Training the Human

First off, a confession: I called Grandma last night just to catch up, since it's been awhile...and as we're wont to do, we discussed the current political situation, with me cheerleading Barack Obama and Grandma admitting that she really didn't want to vote for either of them. So I candidly suggested that she could, if she wanted to, write-in someone on the ballot, casually suggesting Mike Huckabee, since I know she liked him when he was still in the running. That seemed to perk her interest, and while I tried to sound patriotic, explaining that as Americans we can vote for whoever we want! in the back of my mind I must confess I was thinking "one less vote for..."

I am a bad, bad person. As punishment, I forced myself to write this a hundred times:

"I will not coerce my 93-year old grandmother into voting for a third party so I can get my candidate one step closer to the White House."

So. Yeah.

Zomg! Debate! Still on! Half an hour now--beer is chilling and buffalo wings are defrosting! You can keep your Superbowl parties...I only wish I had a crowd of Barack supporters here to share the love with me. O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!

In the meantime, I still have a beagle. I'm starting to feel like the Dread Pirate Roberts--you know: "Good work, Wesley, sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning." Only here it's more like, "I'll most likely get rid of you in the morning." But we're starting to speak each other's language, so it's getting easier. Oh, believe me, there are times when I am thisclose to chucking him off the verandah, but it is really nice having a dog around, especially one who falls asleep in your lap. Aw.

We've been having a problem with peeing in the house though. I know he can hold it, because he does while I'm away at work, but in the evenings--when he has to go, he'll find a spot in the house and let 'er rip. It's not marking, but full on splashdown. I posted a pic of Kiz in her oh-so-sexy bellyband, but even that didn't stop him. Then I started thinking--it's not him, it's me. He doesn't bark, he doesn't whine, he doesn't let me know he needs to go out. Sure, he hangs out by the door, but if I'm in my room, that does neither of us any good. I don't want him barking, but there must be something...so I bought a cat bell and hung it from the doorknob. I won't say that he's understood the concept yet, but just now he rang it to go out. WHOO. Of course, that necessitated a lot of Nicki fumbling into her shoes, saying "good dog, good dog, hang on--!" but that seemed to amuse him. If only I had some sexy wellies...



And the best part about the dog is you get to tell dog stories and be the person on the end of a leash who gets to generously ask kids if they want to pet your puppy. It's a novelty to have a friendly puppy instead of a cantankerous older dog--although when I picked Kizzy up from playcare today I learned that he got put into time-out a couple times for getting into an altercation with a black Lab. I won't say that having a dog is like having a baby, but I feel somewhat responsible, especially since I told him it was okay to defend himself if he was being roughed up. I am a lazy parent, what can I say? I even let him watch TV--but only until mommy's shows come on.