Powdered sugar. I think I'd rather deal with the mud.
Posted on 11/16/2015 12:02:20 PM PST by blueunicorn6
I had just walked through the front door when I heard those words that send chills up the spine of every man.
"This is why we can't have anything nice!"
It was my wife. I put the mail on the stairs while I tried to figure out if I could make it back out the front door without her hearing me. I knew I couldn't. The woman can hear what I think, for crying out loud.
Now, I had to determine who did it while I was still unseen. There are always three likely culprits:
1. Me 2. The Boy 3. The dogs.
There are actually three dogs, but they work as a team, so I only count them once.
The Boy had been at school all day, so I counted him out. He is half his Mom, so she has a hard time getting after him anyway.
That left me and the dogs. If it was me, she would probably wait until I was in the room to say anything. I sometimes think she missed her calling. She would have been a great prosecutor.
"Members of the jury.....There! There is the guilty rat that makes it impossible for us to have anything nice!"
Perry Mason would have retired if he would have ever faced her in a courtroom.
I wasn't in the room, so that meant the dogs were in trouble.
She only uses the "This Is Why We Can't Have Anything Nice" accusation when something gets broke or dirty.
I gathered up my courage and went into the family room.
It was the dogs.
The three of them sat there with their ears and heads hanging down looking appropriately repentant. Except the Little One. He was glaring at my wife like Bill Clinton when he looked into the camera and told everyone he didn't have sex with that woman. I immediately knew it was him. He was the guilty one. But what was he guilty of.
I swept the room looking for broken pieces or dirt. There it was....on the couch.....muddy paw prints. Ohhhhh, he was going to get it for that.
I have seen dogs wearing galoshes. It is hilarious. The dog thinks it is some kind of sadistic torture. The put their legs way out when they walk because they aren't sure how big the galoshes are. And the dog always has this look on his face like,
"What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"
Maybe if we'd give them an umbrella to go with the galoshes they might understand it better.
Our dogs don't wear galoshes. They don't wear ties, either. This keeps them out of some of the fancier restaurants, but they can't afford those places anyways. I can't afford those places and I actually make money. OK, the dogs have better table manners than me, but table manners don't pay the bill or tip the waiter. Dogs are horrible tippers. Real cheapskates.
Well, muddy paw prints on the couch. The Girl's paws were clean. The Youngest Brother's paws were clean. The Little Dog's paws were filthy. I waited to hear his alibi.
Yes, he had muddy paws, he explained, but that was all in service of his family. He was, he said, digging a bomb shelter for us. What a rotten little liar. I knew dang well that he had been out in back burying my underwear again. Now it was time to see how the wife would handle this.
She walked back and forth in front of the furry, four-legged fools.
"Oh, how can I be mad at my babies!", she cried, and gave them all a hug.
I figure I'll have the three dogs with me when I tell her that it was me who got dirt on the carpet. But first, I have to go out back and dig up some of my underwear. I'm starting to get a skin burn on my behind.
Where does she fall on the “Hot Crazy matrix”?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKWmFWRVLlU
It’s important to know.
Thanks for the laughs. After the last few days it was needed.
Powdered sugar. I think I'd rather deal with the mud.
“I swept the room looking for broken pieces or dirt. There it was....on the couch.....muddy paw prints. Ohhhhh, he was going to get it for that.”
Ok. So I have a Golden and he tracks mud into the house all the time. He comes in to the house via the family room which is carpeted. Paw prints into the hallway, dining room, steps, hallway, into my bedroom and finally on the bed. But it isn’t the dogs fault. For some reason it is mine.
We got the dog booties. He looks ridiculous in them and he knows the dogs on all sides of the house are laughing at him. He complains he doesn’t have thumbs which is why I put them on him. We decided on the booties after having the carpet cleaned last week. The wife was working, I was sleeping and the dog came into the house by himself. Tracked mud all the way into my bed.
You can never win with a good looking pooch.
Shame! Shame on you for even knowing about such a matrix!
I would never dare to put my wife on such a matrix.
If you stand sideways fifty feet from her, she can shoot the buttons off your shirt and all you’d feel is the breeze from the lead going by.
I’m not about to put her on some matrix and brave bullets again.
Yep. That’s how the dogs looked.
Goldens are great dogs.
I’m not about to put her on some matrix and brave bullets again.
So, what is her Freeper Handle?
You’re welcome. I know what you mean.
“Gutshooter6”
Ouch.
I suspect she posts more to you than here.
Goldens are awesome.
Retarded, but awesome.
Women are getting so dog crazy that it’s frightening. Yesterday I saw a woman tourist in a park in our town lying down with a large Lab between her legs, his front paws on her shoulders, and her arms around the dog. It could have been a porno shot. Her boyfriend or maybe even husband was sitting next to her and looking at his phone and didn’t seem to be bothered or even notice. What is it with Metrosexual men and their women and dogs?
THAT is one priceless face! Hard to be mad for long looking at that mug!
Muddy feet, shredded IRS checks or Ben Franklins, poop on the brand new carpet is all nothing. It just is. Hug your furry kids and cherish every crazy second. Because someday they’ll be gone and you will be willing to give everything you’re ever going to have for just a few more minutes. Just 1 or 2.
I don’t know.....tail envy?
I tried to be a doggie psychiatrist but I failed. All I could get them to do was lay on the couch. None of them would talk.
I put pavers all around the track where my big Sheltie likes to run when he gets excited. Not only do I no longer have a problem with mud, but the pavers wear his nails down so I don’t have to cut them.
Yep.
We lost the Oldest Brother this year.
He was a great dog.
Good idea.
I had a Sheltie a ways back.
Wonderful little girl.
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