Theo is still refusing to go out the dog door, even when the other two dogs go right out in front of him. Worse, yesterday Django briefly refused as well. This is wrecking my life. Well, okay, not my whole life, but that part of it that gets wildly irritated by opening doors for dogs. Meanwhile, Okra just sits there and smirks. Nobody can smirk like a Siamese cat.
This morning I woke up too early – if you have to get up at 6:30 four mornings a week, you can pretty much figure that sleeping late on the other three is going to be a no go – and heard someone barfing in the living room or thereabouts. I haven’t figured out who and I haven’t figured out where but when I do (look, I’m using all the questions they teach you in journalism or private eye school. I am like the Nancy Drew of animal barf.) it’s going to be gross. I am therefore not all that motivated to look. With the wisdom of age, I know that if it takes long enough to find, the result will actually be somewhat less gross! Or at least gross in a different way: it is just like a mouse. Cleaning up a freshly dead mouse is horrifying but at least you know it’s done. Cleaning up a mummified mouse is slightly less horrifying but then you have to think about all the time the mouse has been lying around dead in the house. Particularly when the mouse in question was not only mummified but flattened and two dimensional like a sheet of paper when you found him under the hallway rug. But we will not ever, ever think of the days the mouse lay under the rug being stepped on. No. We won’t. At least he was easy to slide into an envelope and mail. Ah, the benefits of procrastination!