Two things happened yesterday. Well, three. All dog-related. Go ahead and kill yourself now.
First of all, Lottisimo's ears popped up at some point between yesterday morning and yesterday at lunch. I went to work and she was a normal dog. Well, "normal." And I came home and it was like she'd had a wash and set. Now they flap all over yonder when she tears around the house, aka "is awake."
Also, her DNA results came back. She's a Boxer/Pit/Golden retriever/Lab/German shepherd. As you do. And then there are some weird mixed results, but one of the ones they mentioned is she might have Rhodesian Ridgeback in her, and I have noted this roughness on the fur along her spine and I WONDERED if she had some RR.
They didn't tell me what percent asshole she is.
And you know, the last few days, I've been saying to her, "You're looking more and more pitty." I knew I saw some Pit in there. Lottie go Pit on yer ass. And Golden retriever. Beware.
Also, yesterday the trainer came. After I had my morning of crying the other day, I emailed this guy, who has a dog training business and is the husband of someone at work. "I'm about to day drink unless someone helps me with this dog," I wrote him.
So at lunchtime, he headed over. Have you ever worked with a trainer? Because your regularly scheduled asshole puppy sits all pretty and looks up at said trainer like he hung the moon, and you're all HOW DOES HE DO THAT?
"She's showing signs of being very intelligent," said the trainer.
Anyway, he suggested he maybe...divide his time, between Lottie and Edsel. I know! Can you imagine? And I don't even have to tell you how Edsel felt about a manly no-nonsense guy coming over WITH HOT DOGS IN A CAN.
I did not take pictures during training, because do you know who would not have put up with such "lemme get m'phone" shenanigans? Is that trainer.
But the good news is at the end of the lunch hour, we were chatting in my back yard, and I noticed...play going on. I looked over, and the dogs were playing. My dogs were playing! It's like something shifted, just like Lottie's ears.
Oh, that grass. What did you guys say to do about it, again? Cause of course I've forgotten. What I WANT to do is build a deck, because no grass will really grow under my big tree and under my dogs' feets. But, money.
Speaking of which, Project Kaye is a Bitch, aka my budget, is going well. I called AT&T 249 times before I got anyone, and then it turns out contract and so on, so all I was able to do was lower my cell phone bill $10 a month. "As it is, you're on the $49 a month plan already," someone there told me, sacred cows braying in the background.
Do cows bray?
"You guys always say that," I said, "but then why is my bill always more than a hundred dollars?"
"Well, there's an installation fee, and a monthly line rate."
An installation fee. Why don't you chew on my silk bag of dicks? YOU DIDN'T INSTALL ANYTHING. IT'S A CELL PHONE. Assholes.
Probably when Lottie grows up, she'll work for AT&T.
I gotta go. The weekend yawns before me, and I keep saying that, don't I? I haven't had a date since I think March, when I went out with that really young guy and blew him off after. We had a nice time, I don't even know what my problem was. I guess I'm still not fucking ready to date. Goddammit. Also, apparently I'm dating dogs.
I've dated several men who I don't know why I wasn't feeling it, actually. So. Not ready. Maybe eventually some man will show up in a parking lot. I hope he has a large parking deck.
Talk to you later. It's a holiday weekend, and no one will read me. Should I do a wordless weekend where I take pictures and update them as the day goes by? Okay. Glad we had this talk. Go iron your white pants.
Mom of a GoldPitBoxShepLab