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Well, I made it thru the night alive…

May 5, 2009
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Most of you know about Clifford, our big red rescue dog that’s not super bright but people always want to take  him home because he’s so sweet. And the fact that he’s completely fixated on Jason. I’m pretty sure he’s gay. The dog, not Jason. Despite the fact that I am the one home with him and Abby and I have been voted “most likely to feed him pizza and other things he greatly desires but is not allowed to have” (really it’s an official award with crowns and everything), he pretty much cries by the front door all day until J gets home. That poses a problem when J travels.

I actually forever thought Clifford was truly the dumbest animal on the planet. He forgets where walls are and starts running and forgets how to stop on a regular basis. He also was apparently convinced that our fake Christmas tree was a gift for him:the inside restroom he\’d always wanted. But it seems his obsession with J beat out his challenged brain cells in the fact that in the morning when J takes Abby to school, Cliff stands by the front door until they are out of sight and then runs to the side kitchen window where he can briefly glimpse the truck for about 2 seconds. I never even figured out you could do that until I followed Clifford one morning to see what the heck he was doing.

So when J breaks out the suitcases yesterday, Clifford goes into a deep funk. Moping around and looking despondent. He probably would have been okay if I had been packing as well, but it really seems like he just can’t stand to be here without J-Ab and I are unnessecary extras. Plus, when we all leave he gets to go stay with my parents who feed him pretty much whatever he wants by the plateful.

Yesterday morning, Clifford was on the verge of suicide as J was loading his bags into my car. I think the only reason he didn’t fling himself in front of the passing school bus was that since my car was the one leaving, maybe I was as well. J tells me I’m ridiculous as “dogs don’t have emotions”.

I leave to take J to the airport, wondering if I should have hidden all the kitchen knives and prescriptions before I left.

Generally when you come home (read the royal you as in when J is with us or he simply comes home from work) Clifford runs to the front door wagging his whole body (impressive sight for a 100 plus pounds of mixed rottweiler) and forces you to pet him. When I come home from taking J to the airport, he’s gone for 5 weeks and I have been in too much fear for my safety to tell Clifford the length of the trip, he is laying in the kitchen doorway staring me down with a calculating “Bitch, I will cut you look”.

In retrospect, maybe I should have hidden the kitchen knives. But I did make it thru the night alive, largely due to Ab sleeping in the bed with me. Clifford is rather fond of her and I think would hate for her to witness her mother’s murder. By a crazed love-sick dog, no less. In lieu of death and dismemberment, Clifford pranced and cried around the house all night-every hour on the hour-demanding I let him outside for periods of at least ten minutes at a time “pretending” he had to pee. Clearly, the dog is much smarter then I thought and I may have preferred him smothering me in my sleep to the up and down sleepless night that he gave me. I take it back, that dog is a genius. Wonder what he has planned for tonight.

Either way, I’m putting away the knives and letting the kid sleep with me for the next 5 weeks.

© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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