Monday, September 11, 2006

Chihuahua verses cat...

let the battle commence!
I find myself this gloomy grey morning minding Etheline's nine month old chihuahua Poppy's Big Surprise -shortened to Angel- lengthened back to Poppy's Big Surprise and now currently just plain Toffee, or as the rest of the family call her- thatneuroticbarkingattentionseekerjustlikehermother.
I will be minding this dog for the next two days while my sister and that Kevin take a much deserved break over in the west of Ireland. My mother has had Toffee since Saturday, but her aged King Charles can't cope with the stress of a much younger and hyper active dog galloping about, so apparently it is my turn to share in the delight that is puppyhood.
'But I can't mind her, I have deadlines!' I cried this morning when the Lilac One arrived and handed me the basket (containing said dog) a bag of toys, a food bowl, a sheepskin bed and a sack of food that would have kept a two-man polar expedition going for a month.
'I don't care, she's driving me up the walls. I can't have her upsetting Bobby Ewing like that.'
'But what about-'
'Don't even think about it.' My mother warned. 'She has three children to run round after and this one,' she shook the basket, 'bit the boy last time she was out there.'
'But I have three cats!'
'Here.' My mother thrust the basket into my hands and scurried for the lift with nary a backward glance.
All righty then.
I peered though the basket door at a bulbous pair of brown eyes. 'Hello there Toffee. Be good for Auntie Fatmammycat now, okay?'
I put the basket down on the floor and opened the door. Out crept the tini tiny brown thing, shivering, nervous, terrified. Oh poor thing, two days with my mother will do that to a girl. Maybe this won't be too bad, I reasoned, watching her sniff the air and come running to me on her tini-tiny legs, after all, I said to myself, she's just a baby...
So far this morning I've watched that 'baby' bark and charge after the cats, attack an old and much loved leather cushion, attack the post, puke up the top of a pen, attack and destroy a roll of toilet paper, attack the red pastic ball she carries around much of the time, growl at the only plant still alive in the apartment, attack and shred to pieces a small wind up blue furry mouse belonging to the bigger of the cats, vomit up a puddle of blue furry slurm, jump on Puddy, who adores Toffee and tries to clean her when ever she claps eye on her, (Puddy loves dogs and regularly used to sit on the doberman's head and wash his whole face, don't ask) chase the bigger of the cats, who is stiff-legged with disgust and double his normal size, chase the one-eyed one, who is now on the top of my wardrobe, chase herself around in a circle and now here I am, not even showered, with this wriggling ball of energy sitting on my lap while I type with one hand and hold a Savlon covered rag to the rather severe scratch the bigger of the cats gave Toffee for mistakenly thinking sticking her big snout under the bed was a bright idea, with the other.
I"m exhausted. Two more days of this?
Is it illegal to crush of sleeping tablets and give them to very small dogs that should really live in Mexico? Does that really come under the heading of animal endangerment?

24 Comments:

Blogger Springfield said...

i've heard a bit of cough medicine in the water generally takes care of the problem. best of luck, those little dogs can be the worst.

1:03 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Thanks Springfield. I've locked her in the basket. I think she is finally asleep. Sweet Chulutha, that thing is a total head case. Puddy is sitting on top of the basket asleep and cooing to herself.
I rang my mother to complain and she said 'well now you know what it's like to have small children hanging out of you all day.'
'Did you lock us in a basket too?'
'No, boarding school.'
Vicious harridan.

2:50 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

You are a saint for putting up with this 'dog' for your sister.

...wait...Bobby Ewing????

Now that's just hilarious.

4:52 p.m.  
Blogger finn said...

don't let these experiences at all reflect on your (future) Batman.

there are no such things as bad dogs...

boarding school. heh.

5:51 p.m.  
Anonymous Twenty Major said...

Couldn't your mother just have kept the cat in one of the folds of her enormous belly?

5:52 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

It's a dog Twenty, and she's not fat, she's 'big boned'. Anyway, shut up. Remember the Italians?

6:08 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Andraste, Etheline doesn't know I have her yet and yes,Bobby Ewing is the name of my mother's spaniel. I swear to all that I hold dear. We were all trying to at least call him Duffy, but she was having none of it and when she's cross with him all you here is 'Bobby Ewing, you stop that this moment!' or 'I was down there with Bobby Ewing the other day.'
And she wonders why people think she's half cracked...
Don't worry Finn, Batman will be nothing like this pint-sized pip squeak, Batman will be as cool as cool can be. He won't shiver for a start.

6:12 p.m.  
Blogger Kim Ayres said...

vomit up a puddle of blue furry slurm

Has Monstee been visiting?

6:35 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Christ no, if Monstee had visited I suspect Poppy's Big Surprise might be Monstee's Big Snack.

6:58 p.m.  
Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

"Does that really come under the heading of animal endangerment?"

Animal management, I think. I knew of a woman in Minnesota who thought of it as child management too: Kid just wouldn't go to sleep? Bung her some Benadryl. Going on a long car journey? There must be something in the medicine cabinet somewhere...

Savlon. I miss Savlon. America doesn't make anything that smells that extra cleancleanclean way Dettol does. There is a wee british/irish shop in town and I regularly clean them out of Fruit Gums, Taytoes and Dettol. But no Savlon.

9:20 p.m.  
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