So yesterday, I’m trying super hard to get into writer mode. I’m sucking bad. Like, really bad. Like reading the same Facebook posts over and over, bad. Sure, I could blame Facebook, or lack of sleep due to the amazing book that kept me up all night. Truth is, our puppy, Pepper, is the number one contributor to my lack of concentration. The little bitch is very demanding, and cute, and impossible to ignore.
When I’m trying to get in a full writing day, I don’t bother to get dressed. Yesterday was no exception. I pulled on my worn out leggings, my ugly but comfy t-shirt, and my long wool sweater to cover my dimply mom butt (you’re welcome, world). Notice I didn’t mention undergarments, because really, who wants to wear a bra if you’re just sitting around in your comfy clothes? Besides, my brain works better when my over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder isn’t cutting off my circulation.
So it comes time to pick up my daughter from school. It’s only a few blocks away and I didn’t have to run any errands, so I thought, why bother to put my bra on? Heck, I didn’t even bother with shoes, just flip-flops, which really, in my opinion, are fine foot attire for any time of year. Then the Sexy Boyfriend says, “Hey! Why don’t you take Pepper with you?” So I do, because she loves riding in the car. I was lazy and didn’t grab her leash, knowing deep in my soul that she’d be a good little girl, follow me to the car, and hop in.
We get to the car and Pepper stops to give me her, YOU JUST MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE look. I think to myself, Oh, shit. And just like that, she’s gone! Gone! Like a streak of white lightening. Down my long, muddy driveway, down the street, and straight into a neighbor’s back yard. I’m still standing by the car! Bra-less, shoe-less — and I have to run after her, through thick, muddy puddles, because I love the little bitch and I don’t want her to die. I have to sprint through the neighborhood, half naked, with my bosoms doing things no person should ever have to see.
I get to my neighbors yard and I can’t see her. So before trespassing into the back of their property, I knock on the door knowing they don’t speak English and I don’t have any idea how I’m going to explain what I’m doing on their front stoop, bra-less and out of breath. They aren’t home, thank God! I run to the back and Pepper is rolling in their flower bed with a look of pure ecstasy on her cute little puppy face. I get closer, and she’s covered, head to tail, in mud, bark, and chunks of some unknown, goopy substance.
I snatch her just before she dashes off again and get splashed with her new mud-bath concoction. Needless to say, I’m fuming. Pepper’s pissed because I ruined her beauty treatment. Her ears are back, she looks like a drowned rat, smells like a dead fish. I’m late to pick up my daughter, I stink, and I’m covered in mystery mud.
Now, Pepper is mad at me. At ME! – because she had to have a real bath and we put her collar back on. She hates her collar. She pouts for days when we make her wear it. So to punish me, she decides that my pillow is now her pillow. Every time I’m not looking, she sneaks into my room and uses my sleeping space to try and rub her collar off.
I don’t have proof, but I’m pretty sure she attacked me in my sleep last night. I remember being woken by a jab to my side and the sharp rake of claws down my leg.
Of course, that could’ve been Sexy Boyfriend’s toenails.
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