Saturday, August 11, 2007

A spoiled puppy and a sour daughter

Mocha, our chocolate lab puppy, has 35 toys. I just counted them. She also has two brushes, a car safety harness, two leashes, a crate, a dog pillow, four different varieties of treats, two different kinds of shampoo, and three food/water dishes. We have a problem.

You see, these days Mom has been buying dog toys on the internet like it's going out of style. Just about every day, the FedEx truck pulls up with another box from some online pet store which Mom has ordered. The first several times, Brian and I thought, "Unnecessary, sure, but harmless." The several times after that, Brian asked Mom to please stop buying things for Mocha because she doesn't need any more. The several times after that, Mom started lying to Brian about the fact that the toy Mocha was prancing around with was new (apparently either forgetting that I was home when the packages arrived or thinking I wouldn't tell Brian the truth). We have a problem. On top of Mom's decreasing financial savvy and recent tendency to forgo truth-telling, Brian thinks Mocha is going to develop canine ADD because every time she walks into a room, there are at least ten toys there. Ha.

And now she's home (Mom and Brian were away visiting Grandpa). She walked in the computer room and asked what I was doing. Having opened another tab when I heard her coming, I replied that I was checking my email. She took one look at the computer screen with my email log-in page and said, "No you're not; you're writing things about me." Then she walked into the hallway, stuck her rear end out in my direction, and let loose a big one (thanks, Aricept). This woman is not my mother.

I knew there was a reason I always wait until everyone is asleep before I blog. I welcome your comments and thank you for stopping by.

6 comments:

flintysooner said...

Hi Kelsi,

That compulsion is new to me and certainly interesting. 35 toys - really impressive. Good thing it wasn't diamond rings.

Dad never really understood about the Internet. When addresses first began being publicized on TV he would say "There's another one of those dot coms." He never could quite understand it.

His flatulence he always thought originated from me.

Lori1955 said...

I gotta say that turning her rear to you and letting one loose is kinda funny. Come on now, you gotta laugh.

Anonymous said...

Kelsi,

We've got so much in common reading your blog. I'm taking care of my Dad who has EOAD at 57. Please email me so we can talk, I think we have so many things to share!

lindsey.van.klei@co.hennepin.mn.us

Thanks, I look forward to hearing from you. It's such a breath of fresh air to see someone close to my age dealing with this horrid disease.

Deb said...

Oh Miss Kelsi, reading your comment reminded me of one of the lighter moments in my grandmother's illness. She too had this beautiful gift for flatulance on command. But throughout grandma's illness, she was convinced it was the Russians. She wouldn't talk on the phone too long because the Russians were tapping the lines. The Russians were giving her gas. And if it wasn't the Russians, it was the Germans. Now I lived in a predominantly Russian Orthodox Jew neighborhood. Luckily my neighbors understood and never took it personally. :)

flintysooner said...

The Russians! That's funny!

nancy said...

kelsi,
i am sorry to hear about your mom's spending flurry. i too would be glad it's not more expensive gifts. i have heard that is not uncommon, fortunately my dad never did that.

as for the gas issue, i had to chuckle. my dad always denies it and blames it on me!