Finally buried Big the frog today. That Tupperware is good stuff; he sat nicely decomposing in our closet for a little over a week with no discernible offensive odor whatsoever. Not that the folks at Tupperware would be appreciative of the sort of endorsement I could offer, but impressive, nevertheless.
Maj and I buried him in the back corner of the yard (one nice thing about rainy Oregon – soft dirt for burying things). I said a few words about what a great frog Big had been, Maj blew him a kiss, and that was that. We buried him before we picked up Kallan from her sleepover, because Kallan has a tendency to dig things up to see how the rotting is going. Which means that the burial of small beloved pets who are not Kallan’s needs to be done in secrecy. Mark and I are hopeful that Kallan’s curiosity means that she will grow up to be a scientist instead of a serial killer.
Kallan had a great time at the sleepover, but didn’t actually sleep much. Because of this, she was even more fragile and dramatic than usual today. None of it was funny, so I will spare you the details except to say that Kallan went from cheerful to satanic in the 2 minute drive home from the sleepover. She and I had to sit in the car in our driveway for 15 insane minutes while I waited for her to regain control; Kallan screaming at top volume the whole time about how horrible and cruel I am and how I never believe her.
All this because of dog poo . . . again! Yesterday, before the sleepover, she went and played in the neighbor girl’s yard and stepped in dog poo. No big deal, but annoying. I hosed off, washed, and dried the shoes (her favorites, so she could not be talked into wearing another pair). So with shiny clean shoes she went to the sleepover and then climbed into the car this morning to return home with both shoes covered in dog poo! Does no one in Lake Oswego clean up after their pets? The problem came when I pointed it out and asked how that could have happened. She said that the mom must have borrowed her shoes to go get the morning paper and accidentally stepped in the poo, because she hadn’t left the house a single time during her visit and there was no way she could have stepped in anything.
At which point I said that while I didn’t really care that she had stepped in poo again, it was annoying to be lied to about it.
And then all hell broke loose.
Seriously though . . . what is up with the dog shit? Before arriving in Oregon, Kallan had never once in her entire life stepped in dog poo in either her own back yard or the back yard of a friend. Not once. So she doesn’t know to expect it and watch for it; she assumes that everyone else is cleaning up like they always have. Of course, it doesn’t help that Kallan seems to have some weird magnetic shit-force that draws her to the most recent and stinkiest piles.
If I wasn’t the sort to clean up immediately, our back yard would be a mine field this evening. Jack the stupid smaller dog has been busy today. He noticed before I did this morning that I had not only left the door to the garage open, but also neglected to replace the top to their 60 pound plastic dog food bin. Of course he climbed in, and of course he ate until I found him about 10 minutes later. He was all crazed and chomping and drooling, and when I plucked him out of the container, his stomach was the size of a bowling ball. He’s a 13 pound dog, so adding 7 pounds of stomach is pretty impressive.
Impressive, but temporary. Hence the clean-up.
In non-poo related news, I sooooooo wish you could have been there to giggle with me as I listened to Mark make awkward driver’s-side window Super Bowl small talk with the guy pumping our gas this morning. Especially because Mark teased me about my discomfort with these weird window interactions, it was delightful and satisfying to see him squirm. The guy pumping our gas was about 17 and very animated, and just incredibly excited about the game and bummed that he would be working but thrilled that his boss was going to let him listen to it on the radio. Mark did his best to carry his end of the conversation, but I could see his mind racing and listening for a clue, because he had NO IDEA WHATSOEVER which teams might possibly be playing in the Super Bowl. Mark doesn’t follow football unless the University of Michigan is playing, and even then, he is easily distracted. Mark thought he had managed to get through it, but then came the moment, as they were exchanging final words and the receipt: “So who do you like in today’s game?” Mark concentrated really hard on putting his receipt away neatly in his wallet, and for a moment, I thought he was just going to close the window and drive away, leaving the question unanswered. But then the guy, oblivious to Mark’s discomfort, happily followed up with, “Saints or the Colts? What do you think?” And Mark was saved.
I wish you could have been there. It was awesome.