Week 18 in puppyville and I still not sure I like this guy. He still chews, he attacks the kids, he won't let me pee in private, and now "my time" after I put the kids to bed is taken up with playing with him or deterring Woodrow from humping my leg. I alternate from really liking him to thinking he is a giant Asshole.
Hubby is out of town and normally I will admit that I kinda enjoy it. I usually get housework done. I do floors, I clean rooms, I clean out cabinets. But with Woodrow now a part of the family I am just overwhelmed with frustration. I yell at the dog, I yell at the kids, I yell at myself for yelling at the kids and the dog. Basically it has been three days of me screaming and kids crying, dog humping. And it's been hot. Really hot, like Southern California hot, only they have cooler temps right now. So puppy being the difficult son of a bitch that he is, doesn't want to go for walks or runs. He just wants to sit on the air conditioner vent in between terrorizing me and Cookie.
I now, notice the piles of poop in front yard that Cookie narrowly missed being dragged through. I put dog and kids in gated backyard so I can pick up piles of steaming smelling feces. As I am scraping poop into poop bucket from scooper I spy from the corner of my eye Cookie in the front yard with the dog back on the lead! Now my child is smart...but this was anything but a smart decision. Bill Cosby would say in his stand-up, "Kids are Brain Dead." Ain't that the truth, cause what in the world would possess this child who had just been dragged 40 feet by the dog to try it again?
Now here's where things get dicey. Me, exhausted after a long day of referring between dog and kids, swimming, and park in 96 degree heat at 5,000 ft, starts in on the screaming. And my neighbor, whom I love dearly is in her backyard with her entire family celebrating her 70th birthday gets to hear the whole embarrassing exchange. Cookie says to me later, "Mommy my noggin was tired that's why I didn't make a good decision." Insert guilt.