You don’t want to bite ME!

February 14, 2006

You know you were waiting for it. You know you wanted to hear it. So here you go.

BITE

I have told you before that we have a Doberman, Harley. A Doberman who weighs nearly 100 pounds but thinks he is a tiny Chihuahua. No concept that he is large. And strong. And has enormous teeth that can rip a face off of a human being with nary an effort. And this sweet little dog (okay, he really is sweet, but not so little) is very protective of his “pack” (meaning us…the family). Especially the little angel he thinks is his. Gabrie is his little one to care for, to protect and to lavish huge, wet tongue kisses on. Rule Number One: Never mess with Gabrie.

Well, silly me forgot Rule Number One. She and I were playing and tickling and giggling. Well, Harley thought that I most certainly must be hurting her. Why else would she screech so loudly? (Well, dumb dog, because she is a girl and that is what they do. LOUDLY!) The next thing I know, he comes running to her rescue.

“Screwing around with my girl, eh?” was the look in his eyes.

I should have been warned. I should have seen it coming. But nooooo. I was taunting him by PLAYING with my daughter.

Enough was enough. As I lay on the floor engaged in a very fun tickle-fest with the little angel, Harley went into protective mode.

And Bit me. ON THE ASS.

Not hard enough to do damage. Not hard enough to even hurt. Just hard enough to tell me that I better leave HIS girl the hell alone and to stop right then.

I turned and looked at him and he looked back like “Well? Game Over, lady?”

Oh HELL NO the game is not over. I leaned towards him. Got closer. Looked into his eyes and said, “Is that really how you want to play this, DoberButt?”

And then…

Then I bit him back.

Let me tell you something. When you bite a dog and that dog recognizes you as one of the pack leaders, it really is quite hilarious. The shocked look on his face could only be described as “What the hell did you just do?” He didn’t run. Or yelp. (Hey, I didn’t really bite him hard. Just enough to get his attention. A love nibble. But not.)

He walked over to Gabrie. Sniffed her to make sure she was okay. And huffed away. I swear this dog HUFFED away. Apparently Dobermans are not the kind of dog who think it is appropriate to have their humans bite them.

Gabrie looked at me wide eyed and said, “Mommy, that was just so gross! Did you get hair in your mouth? Really, Mommy, you shouldn’t bite the dog.”

And so I was told. By a 4 year old. That Mommies should not bite the dog. Now I know.

But damn, it was HILARIOUS to see the look on his face. And I can also tell you for sure that he won’t be biting me again anytime soon. He also gets very nervous if I bare my teeth at him now.

Wimp! I didn’t even bite that hard!

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Posted by Jenn @ 9:31 am | Comments

Screamus Interuptus

September 14, 2004

By now you may have figured out that Tuesdays and Thursdays are my days. As in no one is home but me. I have been trying to be productive on these days. I have written (the book is coming along great!), I have touched up essays and queries for publications, and I have cleaned my house top to bottom. (Okay, that whole cleaning the house part is a lie, but I was on such a roll there I wanted to believe it myself.)

Anyway, due to my ever-present friend Mr. Insomnia, I haven’t been feeling like my usually energetic self. So today I decided to allow myself the luxury of a nap. Ahhhh, the joys of having freedom to sleep during the day and not fear waking up to a destroyed house or my face colored with a rainbow of permanent markers. Although, I didn’t want to totally check out for the day, so I decided to just crash on the couch. I would be able to sleep, yet not get into such a deep sleep that it was hard to get moving again. I was just after a refreshing catnap.

Excited at the prospect of uninterrupted sleep, I muted the ringer on the phone. I turned off all of the lights and television. Happily, I grabbed my favorite cozy blanket, my heavenly down-filled pillow and stretched out on the inviting couch. It wasn’t long before Mr. Sandman had me deep into my nap. I am talking about thoroughly enjoying the deepest kind of slobber-sleep one can enjoy during the day. Out cold. Dead to the world. (Getting the picture of how wonderfully and blissfully asleep I was?)

Only to be awakened by the most terrifying, blood curdling, heart stopping, fear induced scream I had ever heard! (This is not how I enjoy being awakened AT ALL!)

I want to tell you that I immediately jumped up off of the couch, flew into a fierce martial arts stance and was ready to face my attacker head on. I’d love to tell you how brave I was in the face of some unknown and terrifying danger. I’d like to. I can’t.

The truth of the matter is that I dove under my blanket like the chickenshit I am. I was shaking so much it probably looked as if I were having a seizure. Frantic thoughts began to race through my mind.

“Who is in my house and why are they screaming?” Oh holy hell in a hand-basket, they wanted me to be fully aware of what was happening to me before they inflict inhumane torturing on me! Oh for the love of all that is not going to kill me, why? Wait. “That makes no sense”, I thought to myself.

Perhaps a friend of mine thought it would be funny to scare the ever-living daylights out of me. I pondered. “Nah. No one I know is that mean.”

A million other possibilities raced through my head as I began to wonder if I ever told Clint where my will was and how exactly I wanted the children to be raised if I was ever brutally attacked by a screamer in my home. It began to dawn on me that before I fell asleep, I had set the security alarm. How did someone get in? Ohhhh, they are good. (Rational thought? Nah.)

Gradually I became a bit braver. First I peeked one eye out from under the blanket. I saw nothing. Then the other eye peeked. Finally, I went all out and uncovered my entire head. I saw nothing. I knew they must have been taunting me. Ever so slowly, I crawled off of the couch and crept around the corner to make sure no one was hiding in the kitchen with my set of cheap steak knives. (Cheap steak knives that better never go in the dishwasher or else–or so I am told.) No one there.

As I began to rub the sleep from my eyes, more rational thought began to slowly emerge.

What was the last thing I was doing before I fell asleep. Well, reading blogs of course! Hmmm, okay. What was my last thought before going to sleep? I have no idea. What was I dreaming about while I was dead to the world slobber-sleeping? Oohhhhhhh!

I was having a nightmare about sock-monkeys and scary-ass killer dolls. (Thanks eversomuch, Kristine.**) Are you with me, people? Have you figured this one out yet?

That terrifying, blood curdling, heart stopping, fear induced scream that awakened me and just about made me soil my pants while having a heart attack all at the same time…remember that scream? Yes, it was my very own scream. I screamed so loud and in such a terrifying way that I managed to awaken myself in such a horrific manner that I was ready to take on the armed intruder that I was sure was about to take my very life right there in the middle of the day, on my couch while I slobber-slept.

Apparently, not only am I not safe from Killer Curtains From Hell, I am also not safe from…well, myself. Hold me.

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Posted by Jenn @ 3:57 pm | Comments