Tag Archives: dogs

And puppy makes 2

This past weekend I adopted a puppy.  I’ve been wanting to get one for the past few years and until I started living alone it didn’t seem like the right time.  So I’ve been looking for the past few months, and even sent a few emails out about some I liked but they never panned out.  Just when I was giving up hope, I saw this little guy on petfinder:

bruin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I mean how can you not love that face? Much to my surprise the rescue place that had him replied to my emails and we set up a time to meet.  I went to the meeting equipped with a leash, harness, and kennel for him to ride home in.  My mom and sister went with me to look at him and they ended up adopting his brother:

sooner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will say, it’s nice to not have to go through the “new puppy phase” alone.  The first couple of days were ROUGH.  He peed everywhere, like every 10 seconds.  He peed so much in fact that we (my mom and I) started calling him Whizzer. He cries every time I put him in the kennel, which is to be expected, but he never goes in without a yummy treat so if I were him I’d be looking forward to it.  He doesn’t like to go on walks, like whines and cries throughout the WHOLE thing, he’s a lazy bum.  He’s doing really well on the potty training though, since I got him to my apartment (the first night, Saturday night, we stayed at my parents so he could play with his brother) there have only been a few accidents. 

 The first night I had him alone (Sunday) I was ready to give up and ship him back to the rescue place, he’s cute and cuddly and I had no doubt he’d get swooped up in a second.  When it was bedtime and I put him in his cage he cried and barked for a solid half hour, when he finally did go to sleep he didn’t stay asleep long and got me back up at 3:45am.  I took him out and put him back in the cage.  Where he started barking again.   I live in an apartment and while dogs are allowed, I didn’t tell them about him because I’m planning to move in 3 months when my lease it up and didn’t feel like paying a $400 security deposit and $50 extra a month for pet rent.  So I’m a little worried that if he is constantly barking a neighbor will complain and I’ll get fined.  A few people at work gave me some pointers on how to get him to sleep through the night and go to bed without crying: put a hot water bottle and a ticking clock in his cage so he thinks a sibling or mom is in there with him, give him herbal calming treats before bed, don’t feed/water him 3 hours before bed, don’t let him nap from the time you get home from work until he goes to bed and cover the kennel with a blanket or towel.  I did all of these the last 2 nights and it worked! Monday night he slept from 10:30 to 6:15 and last night he slept from 10:30 until I woke him up to eat at 7 and only barked a couple of times when I first put him in his cage.  However, we’re still working on the no barking when I put him in the cage to just leave to go somewhere throughout the day. 

 I’m adjusting and things are getting better, I feel pretty tied down and like I have no life because I’m constantly on puppy duty.  I knew it would be a lot of work, but it is way more than I imagined.  None the less, I’m keeping him.  I know it will get better with time.

 The funny thing is that people at work are seriously acting like I had a child. They asked if I wanted a puppy shower, and ask me every day how he’s doing.  They’re making comments in meetings about how I’m a new mother, etc.  I just laugh and tell them that for about an hour each night I have postpartum depression and don’t want him.  Then I learned, this is a real thing. I just… have no words.

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Growing up is hard to do when you’re a single mother of 4.

Cheerio old chaps! Yesterday I started hysterically crying and kicked all the blankets off of my bed in a fit because I realized that in less than two weeks my adult life, as we know it, begins.  Most of my friends, including Lucky, have been out in the real world for a few years now, god bless them all.

I, on the other hand took not 1 extra year but 2 extra years to finish college.  I’m every guy’s dream girl. I am days away from maybe being a certified financial planner (fingers crossed I passed the test.) That’s not what I want to do though, I hate my life. Anyone wanna hire me? Please? Gizzy, CFP wants to work for YOU!

It really started to hit me the other day when I went to my dad’s humble abode so he could fix the hoopty. He says to me, “Hey Gizzy, when you’re not doing anything during the days you could paint that room.” As he points to the room that is at least a million square feet and covered in choo-choo train wallpaper.  I snapped back that I would be spending my days looking for jobs so his train room can suck it.

Then, I started to think about how depressing my life is going to be.  Right now, my day consists of working my 9ish to 5’er job at a prominent investment firm, (They don’t want to hire me full time, dicks.  Well, I don’t want to work there full time, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.) and then going out every night and getting belligerently drunk while on a hunt for HOTTIE or an equivalent match with Bri and acts gay but says he’s straight friend Adam.

But once I move home… the whole story changes.  It’s like I go from a fun spunky 20 something to 45 year old mom pants.  I’m going to be sitting on the back porch with my dad and step-mom sipping vino in our matching rocking chairs while we watch the horses graze the pasture and wait for our bacon grease from the morning to harden. Annd… that’s it.  That’s all I’ll be doing. Every. Single. Day.

Unless of course I decide to drive to my mom’s house, where I can watch i-Carly and play barbies till the cows come home with my 6 year old sister.  It’s what every 25 year old single girl that is fresh out the college scene is looking for in order to have a fulfilling life.

Other Things Turning into Mom Pants Made Me Realize:

-That I should invest in every color of high wasted bongo pants, so I can look the part.

-Instead of saving my monies to buy a home for my unforeseeable family, I’m going to make it my engagement ring fund. Since I’ll be purchasing one for myself before any man does.

-That I need to start using phrases when I answer the phone like, “Yello!” and “Talk to me…” to give myself more character.  It also wouldn’t hurt if I made my voicemail, “Hello?*long pause* Ok, I’m not really here AHAHA gotcha! Leave a message at the beep.”

-I need to get a wallet that has picture holders, so that I have a place to put all the photos of my children. When I see old friends at the grocery or the dollar store I need them to be easily accessible.

-I need to get pictures of some children.

-Found some. I need to sit down with my lawyer and plan out my will.  The hoopty will go to my oldest son – Bobby

My girl, Xiofeng, will get my old blackberry, my collection of douchearoo’s douchey emails, and what’s left of my liver.

And the twinsies, T’Sha’n and Frieda, can have my sunscreen, my cash, my rotisserie, and my bed

(UPDATE: The rotisserie goes to Lucky, as well as my high school diaries, my little black book, and my list of guys who are rumored to be tainted by the STID!  It’s actually std, but when I say it I say STID! Now you know for next time.)

– I need to make sure to pay the $1 to USPS to have my mail forwarded to hell. C/o Lucifer.

-Look into buying every color of the rainbow in lipliner. The 8o’s are back.  And the 90’s, they’re next. And in a decade when it happens and I am 55 and mom pants you best believe I’ll be looking good.

-That I lay out my collection of coozies and decide which is may favorite so that I am sure to always have it keeping my coors light ice cold.

-That since making this list of realizations I have realized that I am not only going to be 45 and mom pants; but white trash, 45, and mom pants.

-That I might not be able to throw back shots like I used to back in college, so I should always be sure to bring enough wine spritzers to parties to keep me as tipsy as the kids.

-That if I am going to be 45, a single mother of 4, and engaged to myself I should learn how to cook something other than tgi fridays mozzerella cheese sticks and spaghettios.

-That this list has gotten way out of control, and what I really need to do instead of blogging about how I’m going to be on welfare, is look for jobs in cool places that will allow me to send Bobby, Xiofeng, Frieda, and T’Sha’n to private school.

-Ok, I’ll do that now.

(2ND UPDATE: Right after I did the first update where I wrote Lucky into my will of misfortune, I felt something in my underwear scratching my butt. So I stuck my hand down there and pulled out the mystery butt scratcher.  It was a starburst wrapper.  I can’t tell you the last time I had or have even seen a starburst.  The time. Is 4:13 a.m. And I am utterly disgusted/confused.)

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