I am neglecting my blog. Sorry about that, it isn’t that I haven’t had wicked awesome ideas for posts, because I have. So many in fact, the idea factory is a little clogged. I am just really missing having my own computer at home, when I have solid down time. Steve is nice enough to let me borrow one of his two computers, but it isn’t the same. So me day, I will be computing with the best of them at home. (By computing, I mean interneting.)
What a fun filled week/end I had! Last Thursday my sister made it to 28 years old, which was awesome. My gift was an uberly cool girly bike with a sweet basket in front. She was so very excited to see it. She squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. It was NOT what a grown 28 year old woman should do, but I let her have her fun. (Just kidding Chrissy , jump away!) But when her husband came home and saw what I got her, he was slightly sad. Because, he too had purchased her a bicycle with a basket, and a horn. She didn’t jump or clap for his present. I felt bad.
Crystal decided to keep both, since that meant she could drag along an additional adult rider. So we all took turns trying out the new bike. It was bigger and beefier than the one I got her. I had fun playing with it, until I made my way back down the driveway to the garage. My dog had been chasing me. He kept behind me for the most part. He is a 9 month old dachshund, and not the brightest crayon in the box. As I slow myself down to make sure I don’t crash into anything, my dog speeds up to run right in front of me. Of course the second I yell at him to move he slows down and when I scream that if he doesn’t move, I will run over him, he stops. Dead . In. His. Tracks. I can’t do anything because he is already under the front tire of the bike, yelping.
Immediately I hopped off to assess my smooshed dog. I expected blood, and other gross things. I mean, I RAN OVER MY DOG with a HUGE bike!! (I know it isn’t the same as a car, but I am built like a Mack truck. Add a bike, and we might as well be a Ford Fiesta in comparison to my dog’s size.) I picked him up, and checked him over. Thank goodness, nothing broken or bleeding. Crystal insisted his paw was broken, but it wasn’t. He was milking it for all it was worth. I still felt bad. So he got lots of sugars. Yet, I couldn’t help but think, “My dog is dumber than a stump!”
This is the same dog that didn’t even whimper when he stuck his face in an ant pile when he was a puppy. He came and sat next to me, and he looked like he had a sudden acne attack. He didn’t even bat an eye! He received a vinegar bath and a small bit of baby Benadryl that I was told would knock him out. This picture was just after the meds. He is awake, and I think 30 minutes later he was down on the ground chasing his cousin.
I love my dog. He is a brat, and thinks my nephew is a dog and nips at him when they play. He chews stuff up, and refuses to be potty trained fully. To add insult to injury, he released his “stink sack” in the process of being run over, so he had to have a bath. Also, he piddled a little on the cow hide rug in my sister’s house when my brother in law went to pick up him up. Hans was banned to stay outside during future visits. Hayden told me as we were walking outside, “Hans had a bad day today.”
He sure did buddy.