Monthly Archives: November 2013

Spencer Goes To A Party




He's looking for the cake...

He’s looking for the cake…

If any of you are doubting the truth of my stories of Spencer, I now have
witnesses. I had my annual Holiday/birthday party for the kids. Lots of people,
LOTS of kids and LOTS AND LOTS of food. Spencer was in heaven with the whole
kid/food combination. I warned everyone who came in about Spencer and his
thieving, and Cecelia and her sneak attacks. I told Spencer stories and he laid
there basking in the attention…

Children love Spence. He is huge and smelly and awkward and very funny and he
farts. He’s like a clown dog. And he tolerates little kids trying to ride him or
crawl on him. He loves it. Rub his tummy and he smiles…teeth and all. But all
the while, he is keeping one eye on any dropped or unattended food. He casually
walks by the garbage can and takes a peek, snatches the plate of cake and walks
on into the living room to eat while enjoying the tree and the little kids
playing. Now if he could just get someone to bring him his smoking jacket and
pipe he would be all set sitting regally on the blue velvet sofa. Ass.

As I am standing in the kitchen talking with a friend, behind me Spencer is
unattended in the dining room. And in front of at least 5 other people, Spencer
takes a HUGE wedge of cake off a plate that was on the table and inhaled it. My
friend tried to warn me. She pointed and yelled “DOG!! FOOD!!” and that was all
she could get out before the cake was gone. The other guests were amazed at the
gracefulness. He didn’ knock the plate off the table. They were impressed with
his technique. That’s when he knew he had them all in the palm of his paw. Now
he knew that they would bow down to honor him and treat him with the much lack
respect previously afforded to such a funny fat smelly mutt. And he sashayed
away with attitude…until he took one step on to the laminate flooring and his
entire back end went down. And he kind of crawled/dragged himself to the rug,
hoisted himself up, shook it off and turned left into the family room where he
slid on his belly all the way to the couch. Impressed all the guests. But also
made them feel compassion for this dog who is obviously on his last legs. He’s
like a movie star past his prime but thinking he’s still got it.

Now, after the party I was cleaning up and putting away all the food. I took the
garbage outside, did the dishes, wiped down the counters and let Spence catch
the crumbs. After all, he put on a good show. But I either accidental left the
fridge ajar or Spencer has another cool new trick. When I got up the next
morning, all of my chicken wing dip was gone, half of a cheesecake, carton of
eggnog pierced and spilled all over the floor. All of the Saran wrap that I had
used to cover the food was gone. And I haven’t seen it yet. And I kinda hope I
never do.

So added to the list of Spencer tricks is refrigerator opening. I have to think
he could be a very useful mutt. He could be trained to help people (lazy people
like myself) Work for his meals. But his compulsion is so grand he wouldn’t be
able to get me a snack without eating the entire thing before actually getting
it to me.

I sat him down and explained the state of our economy and how it coincides with
the diet that the vet wants to put him on. See I have no money to buy dog food
and he needs to eat less. Serendipity!!

And for Christmas morning I will give him the gift of my grandmother’s cereal
bowl for his new food portions and he will most likely give me back the Saran
wrap, used twice. We love each other and really think about a thoughtful gift
for the Holiday. And if I am truly as loved as I think I am, he will leave it
right where I will step in it with my bare feet. It’s love, dysfunctional love,
but love none the less.


Spencer Goes To A BBQ



his “Westminster” pose…doesn’t LOOK like he’d be licking random grease traps does he?

his “Westminster” pose…doesn’t LOOK like he’d be licking random grease traps
does he?

It’s summer. Spencer is 13 years old. He has cloudy eyes and selective hearing.
He has ruined every single one of my antique oriental rugs and now he’s working
on ruining the hardwoods. He needs a full time nurse to help him wipe when he
poops. And he cannot walk on the hardwoods because they are actually laminate
and he just belly flops and can’t get up. Yeah, that’s my dog…He’s fallen and he
can’t get up. Real funny except in the middle of the night when he falls in his
own pee AND poop and then can’t get up. Cold showers at 3am but not for the same
reason as they used to be.

I have made many concessions for this mutt. I have rolled up the rugs. I have
spent a small fortune on baby gates. I have invested in dog beds…that’s right,
beds. Because he’s a picky sleeper. I have barricaded the stairs so he cannot go
upstairs because he throws himself down the stairs and I know he will break a
hip one of these days. Basically, he is now confined to one room. The fancy
livingroom (which isn’t so fancy anymore minus the rugs and plus the pee and

Last fall I had new storm doors installed. I had my heart set on the full length
screen door but I knew that would be a major temptation for Spence. He has never
seen a screen door that he didn’t plow through. Still, I talked myself into the
full length, stupid expensive, screen door. In the winter, it was a full length
glass door that Spencer left nose prints all over. I changed it out, put the
screen in, bought yet another heavy duty baby gate to go in front of it and
figured I was brilliant…or at least smarter than Spencer.

I was wrong. Oh so wrong. First of all, to get out of my front door, you had to
open the door, then the baby gate, then the screen door,go through, while
holding the screen door open but closing the baby gate and/or the door all the
time yelling at Spencer to “GIT” because he is deaf and trying to escape. It’s a
process. One which I am sure the neighbors enjoy watching. Anyway, I have to be
vigilant as Spencer loves to roam and the street is busy and the neighbors don’t
care for him pooping in their yard and going thru their garbage. I don’t blame
them. I don’t like it either.

But Spencer has gotten old. So old that his fur never grew back from his last
trip to the groomers last year. He is now a short haired dog with some long
hairs here and there. Kinda like an old man with the nose/ear hair growth…He was
really acting as if he wasn’t all that interested in escaping or even doing his
routine where he does a dive roll through the screen door. The baby gate was
pretty secure. I became complacent. I thought he was too old for his antics of
yesteryear. Can I be any wronger?

Emma: I’m sorry. Me: for what? Emma: for having a dumb brother.

The other day we were out and about and I had left the front door open with the
baby gate closed and the screen door locked. I got a text from my neighbor who
lives 5 house down that Spencer had just come up for a visit and he walked him
home and shut the door. WHAT???? How is that possible????? I got home and there
is Emma laying in the backyard waiting patiently for someone to let her in. No
one knew she had also escaped because she is smart and simply went to the
backyard to wait for us to come home. She looked like she knew she was in
trouble but she is kind of the asskisser of the pack and was already acting all
contrite and remorseful. And what did she do with her time alone outside in the
big wide world? Nothing. She waited for us in the backyard. Spencer on the other
hand just HAD to go visiting. Lucky for him he decided to visit the guys who
like him, or at least tolerate him.

So, exasperated, I close the front door. I am beaten, I give up. Spencer wins. I
can’t have nice things. No antique rugs, no full length screen doors.Wait a
second… wait one gosh darn second… I am the human here… I am the grown up… I am
THE MOM!!! I say open the front door and live life!! That damn dog is not
allowed to rule this house!!! And for a few days, I think he understands that I
am in charge and what I say goes and I say he is NOT allowed to go THROUGH the
screen door ever again! Yeah, he gets it. And just incase he doesn’t I shut the
front door every time we leave the house.

All is well…until today. I open the door, I give my warning (which even I am
sick of hearing) about not leaving the house, to which Spencer just rolls his
rheumy eyes, and I go upstairs. I get a text from my neighbor UP the street that
she just sent Spencer home and he is at the front door. WHAT???? I know deja vu
right? I run down stairs yelling at the kids that Spencer is outside and I open
the baby gate and the screen door, (which now is really just a frame of a door
with some screen kind of hanging from the corner), fully expecting to find the
arrogant mutt waiting. He’s not there! I send the 8 year old down the street,
the 12 year old up the street and I go to the back yard. He couldn’t have gotten
far. It had literally been possibly 15 seconds from my neighbor’s text to me
arriving outside. No Spencer. No Spencer anywhere. After 15 minutes I start to
get worried. He is kind of blind and sometimes deaf and the roads are busy. I
know all he wants is food or better yet garbage or nirvana would be something
big and dead to roll in…half and hour, still no Spencer. The 12 year old thinks
she has picked up his trail as she found a steaming pile of poop right in the
middle of the sidewalk around the corner and down about a half a block. At this
point, I am driving around, alerting all the responsible dog owners who are out
walking their well behaved dogs on leashes. Imagining the worst, that he has
been hit by a car and is being taken by ambulance to the ER and that he is
uninsured, I drive slower and yell louder. I don’t know why I am yelling because
he only hears what he wants to but that is what dog owners in the movies do when
their dog is lost.

About 45 minutes and at least 10 trips around the neighborhood, I pull in to the
driveway and see that Emma and my 8 year old are sitting on the sidewalk and my
12 year old is walking toward my neighbor who has Spencer by the collar. Relief.
I wanted to hug him and kick him all at the same time (Spencer that is, not my
neighbor). My neighbor had been driving around looking also and he decided to go
home and check his yard again when he saw Spencer’s butt in his next door
neighbor’s yard. As he rounded the corner he caught Spence in the grease pan of
their grill licking away as if it were his job. My neighbor introduced Spencer
to the new neighbor, making sure that the new neighbor understood that Spencer
was harmless albeit annoying and then he hauled my dumb dog home.

Spencer was in the mood for some barbecue. It is summer after all. Turd.

P.S. for all of you who may think that I don’t feed Spencer enough please refer
to” target=”_blank”>
which will give you an idea of what Spencer is, which is not underfed!

Spencer Goes For A Walk


spencer goes for a walk
Spencer just got home from his evening walk. I did not take him on an evening
walk. No one took him. He just decided that he would like to go on a walk and he
did. I have no idea how he got out of the house. I mean, I called him and Emma
to come outside while I took the laundry off the line, but he refused. Emma came
out and stood guard against the next door neighbor’s dogs. I love her for being
so very protective, but the neighbor’s dogs are gentle, sweet mutts, so her
protective instinct is unnecessary, but I will never tell her that. She reminds
me of the old army general who still believes he’s in combat.

When I was done with the laundry, Emma and I came back in. I assumed Spencer was
upstairs with the kids, farting up a storm. I came upstairs and sat down to
watch Grey’s. Cecelia came upstairs and was acting funny. She was jumping up on
my desk, and then she attached herself to my bedroom screen. Like full body,
spread eagle. That was strange. But she is a strange cat, so whatever. Then she
stood in the hallway and meowed like she was trying to tell me something….what
is it girl? Is Spencer down the street?

Being the non confrontational person I am, I just ignored her antics. I did
start to wonder where Spencer was. He usually makes the rounds at bedtime. He
will stay with the littlest kid till she falls asleep, then he goes into the
center child’s room till she shuts off her light. Then he comes into my room and
snores and farts until I kick him out at which point he goes and scratches and
whines until the oldest wakes up and opens her door to let him in. The oldest is
the only one of us with the combination of big bed/ tolerance for Spencer so he
usually winds up in there with her. But tonight, I haven’t heard his farts,
snores, or floor shaking crash when he lays down. I assume that he is downstairs
getting into the garbage. Haven’t I learned not to assume? Because when you
assume you make an “ass” out of “u” and “me” = ass/u/me.

I wasn’t too concerned. All the doors were shut and locked and I knew he hadn’t
come out with me and Emma. Maybe he is having some alone time on the couch. He
is 12 years old now, sometimes he just needs to be by himself, on the couch
where he is not allowed to be. All of the sudden, I hear the screen door bang.
Odd, I think to myself. All the kids are in bed, asleep. Maybe it was the
wind….then I hear a bang on the front door. How very strange this is. Then I
hear Spencer barking. Outside. Really? No. Can’t be MY dog outside my front
door, barking to be let in. Because MY dog knows he is not allowed out on his
own. MY dog knows to go on a walk he needs to be with a grown up and on a leash.
MY dog can’t really osmos through a solid door. It can’t be MY dog.

I open the front door and Spencer trots in like it’s everyday that he takes off
for an hour and a half and then knocks at the front door to be let in. He heads
straight for the water dish, no remorse, no explanation. He assumed that I would
come let him in when he knocked. Spencer is the only male who continues to
surprise me. Just when I think he is too old for mischief, I find him knocking
at the front door. Lord knows he peed on all of the spring tulips on the block.
I know he got into someone’s garbage and no doubt he rolled in something dead.
When will I learn that Spencer is who he is and no amount of talking or
explaining will change him. He is 84 dog years old now and he feels he has
reached an age of maturity where he gets to decide what he does with his time.

And isn’t that what we all want? We all strive for the age where we are able to
go where we want,when we want, without having to answer to anyone. And we all
want someone to be there when we come home, to open the door for us. Spencer is
a lucky dog. I think it’s time he had his own house key.

Spencer Gets A Cat

Her tail used to be longer

Her tail used to be longer



Her tail used to be longer….

Our house in the middle of the woods was always being visited by critters. When
we moved in the bats had a welcome home party for us. The bat guy removed over
100 from the “attic” space. Then there were the flying squirrels who are not
only nocturnal but also very friendly. It was known as the “snake house” before
we got there. Skunks, raccoons, deer, owls, coy dogs and turkey. The house was
what you would describe as something out of Deliverance. We even had our first
encounter with a ferrel cat.

I had no idea there was such a thing as a ferrel cat. That is a wild cat that
looks like a regular cat but surprise! it is actually a wild animal. FYI never
try to pet a ferrel cat if you like having hands. We had one that was living on
our back deck. Our dog Killian made friends with this cat. Killy would lay on
the inside of the window and the cat would lay on the outside. It was really
cute. Until the day I decided that the cat should come inside.

He had ventured close to the door. I had been feeding him and he was so pretty.
He was becoming friendlier and it was getting really cold outside. So, I slide
open the door and pet him for a bit,that went well so, I bend down and pick him
up. He is doing ok, crawls up to my shoulders, purring.I was so innocent. I
bring him in the house and the cat attacks me. Clawing, biting and hissing. A
ball of deadly fur. Killian tries to play, he thinks this is great fun now that
his friend is in the house. Poor Killy soon realizes that his friend is an
asshole, puts his tail between his legs and runs crying from the room. The cat
takes off further into the house. I grab the kid and barricade us in the
bathroom. I am being held hostage in my own home by a cat. The funny thing is
this isn’t the last time in my life that this will happen to me. After a few
hours, we get the cat out of the house and he never comes back.

A few years later, after shooting bb guns at bats and coaxing flying squirrels
out bedroom windows and trapping snakes in hallways I decide that it is time for
a real cat. Spence and Emma had joined us in the wooded habitat for humanity but
they were absolutely useless when it came to critters in the house. They were
only interested in critters outside the house. A bat swooping at my head while I
screamed like a B movie star simply made them giggle. A mouse running across the
floor might make them lift their heads, but only for a split second.We needed a

And with serendipity a cat was delivered. A student of mine came to the studio
with a box full of kittens!! I picked up the grey tiger and she nibbled my ear.
I so missed having a kitten. She was mine!! I brought her home and promptly got
pregnant so no kitty litter duty for me!!

Cecelia was a strange kitten from day one. Very loud, but so very beautiful and
the softest fur. She and the dogs didn’t care about each other. She was growing
nicely and then she went into heat. This is when she started getting really

Whenever a man would speak, she would meow loudly and back her hind end up in
the direction of him. It was crazy. Who ever had heard of a cat turned on by the
sound of a man’s voice?. And she started getting really mean with me and the
kids. So, off she goes to the vet for her operation. This was the first clue we
had that she was not a “normal” cat. The show she put on at the vet’s was
incredible. I have had cats all my life, even mean cats, but this level of
insanity was beyond my experience…..except for the ferrel cat, hhmmmmm.

She started acting out all the time. Hiding and yelling at us from behind
furniture. The kids were scared of her. She would do guerrilla attacks on them,
hiding and then scratching them as they walked by. No one was immune from
Cecelia and her moods. She would be so sweet and curl up on my lap and then as I
was petting her, she would twist her body around and scream and claw me and then
run.Doesn’t make for a trusting relationship. Lulling me into a sense of
security and peace and then WHAM fur ball from hell. I was genuinely scared of

But she could snatch a bat in mid flight and she ate mice whole, leaving just
the tail. She would play with a snake until it was curled into a ball
motionless. Bugs were an appetizer. This cat was a hunter the likes of which I
had never encountered. And so she has a permanent home with me.

She became so insane that she chewed part of her own tail off. She is neurotic.
She gets into a mood where she licks herself bald. And did I mention she is
mean? But I don’t give up. I take her to the vet, again, this is a bad idea. The
vet suggests Prozac. Yes, I am one of those people who put their cat on Prozac.
It made no difference whatsoever. None. I contemplated taking the Prozac myself.
Instead I start paying very close attention to what sets her off. I study her
moods and try to correlate them to the moon, the seasons or some other crap.
There is no correlation, she is just insane.

When I was in the process of moving from the house in the woods to the house in
the village, I left her for a few weeks in the house in the woods all by
herself. I would stop by daily to feed her, although she had taken down a huge
bird and dragged it inside so she was pretty self sufficient. She was happier
than I had ever seen her. All she wanted was the house to herself. She enjoyed
being alone. She was actually affectionate to me when I would stop by, her fur
grew back, she smiled and purred. Weirdo.

But really, a cat cannot own a house and live there all alone. I couldn’t
justify keeping a whole house just for the cat. Prozac yes, a house? No. Getting
her to my new house was quite the challenge. It took me 3 days, 2 boxes, duct
tape and a trip to the ER for some stitches, but I did it. I got that ball of
mad fur to my new house. She didn’t forgive me very quickly. It was about a year
before she would jump up on my lap and let me sit quietly, not moving or
breathing too loudly. She is so good to me.


Spencer Announces His Retirement

He's so spoiled...

He’s so spoiled…

In case you hadn’t heard, I just got a new floor installed in my family room. I
had Berber carpeting, cream Berber carpeting. Between the dogs and the kids, it
became a brownish, smelly Berber carpet. Spencer loves to lay in the creek in
the backyard. It is a very shallow creek, nothing like the one he used to have,
but still, the water flows over his large, farty body and he is happy. When he
decides to come in (which incidentally never coincides with me calling for him)
he is a muddy mess. All four legs and belly. Mud. Most of the time I catch him
and hose him down. But really, is wet clean dog any better than wet dirty dog?
Not much.

Between Spencer and his mud baths and Emma’s tail that innocently knocks over
any container on the coffee table, the rug stunk. So, I go buy wood laminate
flooring. The cheapest kind they have. I have hardwoods in most of my downstairs
and wood laminate in my fancy living room. Spencer has had some issues with the
laminate in the fancy living room. He slips. His feet can’t get a grip and he
slips and falls and has a hard time getting back up. He is so uncoordinated
anyway, that slipping and falling is like some sort of physical comedy. He
reminds me of John Ritter. Because of his floor problems I have the rugs and
runners strategically placed so that he can get from one room to the other. The
funny thing is, he does just fine on the real hardwoods…it’s just the fakes he
can’t seem to walk normally on.

I think it may be because he is stuck up. Like he is too good for fake floors
so, he makes this huge big deal about walking on them. Like “See, SEE, I can’t
even WALK on this cheap shit!!!! I’m going to break my hip on this lousy wannabe
wood floor and THEN you’ll be sorry” And I have no doubt that is just what will
happen one day.

But I can’t afford anything super nice and I cannot live with the smell from the
carpet. I get the cheapest of the cheap. The fact that it took from May to
November to actually have it installed is a rant for another blog. The Guy
finally shows up. Of course Spencer and Emma go insane they are so excited to
see The Guy. They LOVE The Guy. They just know that The Guy is going to give
them a pat and he’ll even let them hang out with him while he does his Guy stuff
cause all Guys love dogs and vice versa. Oh happy day for our family!!! There’s
a Guy and he’s installing floors!!!!!

Spencer and Em were up The Guy’s butt, following him out to the truck and back
in, tolerating The Guy’s banging and sawing. Emma was over it though when he
started with the nail gun. That was a little too manly for her. Spencer didn’t
move a muscle, total faith in The Guy’s capabilities.The Guy is done and the
floor is finished. Nice. Doesn’t smell, doesn’t look dirty. I am so happy!Emma
comes in and checks out the new space. She gives me a high five. Spencer stands
in the doorway whining. He puts one paw in and barks. Barks at me like it’s all
my fault that he can’t walk normally into the family room. He’s jealous that we
are in here and he isn’t. He’s standing there pouting. And for once Emma is
getting all of the attention.

Two days this went on. I think he thought if he protested hard enough I would
change it back to carpet so that he could walk without looking like it’s his
first time on roller skates. But I’m not giving in. He’s going to have to figure
it out. His solution is to push back and then catapult himself to the scatter
rug. There he lies until he farts, which sends him falling and stomping and
whining out the door. Yesterday, all four legs went out from under him at the
same time and he hit the floor like a belly flop. He gave me The Evil Eye for
that one. I mean, that’s just funny.

It’s just walking! He’s been doing it for years! I guess I could invest in
scooters for the laminate floors.That wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I have done
for this dog. Spencer figured it out though. He licks all his paws before he
attempts to come in. And as a sweet little reminder as to where in the room
Spencer has been are his slimy dogie prints.He needs some non skid socks. How
did he go from an outdoor dog who ate whatever and ran where ever to needing old
lady socks to get around in his own home. I guess he is officially retired.




Spencer And The Snowstorm




Happy Mutts

Happy Mutts

We got over a foot and a half of snow last night. Spencer is about a foot and a
half tall. So, when I let him out this morning he went sledding down the back
stairs and belly flopped into the snow where he was immediately covered by the
avalanche from the roof because I slammed the door. Oh it was funny!!! I laughed
and laughed at him!! He crawled out and walked in a circle 3 times and then
stood still. I assume he was peeing but all I could see of him was his head and
the top of his back. He may have just been contemplating the best revenge for me
laughing at him.

I was all ready to start snow blowing. I was still in my PJ’s but I had on my
scarf, hat, gloves and boots. I knew this was not going to be a fun project. My
car was buried and my driveway is on an incline. And it is single wide meaning
that only one car can fit down or up the driveway. I do have a turn around area.
I knew I would have to snowblow the turn around also because there was no way I
could back up and out of the driveway. Ok, so, now I was procrastinating,
wondering how a plow guy could do it…where I should start…wondering if my
neighbors will totally laugh at me snow blowing in my PJ’s and wondering if I
care if they do….Meanwhile, Spencer is doing his damndest to get back up the

To his credit, he was trying to dig around where he thought the stair was. He
knew that I was going to be of NO help as I stood there giggling at him. He was
mumbling under his breath as he dug. But really, it’s not like he was going to
put his superior digging skills to use for MY sake. He was not going to help me
dig out the car. He finally realized that he does not have the ability to stand
on one stair and dig on the next, so he starts barking at me.

I did all the dumb things I did when he got himself stuck upstairs. I tried
encouraging him, I tried dragging him, I thought about trying to carry him. I
was trying to avoid shoveling. I had to have a goal if I was going to get thru
this snow hell and my goal was to not use a shovel, only the snow blower.
Spencer was not going to ruin my goal before I even got started. Who’s the
evolved one here? I went up the stairs kicking snow out of the way, now both of
us are muttering under our breath.

Spencer is back inside now and Emma, the smartest one in the family, had refused
to come out at all. She rather pee on the rug than slide down the stairs. Who
can blame her, really? Ok, now I am ready to snow blow. First task was to find
the snow blower which was buried completely under all the snow. I started
kicking and digging around where I think I had left it. Score! And it starts!!
So far so good! But this is really wet, heavy snow and I kept getting stuck. As
I have no upper body strength, I have to put my hips into it, with a rocking
motion. I am sure this looks like some fetish video. Being in my PJ’s with an
assortment of winter accessories on I think makes the entire thing hysterical.
Now, I am snow blowing, getting stuck, doing my snow blower dance and laughing
hysterically by myself.Oh and talking to the snow blower. It started stalling
out so I would then say “Come ON! You’re a snow blower, this is what you DO!
What you were built for!! You can do it! It’s your moment to shine!!!” It
crossed my mind to actually cross the street to the neighbors to see if they
were finding this as funny as I was…

I got one pass done and I turn around and there is Spencer, pooping on the
cleared 1 foot by 1 foot area of driveway. I was astonished to see him
there,looking right at me, pooping where I had just snow blowed. And he was
laughing too. Like that was his revenge. Whatever. I kept going which kind of
scared him. He didn’t know which way to go. He knew I was watching so he
shouldn’t go up the driveway, but that was really the only way to go as I hadn’t
snowblowed anything else yet. He turned in a few circles and then went up the
stairs and ran through the door, which had blown open. I was still laughing at
the hilarity of the situation. Me and my goofiness and Spencer and his choice of
space to poop. Ha ha ha!

My second thought was “I better remember the poop is there because I don’t want
to step in it or snow blow it and have poopcicles fly all over the yard. That
would be just my luck! That is what happened every time I used the weed wacker!!
Oh spring…I can’t wait till…POOP!!!!” And yes, not only had I snow blowed the
fresh poop, but then I stepped in it. Just in case you had ever wondered, dog
poop smell overpowers exhaust fumes. And apparently chilled fresh dog poop stick
to boots better than even room temperature dog poop. Pretty sure I didn’t
needed to know that. Spencer’s revenge was sweet, in a sense. No kids, that is NOT
chocolate snow…..

Spencer And The Midnight Party




King Mouse Killer

King Mouse Killer

But if he farts, he will blow Emma into outer space

But if he farts, he will blow Emma into outer space


So, Spencer is now on thyroid medication. It has done nothing for his garbage
can diving. He is still farting to beat the band and he hasn’t lost a bit of
weight. But, he is more active, although, I can’t see how that is a good thing.
Spencer is 12 and a half years old, a time when he should be slowing down but
instead, he is speeding up.

He has gotten into the habit of sleeping upstairs with us. He starts in one
bedroom, eventually farts himself to another and still another. Waking me up
with every room change because he is so damn loud. Then, about 2:30am he stands
at the top of the stairs and whines. Every single night. For at least 20
minutes before he finally takes the plunge and throws himself down the stairs.
He’s going to break a hip but he doesn’t care. Generally, he stays down stairs
for about 10 minutes then lumbers back up the stairs, which takes about 5
minutes and falls down in my room with such drama.

Now, I always figured once my kids were sleeping through the night, I would
sleep through the night. I didn’t count on Spencer being a night owl.

Last night was a full out party here at the Spencer abode. At 1am, Eddie decided
that I should know he caught a mouse. So, he brought himself and the mouse into
my bedroom where he proceeded to torture the mouse in every corner of my room
and then under my bed. I finally turned on my light and caught Eddie with the
mouse in his mouth looking at me like a deer caught in headlights. I just looked
at him and said please take that outside, to which he replied with a mouth full
of mouse that he would and he left.

Spencer slept through the entire mouse episode. He even slept through one of his
own farts. I shut off the light and tried to go back to sleep, tried not to
think about the status of the mouse, or the smell of the Spencer fart…just drift
back to sleep…drifting….sleep….POUNCE!!! Eddie lands on my head!!! Ofcourse I
sit up with a small squeal thinking that the mouse is still in his mouth, which
scares Eddie who launches himself backwards off of my head onto Spencer who just
grunts and Eddie runs off to the hallway. I turn on the light to make sure that
there is no dead mouse on my head or in my bed. When I am finally satisfied
there are no mouse guts anywhere, I remake the bed, shut off the light and wait
for my heart to stop pounding while I silently curse all animals for disrupting
my sleep pattern. Ofcourse, by the time I finally find REM again, it’s time for
Spencer’s nightly whine at the top of the stairs. He’s whining, I’m crying and
Eddie thinks this is the perfect time to have a parade because he is the King
Mouse Killer. So, Eddie is doing his flying squirrel impression, jumping from my
bed to my desk and then skidding across my dresser and Spencer is hurdling
himself down the stairs and I am vowing to drop them all off at the farm up the
road because I hate them all.

Within minutes the house is quite again. Eddie is curled up sound asleep in the
crook of my knees (as I am in the fetal position, still crying, wishing death on
these rotten animals). I get up to use the bathroom, and figure I should go find
out where the mouse is. I go down stairs and there is Spencer back to back with
Emma. Neither of them wakes up, they are just sleeping peacefully and I suddenly
remember why I don’t get rid of them. They really are sweet and it looks as
though Spencer comes downstairs nightly to sleep with Em. What a good boy. He
takes turns in all of our rooms, then goes down stairs to make sure his sister
is ok and then comes back upstairs to be with us again. Really thoughtful of
him. Spreading the love and the farts. I go back upstairs and crawl into my warm
bed where Eddie has graciously stayed sleeping keeping my foot space warm. As I
snuggle down with the picture of Spence and Em sleeping so sweetly, I hear
Spencer start his trek back up the stairs and I smile as Eddie comes up and
snuggles into the bend of my arm with his little paw on my chin. And I smile for
the unconditional love. And then I grimace as I remember that Eddie’s paw was
most recently wrapped around a dying mouse. I rolled over with a sigh because
this is my life. Unconditional love from bloody paws and fart dog. If I don’t
get the bubonic plague the gas attacks from Spencer will eventually kill me.

In the morning, I started to worry about where Eddie may have hidden the mouse.
I HATE the smell of decaying mouse and Spencer LOVES it. I figured I would have
to go on a dead mouse hunt as soon as I got home from taking the kids to school
or Spencer would find it, roll in it and then we would have to bathe him and
that is a whole other blog. But as luck would have it, just after I told my
youngest the story about Eddie and the mouse, and how I was unsure as to the
location of the mouse, she walks into the hallway where she promptly says “Um, I
found the mouse!!!” I said “Oh good! Where?” and she says “Right under my
foot!!!”. So, we change her socks and I call up my oldest to get rid of the
mouse. She comes armed with grocery bags and Clorox clean up. As she is scoping
up the mouse, she is squealing and laughing nervously and gagging which is
making me laugh, gag, and squeal even though I am in the other room.

Having pets is not only a family affair, it is a party every night! What was I
thinking adopting all these animals? I wonder if I will ever sleep through the
night. Maybe I should just surrender and get out the disco ball and start
charging for the Nightly Spencer Party….I could make a fortune!!!