Friday, September 28

Overheard (Not That it Will Make a Difference)

You. Dogs. Sit. I said SIT. Meg, Jasmine . . . SIT. Thank you.

There's something we need to discuss. It's not complicated, so hopefully you will understand.

Jasmine--eyes on me.

I don't know what has gotten into you two, but it needs to stop. When I'm standing, I occupy approximately 2 square feet of the floor. STAY OUT OF MY TWO FEET. It's mine. My space.

My legs are a little long . . .

Meg--quit snorting and pay attention.

My legs are a little long, so when I'm walking, I need about 6 square feet of the floor. How about you two monkeys clear a path and stay the hell out of my way?

The next one of you that rams into the back of my legs, trips me, smacks me with their butt--Jasmine, that means you--or blocks my path is getting a one way ticket to the vets office. I'm not bluffing. You will become the vets in-house pet. 24/7 at the vet. That will be your life.

Get out of my space. NOW.


  1. Can you come give my cats a stern talking to? They seem to have the same perception of personal space as your dogs. The hallway is their personal drag way, only when it's dark and I'm stumbling down it.

    (And yeah, it's freaky likenesses. Even better? My degree is Russian Language. Oh, familiar halls of Satterfield :-)

  2. I've tried this. Good luck. Mine are pretty good at not being stepped on because I make it a point to kick them if they're in the way. (Try carrying a load of laundry on one hip and a baby on the other, then tripping over a dog. I do this out of necessity.) But when I sit my feet suddenly become their pillows. Maybe because I'll wiggle my toes to scratch their ears. It's a take and a give.

  3. Jayna--The cat problem was fixed at our house with the introduction of dogs. Lhasa Apsos are particularily talented at making cats disappear.

    Rocking Pony--At least I'm not the only one that kicks dogs all the time. Sometimes it's simply the only way to get from point A to point B without dying. Sadly, it only works on the little one. I could go all Beckham on the fifty-pound bulldog and she wouldn't even flinch.