Goose me

Pucker Up and I took a Few Minutes To Ourselves today, allowing J to handle his own kids without any silent backseat parenting from me; honestly, he's a good deal calmer with them than I would have been today. Pucker however? Yep, she's mine, and she's due for a Good Run with perhaps some Subversive Training thrown in for good measure.

High Five is firmly under our belt - rather, the spare tire she currently sports hanging over where her belt disappeared - so we've moved on: recall without a leash, from far far far away, as well as recall while ensniffed in something far more interesting than my voice.

Both times? Excellent.

I got bold. Really bold. Went for heeling. Off leash heeling.

Not our strong suit on leash, and certainly not off, but hell, I was taking a breathing moment, I'd love to come home triumphant. Broke out handfulls of treats from hell (seriously disgustingly fattening - and they smell horrific) - viola', she heels.

I'm soooo proud!!!

So yes, I'm at a middle school, while on vacation - it's raining for God's sake. Pouring, really. No one is out. No one at the playground. My car's the only one squatting in the parking lot. Just Pucker and I, having a chat with the Big Guy upstairs about the state of our lives, our relationships, what we'd like or hope for them to be, knowing that really, the best way to hear God laugh is tell Him your plans. I'm pretty sure I head a guffaw.

Either way? Spiritually, we left fufilled. Popped into the car, nipped home to show off our new prowess to J, in the living room, where he's laying on his back, covered with a beach towel. Kids? Strangely absent. We show off our newest acheivement. Jonathan croons the "good girl" routine at her, reaches over to pet her face, peels back his hand with this funny look on his face. His fingers are green.

Grass is green.

It's not sticky.

Goose poop however? Is both green and sticky.

Fuck.

She's standing on the bloody persian rug in the family owned beach house where we've "forgotten" to mention when we said we were taking the Whole Family along, we meant her too. I'm going to kill her. I watched her the whole, entire, I mean every second of the time we were there time, and she did not roll. Not one time. Nor did she make any motions toward rolling. I noticed once she had something in her mouth; I told her to drop it, it was MINE, so she did. Never occured to me to look for goose poop.

There were no geese. If no geese, why look for poop?

Am I stupid. Evidently in the four seconds it took for this frizzy haired desparate mother of three coming to exspend some of her wee progenies energy, she announced that there were no dogs allowed at this school, she rolled. Several times.

Okay, so the kids have been a bit of a trial, and honestly, I was kind of spoiling for a fight, so I gave her one: first off, the sign says nothing about animals. Alcohol? Yes. Skateboards? Yes. Roller blading? Yes. No to all of those things in this playground. Not once, not even in photo form, does it say no fucking dogs.

She got snotty. It's a school rule.

Oh hell no. She's picked on the wrong mom today, my friend. I would understand her being a complete bitch if my dog peed in the playground (next to it, not IN it - completely separate) or had she poop-walked her way under the slide, or in the tire jumping thing on the ground spread way too far apart for any pre-schooler I've ever seeen. But clearly, as an Outside, what do I know?

I know pets are allowed here. In fact, I carried on (hey, once on a roll, best to just let me finish) I could easily have trained a pony here, a goat, allowed a cow to graze, or meandered through with an entire family of freaking buffalo. I'm not drinking alcohol. My pets don't drink alcohol. I am not rollerskating, skate boarding, I'm not running with scissors, as well as most any other "school rule" I can think of. I'm simply enjoying a moment out with my pet, my well-behaved non-screaming pet, allowing her some time to roam, beagle around, practice her heeling, recall, high five, as well as some new idea I've had towards agility. (She totally sucks at jumping up on things, but it's early yet)

Meet Pucker, the Most Perfectly Behaved Dog On Earth. Who is sitting, ladylike, right at my left side. Just. Like. She's. Supposed. To.

Unlike, ps., those hellions you brought here.

Naturally, one should heed the old adage - be careful what you say, you may have to eat those words later - I didn't have to eat them, I had to bathe them. No douche at my disposal (trust me when I say J may like me a lot? but I don't think THAT much) so I asked for any vinegar.

What IS it with people owning the most unusual forms of vinegar on the planet? GRAPE FUCKING VINEGAR.

Fine. I'm desparate. I'll take it. I'm already in the freaking tub with Rolling In Poop On The Sly Ass Dog Of The Year, in brandy new underpinnings - both top and bottoms! Snakes and bastards. I washed her with shampoo (useless endeavor, I realize) til J found grape vinegar (I'm still stuck on who in the name of all that is holy owns GRAPE vinegar?!) to douse said beast. And me. Thank God I'd not shaved my legs this morning, as I'd thought about doing.

Rain= no shaving. Shaving + vinegar = Bad Idea.

Shucked all wet clothing, slipped into flirty skirted suit bottoms, tee and sweatshirt, as we were goinig Netting, at the end of the street. I caught several beautiful rocks. The kids and Jonathan? Found all sorts of fish, jelly fish and shit I won't even go near less touch. They got attacked by some unsuspecting underwater seaweed.

I got attacked by some very unhappy, overly aggressive geese.

Most likely the same fucking geese that shit about three blocks away on a field.

I digress. Two stunningly gorgeous swans (trust me here, flattery gets you absolutly no where with swans) and their three babies (HUGE babies - damn big babies if you ask me) - wings went up, honking came on, I threatened to stick my size eight pink thonged foot right up her ass if she got any closer to me (all this while backing hastily towards the stairs, while also screaming JONATHAN at the top of my lungs - unnecessary, really, he was say, 10 feet away) - I'm telling you, she was totally going for the flirty skirt of my suit bottoms. Jonathan says not. They were looking for bread.

Since they were eating other blowing foliage, it stands to good reason they were after my skirt.

I knew I should've worn the other one.

They left, I got braver, went in up to my knees, doing my usual - hunting down cutie rocks - bent over, flirty skirted backside out to all and sundy......fucking swans return. Honestly. If I didn't have food the first time, and I wasn't thrilled to see you? I'm certainly not going to pull a loaf of bread out of my brandy new (pink, if you're wondering) bra to feed you, especially as you've simply no manners.

We returned; rinsed off sandy feet, got settled on the couch for movie night.

Something smells funny.

yeah......................................that'd be Pucker.

Smelling of goose poop.

Just goes to show: for every good deed, I'll get shit on.