Rosy futures full of...
dog hair and imaginary children. Yippie!
Doctor Maroon is alive and well and Saturday looks very cheery indeed. It is another strangely warm and sunny day in Dublin and I slept velly velly gud last night, thank you. I admit there was some gin drunk, but not much and no sleeping tablets.
Apropos of nothing, 'cept Docky's comment in the comments, I am going to pontificate for a mo. Mostly because I am delighted with myself this morning and mostly because...well, I don't need much of a reason really.
Doclington suggests I should get a puppy and freeze my eggs (just to be on the safe side). I laughed- but I do want a pup. The paramour should be aware at this stage that what baby wants baby sodding well gets one way or another.
Anyhoo, the paramour would like to have children and I'm a great believer that dogs and semi-feral kids should be mixed. It makes perfect sense to me, that way you can train them/walk/wear out playing endless games of football and hide and go seek at the same time.
I shall get my imaginary children a black labrador who they will call Blacky or something equally original, although I will secretly call him Winston when their backs are turned or they are distracted by SpongeBob Squarepants.
Batman and Winston will be great chums, but Batman will be top dog and Winston/Blacky won't mind a bit.
Puddy will be delighted and can wash faces-children and dogs -as much as she pleases. The bigger of the cats and the one-eyed one will adapt and claw their way back to the top of the food chain eventually by dispensing vicious but accurately aimed swipes at delicate puppy noses and the bare arms.
My imaginary children will be robust little chaps and outside a lot. They will fight, climb trees, build hideouts, be able to ride a horse, be able to stand up for themselves without resorting to bullying or tell-tale tattling, (which will be much frowned upon) they will most likely be semi-filthy a good deal of the time, have knacker-tans all summer ( brown arm neck and feet, white everywhere else), they will use their shoes for brakes on their bikes and I won't cut their hair until I witness one run into a tree.
They will know that a doc-leaf helps with nettle stings, that foxglove is poisonous and that rosehip makes excellent itching powder.
I will insist my future imaginary children read and eat all sorts of 'weird' food that their friends don't. They will not be afraid to pull the head off a prawn and suck the gooey contents out. They will not know what a Turkey Twizzler is.
They will have a bed time which will be adhered to rigidly except for Friday and Saturday night. They will be polite to older folk, including their grandmother. They will adore their father and climb all over him the minute the poor Paramour sits down to read the paper, the Paramour will be dragged out to 'see' stuff every other second. He will not object to all this hauling around. Batman and I will exchange looks and retire to the kitchen that still hasn't been painted to eat strong cheese and Carr's water biscuits. My imaginary Children won't have a play station or a TV in their bedroom and will probably never have an allergy in their life.
I'm heading into town now to buy flowers and then I'm going to start preparing dinner.
I'm thinking yellow roses, I'm in a yellow roses sort of mood.
Doctor Maroon is alive and well and Saturday looks very cheery indeed. It is another strangely warm and sunny day in Dublin and I slept velly velly gud last night, thank you. I admit there was some gin drunk, but not much and no sleeping tablets.
Apropos of nothing, 'cept Docky's comment in the comments, I am going to pontificate for a mo. Mostly because I am delighted with myself this morning and mostly because...well, I don't need much of a reason really.
Doclington suggests I should get a puppy and freeze my eggs (just to be on the safe side). I laughed- but I do want a pup. The paramour should be aware at this stage that what baby wants baby sodding well gets one way or another.
Anyhoo, the paramour would like to have children and I'm a great believer that dogs and semi-feral kids should be mixed. It makes perfect sense to me, that way you can train them/walk/wear out playing endless games of football and hide and go seek at the same time.
I shall get my imaginary children a black labrador who they will call Blacky or something equally original, although I will secretly call him Winston when their backs are turned or they are distracted by SpongeBob Squarepants.
Batman and Winston will be great chums, but Batman will be top dog and Winston/Blacky won't mind a bit.
Puddy will be delighted and can wash faces-children and dogs -as much as she pleases. The bigger of the cats and the one-eyed one will adapt and claw their way back to the top of the food chain eventually by dispensing vicious but accurately aimed swipes at delicate puppy noses and the bare arms.
My imaginary children will be robust little chaps and outside a lot. They will fight, climb trees, build hideouts, be able to ride a horse, be able to stand up for themselves without resorting to bullying or tell-tale tattling, (which will be much frowned upon) they will most likely be semi-filthy a good deal of the time, have knacker-tans all summer ( brown arm neck and feet, white everywhere else), they will use their shoes for brakes on their bikes and I won't cut their hair until I witness one run into a tree.
They will know that a doc-leaf helps with nettle stings, that foxglove is poisonous and that rosehip makes excellent itching powder.
I will insist my future imaginary children read and eat all sorts of 'weird' food that their friends don't. They will not be afraid to pull the head off a prawn and suck the gooey contents out. They will not know what a Turkey Twizzler is.
They will have a bed time which will be adhered to rigidly except for Friday and Saturday night. They will be polite to older folk, including their grandmother. They will adore their father and climb all over him the minute the poor Paramour sits down to read the paper, the Paramour will be dragged out to 'see' stuff every other second. He will not object to all this hauling around. Batman and I will exchange looks and retire to the kitchen that still hasn't been painted to eat strong cheese and Carr's water biscuits. My imaginary Children won't have a play station or a TV in their bedroom and will probably never have an allergy in their life.
I'm heading into town now to buy flowers and then I'm going to start preparing dinner.
I'm thinking yellow roses, I'm in a yellow roses sort of mood.
posted by fatmammycat at 10:45 a.m.
28 Comments:
Sounds delightful! I wouldn't go with the black lab, though. They are STUPID dogs. With the offspring you're planning, you'll want a herding breed. Something not as destructive or "creatively helpful" as a border collie...maybe an Australian Shepherd?
with all due respect, andraste, my border collie's "creative help" doesn't extend much beyond breaking up the inevitable cat-fight in the wee hours of the morning.
of course, constant chasing of the B-A-L-L and neurotic tracking of every single mollycule flung by the B-A-L-L in its travels does calm a canine soul. so do the 5-mile runs.
FMC, your rugrats sound lovely. i'll take 2 please. they will eat everything i feed them and become world-class athletes, right??
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE border collies. They're my favorite breed. I just meant that if you don't keep them busy and using their brains, they tend to make stuff up. And sometimes what they make up, thinking they're doing you a favor...isn't. But they will keep the kids in a neat circle...
Wow. These really do sound like imaginary children!
Having a dog for your kids will be great. As Blacky, or Batman, will be a couple of years old by the time the first sprog arrives, your child will be about 12 when the dog has to be put down to put you out of its misery (but only if it's a mongrel - pure breds die earlier).
If your child was any younger, then you'd have to cope with the emotional difficulties of explaining death and/or the unfairness of the universe to a child unemotionally equipped to deal with it.
However, by the age of 12, your kid will be able to photograph the dead dog on his/her phone and text it to all his/her friends and it will be really cool.
Yeah, and maybe she'll be horifically burnt in an accident and her kids can take turns in rubbing soothing balms on the 98% of her body that's been crisped like Peking duck.
Weirdo.
Right Kim, thanks for that, lucky I have you to point out how horrible it might be for my imaginary children to have a pet.
Cheers.
Andraste hon, what do you reckon? I thought lab, cause nine times out of ten tehy might not bite once poked in the eye. Whatcha reckon? Blue Heeler? Some kind of pointer? (which might be very useful in a 'where are the kids boy?' way. Retriver? Poodle?
I don't know, really. If you want your kids to be safe from all kinds of weirdos, you may want something huge and scary, yet gentle with the tykes. Like an Irish Wolfhound...y'know, something they can saddle up and ride home...
Or golden retreivers are very gentle and good around kids. Though they're kind of yuppie and a bit played out.
The more I think about it, the more I think a nice old mutt is your best bet. Smarter than your purebreds, and as Kim pointed out, longer lived...
Go to a shelter and save one from the gas chamber and you also get a side order of gratefulness!
That might work, all the cats are rescue so I can't imagine a rescue dog would be much more work than them.
FMC said: That might work, all the cats are rescue so I can't imagine a rescue dog would be much more work than them.
Famous last words there fmc dear. Dogs are much much harder work than cats, trust me I have 2 rescue cats 1 rescue dog (and 1 rescue man but that's a whole other story)...the dog is seriously much harder work. Why? Well for starters she's a pain in the neck around other dogs so no hobnobbing at the dog park for us, you can't leave her at home if you go away for the weekend, she either ahs to come or be looked after by friends who probably have their own dog and will want you to return the favour except their dog is a feeak around cats so you can't or you have to lock te cats in the basement and they get pissed off and leave headless animals all over te house for weeks afterwars, your toddler finds them and says "Mummy birdie boo boo" handing you a decomposing baby bird ever so gently 'cos you've taught him to be gentle with animals especially small ones, and imploring you to fix it 'cos you're Mummy and Mummies can fix everything. The dog finds another one and plays with it for a while hiding it in your toddlers bed... you get so used to handling headless and occasionally torsoless small creatures that you don't even flinch anymore. Your child no longer believes you are omnipotent and the dog thinks the cats are just cool 'cos they kill things and get away with it. Sorry I've gone off on a tangent here, to get back to my original point dogs are hard work, like a child, good training for a child in fact, we started with fish, moved on to cats, then a dog and finally a child, each one got a little more neglected as the next evolution of small creature to care for moved in. That's fine with the cats who only grace us with their presence at feeding time anyway, not so good with the dog who still insists on being walked and paid attention to irregardless of fatigue, project deadlines, mental exhaustion and a 2 year old's bed time strikes.
Me? Feeling overwhelemed by my responsiblities - never!
Me? Wishing comments had a spell check - never!
Yikes Boliath, that made me tired and laugh at the same time. Mommies that are not omnipotent? Does such a thing exist? And are you going to start wearing lilac any time soon?
At 7:10, the proper time to be up on a Sunday. Who knew such a time existed?
Sorry if I caused offence yesterday, I was in a bit of an odd mood. Mind you to be called a weirdo by Twenty M feels like something of an accolade
That's okay, we've all have those days, no harm no foul Kim.
As for Twenty, for a man who flings the word 'cunt' around like confetti, weirdo is probably the mildest jibe I've ever seen him use.
I'll go out on a limb and say that Kim's comments yesterday had a ring of truth in them. Kids do learn about the whole 'circle of life' from witnessing the whole process of pets getting old and dying...it's morbid, but true. And it's best that they learn that not too early, but early enough... and have a healthy respect for death and dying than not...
I remember when I were a lass...my sister put euthanized my kitty because it had a throat tumor. I screamed and ranted and called her a murderer for years. Now I get it, but if that had happened when I was 12 as opposed to 7, it would have been easier to understand.
I thought he was juxtaposing young people of yesteryear with the streetwise little imps of today.
What's more I thought he was funny and not least because he over egged it just like I do.
Now he knows what I was trying to explain a few months back. Re Olivia.
Old crusty balls going on about 90% burns and Peking Duck was tongue in cheek as well, but he left his deliberately ambiguous because he fancies FMC something rotten.
It's embarassing.
Old crusty balls going on about 90% burns and Peking Duck was tongue in cheek as well, but he left his deliberately ambiguous because he fancies FMC something rotten.
It's embarassing.
heh
blem blem blem
Har, very good Twenty, god be with the days when a good blem was worth twenty sheckles and a yoghurt.
I had a dog put down when I was young Andraste and I built him a shrine in the shed out back(his collar was the central piece) Then one of my favourite cats died from cat flu and I smeared washing up liquid all over the windows of my bedroom because 'I didn't want to see the sky any more.' How the hell I'm not a pill popping actress I'll never know.
It's horrible losing a much loved animal. I'm a bloody adult and I've shed countless tears over Puddy and her condition, when she dies I will probably wear black for weeks and sniffle a lot.
Speaking of dogs, I'm just back from dog-sitting for my daughter's Husky who was just spayed. If my daughter refers to me as "grandma" one more time I'm going to scream....or just drink more.
I would highly recommend an Irish Setter, my dear. Shouldn't be too hard for you to come by one of those should it? They used to be rather stupid (the one I had when I was a kid was a major league lunchbox), but they've stopped all the in-breeding and they're wonderful now. Mine is quite clever and absolutely fantastic with kids. She is a bit of a B-A-L-L junkie as well and I frequently end up with a rubber chicken on my keyboard if she's feeling neglected, but it forces me to get some exercise.
A mutt, I'd say. The vet's bills might be cheaper if you don't have to deal with species-specific diseases. Plus, for your kids, it'll truly be a dog like no other.
I have a soft spot for labs because they're so gentle and doofusy and I had one when I was wee. We had a rough collie and a border collie that were smarter but smart dogs need to be working to be happy, or at least out most of the day (your new place sounds like a good doggy spot); a lab will let you pretend it's a motorbike and never complain as you rev its ears going nyowrrrrrrrrrrrr! all day long.
Doccy's heart is yet yours though, fmc. I flung myself wantonly and drunkenly at his commentbox in a drunk and amorous comment spree the other night, but he was unmoved and I was left a poor wretched thing indeed.
I believe I flung myself wantonly at a number of my epals that night, however, and know only a very little shame for it. I was drunk, the moonlight cast itself in a certain kind of romantic puddle of love around my laptop, (you know, THAT kind of romantic puddle not the damp-spot love puddle kind, although that would certainly have been an accomplishment for the moonlight), whispering to me of the sparking, sparkling neurons I love all over the planet. Well mainly North America and Europe. And it was the afternoon so there wasn't really any moonlight. I guess I'm not the sort of gel to need it.
I'm affirmedly the O Gaaawd, I love you! I REALLY love you! kind of drunk. It's pitiful.
A tragedy of Shakespearian proportions.
Last night, I had the world balanced, delicate in its fragile complexity as a snowflake in my hand.
It all seemed so right.
There would be a Utopian movement. There would be room to breath, to soar, to live!.
There would even be a run out the back for Twenty Major and Batman.
There would be plasma screens to watch Arsenal beat Man U where Celtic could only manage a respectable defeat…excuse me a minute…It’s OK…I’m fine…forgive me.
Where was I? Oh yes,
And this morning, I find the snowflake has melted in my clammy palm, leaving only ashes and bitter gall in my mouth, although that could’ve been the plum brandy.
Aye, ‘twas ever thus. The honest man, free with his generous heart, will forever be trodden under the 6” stiletto heels of womankind. He goes to bed emperor of the world and wakes a pauper, having lost all he held dear.
Women. They’re all poison.
Serves you right for hooring around.
He He Doccy, the demon booze - the temporary omnipotence is a heady thing!
FMC - The best dog in the world is a Rhodesian Ridgeback - it guards, loves and cherishes it's owner and all the family with a dogged (!) devotion. Its a nice medium size and it is highly intelligent - I swear, it understands everything you say and do - the smallest nuances, your body language - and you'd only need one dog - a sort of "one size fits all". It's also good for networking, and everybody want to know what breed it is when they see its unique markings. A definite keeper!
Yeah but do they not eat babies?
Only chubby babies, Doc. Soft and chewy on the outside and crunchy in the middle -- that's how they like 'em!
Naah, doccy, in FMCs hands, this lovely doggy would be molten putty!
It's true you know, my dobermann was an absolute gentleman. Well behaved and very mild mannered, even in the vet's office.
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