Jan 26, 2013

My love/hate relationship with our bathroom

I finally woke up with morning without an agenda.  I have been home for exactly enough time as it takes to get a "good night's rest" for the past few days as I struggle to keep my sanity during our office move.

This morning?  I woke up "rested," and by rested, I mean a huge backache and it's lovely sidekick, good ole' headache.  My two furballs are ECSTATIC that I am home finally, enough to pet and push and shove them into behaving less like two wild banshees and more like civilized bulldogs.

PS- Those two words, civilized and bulldogs, don't really go together.  The best I can usually get is to wear them out enough so they sleep in the same room, but the farting and drooling, and shedding and knocking each other over still continues.

Anyways, if you are like me, and have anything in your house that is under the age of 5, kid or pet related, you know that the bathroom is just another room in your home that everyone follows you to, closely underfoot, to make sure you can't get a moment to yourself to do something crazy like poop.

I feel like I accomplish more than necessary in that room.  This morning, for instance, I was able to keep the door cracked open slightly and toss a tennis ball for my youngest bully, in an attempt to wear him out and still take care of business on my end.  When I stopped playing with him, he managed to get said tennis ball stuck behind the toilet exactly 4 times and each time, as he is too fat to shove his sausage body behind the toilet to get it, barked loudly until I contorted my body around, while STILL POOPING, and grab the slimy drool ball for him.  He would then pick it up, "toss" it with his mouth back behind the toilet and commence with barking again.

When he is tired, he will simply sit down between my knees and place his sagging jowls into my lap while I pee.

If Asshole gets a chance to sneak in, he will typically sit on my feet while I finish up, and stare up at me with those big eyes of his, begging me to pet him.

As I have said before, our dogs, while coming to a general understanding of each other, will still break out in terrible fights from time to time.  I have had stop what I was doing, mid-business, and come out of the bathroom running, pants around my ankles, and Bayou has had to leap out of the shower, ass naked and dripping wet, to break up dog fights.  

Sometimes, being in that bathroom with the two of them is rather sweet.  If one of us takes a bath, the two dogs will sit along the side, next to each other, both heads perched on the edge of the tub, staring at us because we are just too far out of reach.  However, if Retard thinks we are taking too long in the tub, he will hoist himself up, and hover his massive football head over our bodies until we get the hint that our free time is up.

In the 8 years we have owned a dog or two, I believe I have had the luxury of time alone in the bathroom exactly twice.  And come to think of it, those two times I believe head butting of the door commenced within 5 minutes.  They will head butt the door since they can't knock....makes sense.

So that's my spiel about family trips in the bathroom, it's never boring, and never alone.  Ever.

Ain't no shame in my game.
Tbag. Out.