nap will help wile away the hours.

One good thing about today is that it is Thursday, so hubster won't have to go into the office tomorrow and I will have someone around to talk to who actually speaks English, rather than trying to get some sort of meaningful conversation out of the furry, four-legged members of our family.

Fences are Good Neighbors

It should be known that I love animals. I'm a softy for them and am constantly thinking of new ways to convince my husband that we can adopt just one more cat and/or dog. Usually, it's the cat and/or dog with heart trouble or three legs or is 90 percent blind ("but I can help them find what they need!").

So...

My neighbor is an ass. Quite honestly. Almost so much he is a donkey. Or a burro (although, truth be told, I kind of want a donkey-slash-burro and should maybe not say such mean things about those kind, gentle animals). But we did build an entire fence just to not have to be subjected to the audio and visual yickiness from next door.

He has roommates (which I thought didn't happen past the age of 30) and they throw loud parties and leave their empties on the back porch (again, not past 30?). One of the old roommates had a dog - a female German Shepherd - who was made to stay outside, like, all the time.

Eventually roommate #1 goes away. Much rejoicing that there is no longer a sad, lonely puppy crying next to my house.

But along comes new roommate. New roommate ALSO brings with him a dog, this time a long-haired little dachshund with the sweetest little yip; we'll call her Enid (although her real name is so much more cute). Enid is tied to a stake in the middle of the yard all day long. Sometimes he doesn't bring her in at night, so it turns into 24+ hours that dear, adorable little Enid is staked in the yard (if he doesn't want other dogs in the house, WHY KEEP GETTING DOG-OWNING ROOMMATES?).

Enid yips when people are outside at the house, either leaving in their car or driving into the driveway. They ignore her. Enid yips because she is freakin' bored and has no shelter and has empty food and water bowls. They ignore her.

Enid likes us. We'll go over when no one is there to give her a biscuit or two. We toss her toys back within reach of her tie-out. I cry when someone comes home and I see her get so excited and wag her short little tail so hard it looks like it will launch her into the air, but they only ignore her or she gets a pat and her bowl gets moved out of the hot sun. This literally just happened and is why I'm sitting here angrily banging on the keyboard, sniffling and wiping my eyes).

My dog gets a biscuit every time he actually eats all the food we put into his bowl (it doesn't happen all the time). He gets fresh, cold water every single day. He has a basket of toys on the ground that he knows he can go to at anytime if he wants something to chew on. He has a cat to chase around, He gets a walk almost every single day and gets to take trips to the dog park several times a month.

We should be thanked for being such good pet parents (both have been "socially customized," both have regular vet appointments and are licensed...) and the roommate should not get to have a dog. As it is, we both get to have dogs.

That doesn't seem fair to the dog.

Or to the neighbors, who think they should get to take the dog and let the dog come live with them because they would clearly be much better, loving pet parents.