Wednesday, January 28, 2015

8 Obvious Reasons Why Dogs Sit on Cats [With BONUS Video]

If you've lived dangerously* - as I have - perhaps you've witnessed it: a dog backing up to a cat and resting his entire backside (usually with tail in the upright position, thereby, fully exposing the butthole) directly over the cat's face. Or, if his aim is off (as my dogs' usually is, because they're corgis, and have limited clearance between their butts and the floor), on the flat part of the cat's side, as if sitting on a back-less futon.

It's quite a sight to behold, actually. Not so much the act of sitting on the cat, but that, in many cases, the cat either a) seems to enjoy it, or b) is momentarily paralyzed from shock, and therefore, just lies there motionless, and allows you to take several photos and/or video.

Now, I realize many of you haven't lived as dangerously* as I, which is why I've curated this collection of my own photos**, plus a compilation video (of someone else's dogs and cats). I think you'll find it (the collection) educational.

* By dangerously, I mean, there's a flock*** of pets in my house. 
*** Flock = at least 3 broken vacuums in 4 years.
** Previously published.

What? Is there something stuck on my fur?

Yeah, I'm thinking that's gonna leave a skid mark. 

Speaking of educational, it occurred to me a few hours ago, that there must be a good reason why dogs get the urge to just sit on a cat. I doubt anyone has ever done a scientific study on that, though (who'd fund one?), so I didn't bother wasting my time on Google. I was, however - using personal anecdotal evidence - able to brainstorm a few reasons of my own. They all seemed obvious, I might add. See if you agree.

8 Reasons Why Dogs Sit on Cats
  1. to dominate them
  2. to humiliate them
  3. to retaliate against them
  4. they think it's funny
  5. they're emotionally immature (might be redundant)
  6. chairs are too hard against their hard dog buns
  7. they thought you gave the command, "sit on a cat," when you actually mumbled, "go to your mat"
  8. they heard your command perfectly, but sat on the cat because it was softer than their mat. 
So? Think I'm in the ballpark? Can you think of any other reason(s)? Does anyone want to sponsor a scientific study? 

Wait! Before you decide whether to sponsor the study, check out this (hilarious) video compilation!
P.S. Do not be alarmed. Sometimes the cat sits on the dog, too. Those instances would NOT be included in the study.




So, how about now? Think I should set up crowdsourcing to fund a study? Yeah, me neither.

Might as well check for bedbugs while I'm down here...

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

5 Ways My No-good, Broken Dishwasher Triggered a Happiness Windfall for My Dogs

My dishwasher quit working earlier this month. Naturally, it outed its state of malfunction just after I'd carefully crammed in the last possible dirty dish. (Dear dishwasher makers: Maybe think about adding a "breakdown imminent, do not load" warning chime to future models? Because the current system of "let's let her fill it all the way up and see if she cries when it doesn't start" just isn't cutting it. Thanks for listening.)



It stayed broken for nearly two weeks, because a) there is a shortage of "authorized brand A" service providers in every zip code in America, which means one will wait at least three business days (so sorry your appliance broke down on a Thursday before a holiday weekend) before the initial service call, b) the part that broke (99% of all appliance parts) is not in the van and must be ordered, and c) a second service call must be scheduled (refer to "a" above for details).



I hate washing dishes by hand. Hate, as in I'd rather set them on fire and run. I don't know why, and - for the love of dogs - I can't help the way I was born! (Hint: No judging!)




Anyway, thanks to my family's help, no fires were set and we all managed to eat without running out of plates and utensils. (Let's hear it for overcoming first world problems! ahem) The funny thing is - about three days in - I realized the change in routine was affecting Jon Farleigh and Dewi, And, if given the choice, they would've had me doing the dishes, over the dishwasher, forever. 



Because, all of this:

5 Ways My No-good, Broken Dishwasher Triggered a Happiness Windfall for My Dogs

1. It forced me to spend more time in the kitchen, near the pantry, where the corgi (and kitty) snacks are kept. For the record, I would not have given them the extra treats had they not looked so dang cute/desperate in my moments of weakness.


Might I trouble you for a snack?


Why, yes, I'm a fan of snacks. Snacks are great!


I might only have 23 more minutes to live unless you get me a snack.


I've chewed up a stool, slippers, a briefcase, a chair and all the USB chargers; don't make me chew up a pantry door, too. 

2. I repeat, it forced me to spend more time in the kitchen, and therefore, less time typing/surfing the net/not paying attention to corgis at the office computer. Apparently, I distract easily when performing menial kitchen labor.


Excuse me, I'm over here! Do I need to tap dance, too?
(Sure wish the dishwasher would break down.)

3. A friendly service technician (named John) got to come over and play with the dogs. And by that, I mean - in order to be heard over the playing - I had to yell things like:

  • "Jon, stop jumping! Oh, oops (Mr. service tech John), my dog's name is Jon too; just ignore me if you hear it!"
  • "I'm so sorry, they're just really happy to see you!"
  • "Hey, come on in! They love people; they're just loud! Jonny, stop the barking!"
  • "His favorite game is fetch; he's just trying to get you to toss the rope!" 

Yeah, turns out, corgi happiness necessitates yelling at (and confusing the heck out of) service techs named John.


OMG! It's the dishwasher fixer!


Maaaaaa! Mr. John fix-it man is AT. THE. DOOR!

4. To avoid washing dishes, we ate more pizza (which technically doesn't even require a plate). It so happens that some members of my family don't like the crust. Others LOVE it - especially with soggy bite marks around the edges. Those family members are furry dwarfs named Jon Farleigh and Dewi. It's OK, though; the carb-loading "fueled" them for their play dates with service tech John. 


No, I didn't run over the pizza with the car. This is NOT pizza (it's dried lamb lung for dogs☺). But these ARE the faces the dogs made when we ate the pizza (on paper plates). 

5. I had no choice but to use the dogs as substitute pot-scrubber cycles. It's just that when one is forced to wash dishes by hand, one can use a little help loosening cooked-on food particles, like smashed pot roast veggies and gravy, or fried egg, for example. I'm telling you, dog spit is nearly as effective as Cascade; it just doesn't smell as nice. 



Note: SIMULATED pot-scrubber cycle. That's actually dog food on doggy plates. I didn't film them licking my plate. Gross!

...Then, on the 13th day, the dirty-dish doggy jubilee was over. I guess I'm glad. I mean, why wouldn't I be glad? Could there be anything worse than being forced to spend more time in one's kitchen washing dishes (with one's dogs, cats, and family) than in front of a glowing computer screen?*

*Of course there is, you sillies! But, blast it to hades, I'd rather count grains of rice than keep washing those dang dishes by hand! Besides, there are plenty of other appliances around here that could break at any minute. Can you imagine what would happen if my washing machine went out, or my microwave? Bye bye, computer! (Talk about a doggy jubilee!)




bebebebebebebebebe

So, have your dogs (or any type of pet) ever benefited from a similar household misfortune? 

Monday, January 5, 2015

Tacky Cardigan With Words on It, Squared: The Ugly Sweater Paradox (and photo fest)

paradox (noun): 3. Any person, thing or situation exhibiting an apparently contradictory nature. dictionary.com




I bought this "ugly" holiday sweater with the words "Let It Snow" on it for Jon Farleigh.
(Hint: That is why this post is a Tacky Cardigan squared. It's a "Tacky Cardigan" about an actual tacky cardigan. And, it has words on it. This achievement, to me, is like another person's completion of a half marathon. Not sure what the equivalent of a full marathon would be, perhaps this post. Anyway...)

I guess - notwithstanding it's in the shape of a dog's torso (vs. human's), which intrinsically detracts from the manufacturer's "ugly holiday sweater" marketing strategy - this sweater is ugly. I mean, I probably wouldn't purchase a similar design for myself, but ugliness is kind of subjective (even where dogs are concerned), you know?

Anyway, let's just assume the sweater - all by itself on a hanger - is ugly. But, look what happens when it's on Jon Farleigh.


Wait, there's more...






So, what do you think, now? Is it (the sweater) still ugly?

Here's my answer:

[represses gurgling noises] Ugly? How the flip can it be ugly when it makes my already-cuddly, floofy, loaf-of-Wonder-bread-shaped, doe-eyed, squishy, pookie-bear Jon Farleigh even more adorable than a diapered cherub shooting love arrows off the top of a cottony cloud next to a rainbow shooting out of a baby unicorn in a field of kittens?!

And, therein lies the paradox. But that's just my opinion. ☺

By the way, dog-sized, red buffalo-checked trapper hats aren't ugly (nor dorky) either.


















OK, on three...one, two, SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Look at all the corgi fur exploding out of Jon Farleigh's sweater! Not even *I* realized he was that fluffy! It's killing me! More sweaters, please! For Dewi too! A lumberjack one! And maybe some snow shoes! ☺

But wait, there's even more! While y'all were celebrating, or sleeping in, or something, Jon Farleigh turned FIVE years old on New Year's Day! I can't believe he's five (and that Dewi will also be, in February). Where has the time gone? Here are a few pics from the day (some appeared previously on Facebook).











I purchased the Gingerbeg cookies, personalized bone biscuit and mini-cake from our local Three Dog Bakery. The sock monkey is just for show, and yes, the dogs got steak leftovers from New Year's Eve dinner at Ruth's Chris. Please don't tell them that it probably won't happen again, until maybe 2020, when Jon Farleigh turns 10. 

Happy New Year, everybody! 


Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Two Cats Walk Into a Public Restroom...

Preface: This blog is, to me, like a blank canvas is to an artist - except I use words, and not paint. Also, the artist in my example is an elephant, who uses her trunk to fling random colors in the general direction of the canvas. But it's still art - to her. There was that one day, though, when she (the elephant) didn't feel like using paint anymore, so she just stood there and grunted, while staring at her blank piece of paper. Days went by, with more grunting, and still no desire to fling paint. This would be a really sad story, except that on the 8th, or 78th day, she looked down and saw a brick of charcoal, took it in her massive trunk, and smeared it all over the paper, making a crumbly black mess. It felt good. It was a start. 

My image. After you read this peeing story, click this caption to read another about how I turned burgers into charcoal.

What I'm saying, friends, is that I'd like to strap some charcoal to my trunk and roll all over the keyboard, but all you'd see is *Y" Q(puiznnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnpwy0'76
-9 *$Z+W-[47nW________________Iz[  and I'd have to clean up a great big mess on my end. And I hate cleaning. So instead, I'll just stick to using words. A crumbly black mess of them. Starting right now. ☺

*****

The following story is true, only the species (and respective accoutrements) have been changed to protect the innocent.

Fresh Step ad image via Adweek.com

So, these two cats walked into the public men's room at the highway rest stop, both needing to pee something fierce. The litter boxes for peeing were lined up along a wall on the far end of the room, uncovered, but with high walls, in case of bad aim (no one likes to get sprayed, is all I'm saying). The two cats - not directly acknowledging each other, but making mental note of the fact that they were the only two cats in the room - beat paths to opposing corner boxes. The release was quick, and without conversation. 

The silent "elevator ride" (because everyone knows it's creepy to talk to strangers in an elevator) in the men's room would come to an abrupt halt, however, soon enough.

I should back up a minute and tell you that one of the cats in this story would rather have an invasive dental procedure, without Novocaine, than publicly display, let alone speak about, the deeds that take place in, or around, a toileting receptacle. No, for this cat, it would be better that no one ever admit to doing anything in a rest room - other than rest. Living with the shame of the thought that someone else was imagining him in a bathroom deed  - of any kind - was simply more than he could bear. Which is why what happened next in that public men's room, is of significance. 




"Jiminy Christmas!" declared uninhibited cat, as he stood at the paw-wiping station, directly next to inhibited cat. So inappropriately close, even, that his whiskers were practically tickling the other cat's nose. "I came in here to do one thing, but now, doggone it, I've gotta go do something else!"

Those words  - "now I've gotta do something else" - lay in the space between inhibited cat's ears for seemingly 15 minutes, while he pondered, in horror, whether to say something in response. But, alas, all he could do was stand there and make a weird nodding gesture. Weird, in that he never made eye contact with uninhibited cat, and his head nodding was so slight, that it would've been undetectable to the naked eye. It was as if he had pretended not to hear the cat speaking at all. The cat whose mouth was practically in his ear, and who was staring a hole in the side of his face. 

The ensuing silence was even more awkward, in fact, than if inhibited cat had shouted in reply, "Well, I hope it all comes out okay!" or, "Gee, thanks for sharing!" or, "Lemme get outta here before you stink up the joint!" or "Ewwww, GROSS!" or even, frankly, if he had burst out in full-on laughter, right in uninhibited cat's face. I mean really, what the heck should someone say in response to a total stranger making an announcement that he needs to take a dump?

Eventually, though, uninhibited cat gave up on a reply, turned away and climbed inside one of two enclosed litter boxes, tucked in a ventilated alcove. 

Inhibited cat didn't hang around long enough to hear uninhibited cat's inevitable narrative.  

 ~ The end ~


So, tell me, are your "cats" inhibited? Or, if you can't relate to cats, your dogs? I feel bad for you if they are. I mean, who has time for that tap dance?

By the way, you should wipe the charcoal smear off your nose before returning to whatever it was that you were doing. Just use the pretend baby wipes by the door. ☺

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