She Kept A Parrot
A Journal For Charlie
I Swear I Had A Life
Maxwell The Arch Nemesis
I swear I had a perfectly satisfactory life before Maxwell. I will get back to my cupboard momentarily, but for now I have to lament. Maxwell will be sleeping over for four whole nights. He is my arch nemesis. And for good reason. He hates my stuff. He’s managed to eat two pairs of my eyeglasses, broken my favorite lamp, chewed up my ROKU remote, and routinely torn my mail to shreds to mention a few of his projects. And, he’s only been at it for a year. He is the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel from Hell. The only gene he escaped in his lineage is the Hapsburg Jaw. He lives next door with my daughter and her family. He goes to work with them. They adore him. When I complain, they tell me he’s “just a puppy”. Even they affectionately call him “puddles”.. as if peeing on my good rug is somehow adorable. Now, they’ve all flown off to somewhere in Colorado in search of snow ostensibly for my grandson. I live for Sunday.
19 Comments on “I Swear I Had A Life”
Comments
She Kept A Parrot 
Thank you very much for helping me find this, George. I understand. Your daughter is very lucky. I suppose it is a pleasure for you too, to live next door to her and her family… but I can tell you, that I’m a very selfish person… and would never have agreed to such an outrage. What a disaster. I understand there are hotels for such characters… well, what do I know… ?
LikeLike
Yes, there are hotels for characters like Maxwell. But, Maxwell is family, you know. Besides, his little heart is matched only by his passion for chewing things. I love Maxwell. I only hope he grows up….quickly! 😉
LikeLike
Oh, that makes it worse. My condolences…
LikeLike
Ha Ha. You are so right about that!
LikeLike
Obviously missing his home and family. Bring over some of their things and let him play with them. I’m sure he would love to play fetch with their remote or ornamental pillows. Lovely close-up. 🙂
LikeLike
Now that’s an idea. I’ll sneak over and fetch her favorite silk pillows. I’ll tell her the ragged corners were designed by King Charles to capture the old style shabby chic. I love it! Next time…. 😉 Thanks!
LikeLike
Two words: Jack Daniels (him or you–you choose)
[thank you for your very kind remarks, my dear–I was just about to nominate you for the shirley maclaine award. guess I’ll have to reserve that for later.]
LikeLike
But he seems so lovely… I hope you have a nice time together, Thank you, with my love, nia
LikeLike
Dog hair yikes… We have a shepard and sweep up enough hair to make a new dog everyday.But, she is an adult and pees outside… Please enjoy your time with THE DOG.
LikeLike
“Aw, Puddles . . . Did you make an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, puddle-wuddle on Grammy’s very expensive, dry clean-only rug? Oh, you’re such a good boy, aren’t ju!”
Something like that, is it?
I must tell you that I am “literally” in love with my dog. In fact, on my blog I wrote an entire post entitled, “Annabella” in which I go into great and prodigious detail about my amorous affections. She is my angel, and in my eyes, the perfect canine specimen. However . . . this is because she really is the perfect dog — for me. She eats, she sleeps, she cuddles, she plays — on cue! Our first dog, a spazmastic malti-poo who entertained himself by dropping tootsie rolls all over the house and eating all of my favorite things. IE; my pearly pink blue-tooth, was a leviathan. You have my empathy. We happen to be in a living arrangement with our extended family. They have a Lab. She’s sweet as apple pie, but if we don’t get to the door in time to let her out, it’s not pretty, let me tell you. Her owner, my mother-in-law, then proceeds to coddle her with soothing assurances, and all the while, a big, steaming pile of feces is sitting right there in the middle of the living room. Unnerving. I’m not saying she should beat the blessed creature over the head with a frying pan, but couldn’t the coddling wait until after the poop has been removed?
Will be rooting for Sunday, as well 🙂
Oh, I’m not sure if you are one to go back and check return comments, so I thought I would just respond here. But in the future, just in case you don’t know — I didn’t, until someone pointed it out to me — there is a box that you can click to receive the follow-up comments. As far as the limited replies, unfortunately I don’t know how to help you with that one . . . While I can design a room and craft my heart out, the technical stuff, the codes and ancillary hoopla, I am plainly no good at. I would imagine you could change it by going into your settings, but beyond that, I wouldn’t know where to direct you. Anyway, RE: the Tutorial comment, thank you. Glad you enjoyed the pretzels. There. I’m done. No, I’m kidding . . .
You couldn’t be more right about life hurting us. On tougher days I think perhaps God made me incomplete. That He forget to give me that last layer of skin necessary for shrugging off criticism, or dismissing a tactless jab. A lambent reply is usually my response, and then on the inside my soul weeps. I crawl into the arms of my husband and talk about how much it all hurts. He brushes the hair away from my face and tells me that I was made this way for a reason, for a purpose, and then I know it’s the truth. Purpose. You, my Mollusk-friend, were too made this way for a purpose. This world needs our sensitive souls; without them, there would be a bunch of apathetic, jeering jerks walking around, insulting people, none the wiser. I learned three very important words a few years ago. I use them sparingly and with prudence. Not everyone “gets” it, and that must be taken into consideration. “You hurt me” You tell the right person that and they learn, and hopefully next time they will be more careful when dealing with Mollusk-people.
Have a wonderful day, my friend.
LikeLike
Cara,
My goodness I am so excited to see you commenting on George’s blog. You and George have both offered such amazing comments on my work this week and could not help but be reminded of each of you when I read the other’s comments. There is something in the water this week ladies and I am so glad we have all been drinking it. Do you guys know all the amazing similarities between the 2 of you?
I am in awe of this and certainly closer to the divine than I was a week ago. Wow!
George, my apologies for the public forum I usurped here.
Wow!
LikeLike
Michael!
I admit . . . I was a little shy about commenting extemporaneously on George’s blog, but . . .when I read what she had to say to you — darn her for insisting you delete that comment. I tried to show my husband and “poof!” gone. — about your post, the truth and insight about life in general, I was provoked, and knew I had introduce myself to her. Come to find out, she knew of ME! For I, I am Mollusk girl! A title I wear with both pride and humility 🙂
I agree . . . something in the water, indeed. I’ll save more about what I have to say about you specifically for your blog, but you and George are quite honestly most cherished recent readers added to the list of meager followers of This Little Light. In fact, I told my husband last night, “I don’t want to post anything because of the incredibly in depth, intelligent individuals reading what I have to say.”
A Divine intervention, most definitely. There is something to be said about face to face conversation; the intimacy is unmatched; however, I am in awe of what has transpired in a matter of just a few days, all by way of written communication. There is no limit to His reach.
LikeLike
Amen
LikeLike
Cara, perhaps George might share that piece she wrote one day with you. I feel like we are the “Three Muse-Keteers” this week
LikeLike
Now how could a precious face like that be the cause such splendid vitriol?
LikeLike
Ha ha, good story. My brother’s dog visited recently and is shedding early this year. It’s been a while since I vacuumed dog hair everywhere.
LikeLike
HA!
Sounds like a little pampered terror, he does. But this too shall pass. 🙂
LikeLike
… I don’t suppose they left a dog pen for you, so you can give him timeout?
LikeLike
I have three civilized dogs of my own. I have a crate for Maxwell. I don’t have the heart to make him stay in it. I wish I did!
LikeLike