Tonight, as I was preparing my Weight Watchers-friendly dinner consisting of chicken Marsala, mushrooms, broccoli, and roasted red potatoes (hungry yet?) and I had a little mishap with the oven. It started when I went to get the chicken out of the oven and my thumb went over the potholder and touched the 450-degree pan. I screamed, dropped the chicken pan, which subsequently flew into the coils, caused sparks, and then splashed a piece of chicken out into the bottom of the oven. Meanwhile, my mushrooms were going from brown to black and my water for steaming the broccoli was boiling like crazy. As I tended to my burnt thumb and the rest of the meal's components, the chicken that had fallen on the bottom of the oven started to burn. Soon, the smoke alarm was shrieking and I was running around turning on vents and opening windows. Don't ask me where Guy was in the midst of all of this.
Finally, after I had gotten everything back to normal and dinner was served, we sat down to eat and noticed the lack of a certain bearded black monster who usually sticks her nose right into our plates before we get the chance to take a bite. We looked all around for Lola and she was nowhere to be found. Usually we don't even have to call her before dinner - the plates clinking is enough to attract her to the living room, but this time, she wasn't even coming when I yelled her name. Finally we decided to check the basement for her in case she had gotten trapped in the garage (it's happened before). When Guy and I went down the steps, she reluctantly came out of our storage room, looking pretty shaken up. She then came upstairs and proceeded to lay her head down on Guy's lap, not paying any mind to the plates full of food sitting inches away from her soft black nose. Plus, she was shaking. This was totally unlike Lola, so we checked to make sure she hadn't gotten into any chemicals in the basement (she hadn't), and the only conclusion we could come to is that she had gotten spooked when the smoke alarm was going off and went into hiding in the basement.
As traumatized as she seemed, it was actually sort of cute to think that she hid out down there, not to mention that we now know how to keep her from begging for scraps!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Lola's Lecture, AKA -- A Post for Jerod
Throughout the past six months or so, Guy and I (mainly I) have undertaken the task of tearing up all of the carpet in our house that has been desecrated by our lovely little beast we call Lola. No matter what we seemed to try, from teaching her to ring bells on the door to spending a fortune on Sears carpet cleaning, Lola refused to stop relieving herself on our plush beige carpet. So, in an effort to deter her disgusting habit, we tore up the carpet bit by bit and replaced it with cheap vinyl tile. Every time we got another section of flooring torn up, Lola moved her favorite potty spot to any remaining carpet she could find.
This past Sunday, we removed the last of the carpet from our master bedroom. The only place where our floor is still cushiony under our feet is the downstairs entry and our walk-in closet. Guy made a comment that we should make sure to close the closet door, lest Lola deem it her new toilet.
Well, Monday came and went, and when the girls arrived home after a long day at Camp Bow Wow, no one let them out to go to the bathroom. At bedtime, I marveled at how cute my two little puppy girls are, having put themselves to bed in the spots where Guy and I usually lay. Then, my eyes fell to the closet door, which had been left open during the day. We are stuck in an old routine and unfortunately, so is Lola. There on the carpet was the tell-tale dark, wet spot. Lola had done it again!
It was at that point in time that I decided Lola needed a lecture. I looked at my little bearded sausage there on the bed, took her head in my heads, and said, sternly, "Your daddy was right about you! We've raised you from a pup and this is how you thank us?" Then Guy, arriving on the scene, decided to add his two cents in. He said, "Yeah, we're your parents. Don't think you can treat us like your little friends down the street!" We were both very pleased with our recollection of parenting cliches. Lola, on the other hand, met us both with her usual blank stare. However, until that day when we do decide to bring human children into the house (hopefully not any time soon), we will get wonderful practice giving good talking-to's to our canine kids.
This past Sunday, we removed the last of the carpet from our master bedroom. The only place where our floor is still cushiony under our feet is the downstairs entry and our walk-in closet. Guy made a comment that we should make sure to close the closet door, lest Lola deem it her new toilet.
Well, Monday came and went, and when the girls arrived home after a long day at Camp Bow Wow, no one let them out to go to the bathroom. At bedtime, I marveled at how cute my two little puppy girls are, having put themselves to bed in the spots where Guy and I usually lay. Then, my eyes fell to the closet door, which had been left open during the day. We are stuck in an old routine and unfortunately, so is Lola. There on the carpet was the tell-tale dark, wet spot. Lola had done it again!
It was at that point in time that I decided Lola needed a lecture. I looked at my little bearded sausage there on the bed, took her head in my heads, and said, sternly, "Your daddy was right about you! We've raised you from a pup and this is how you thank us?" Then Guy, arriving on the scene, decided to add his two cents in. He said, "Yeah, we're your parents. Don't think you can treat us like your little friends down the street!" We were both very pleased with our recollection of parenting cliches. Lola, on the other hand, met us both with her usual blank stare. However, until that day when we do decide to bring human children into the house (hopefully not any time soon), we will get wonderful practice giving good talking-to's to our canine kids.
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