Husband cannot cut the dogs nails or give them a bath. He hates to cause them any pain at all. More than pain, he hates it when the dogs don’t like him. He leaves that stuff to me.
And Me? Well, I am a passive aggressive worrier about the whole thing. I will give the dogs a bath because they stink but I’ll worry about it for days before and then spend the hours after avoiding their eyes or throwing extra love on them. And you can just imagine how discipline goes around here. Husband yells and shouts and grounds them then cuddles them like they’re dying while I am wounded by every destroyed bed or disobeyed order as I worry that I’ll be eaten when they gang up together to take me out.
We are probably not the best parents to three dogs. Heck, no “probably” about it. We are pretty sucky at this ‘taking care of other beings’ so don’t judge us too harshly when you hear this
On Sunday, Pepper the Wannabe Cat caught a baby chipmunk. That’s all she did, caught it and then dropped it and walked away to find something else to catch. Dropped it and walked away AFTER she’d broken the poor baby chipmunk’s back, or so we think. He very well could have been in shock – or so something else that made him not want to move his bottom half. What do we know? We’re not doctors.
What followed then was a weird moral mess between Husband and me about what to do next. Do we kill it? And, if so, how? He wasn’t exactly a bug we could squish. And as foul as I can get with my language and how much I threaten to kill asshats that cut me off on the freeway, I am completely unable to kill a thing. Last year, I inadvertently murdered a pair of chipmunks by not emptying a bucket of water and I mourned for days. Then, when they were pissing us off with the hole digging and the dog teasing, I filled up another bucket, watched a chipmunk fall in – and then rescued it because I can’t kill things.
Except relationships. I’m very, VERY good at killing those suckers dead!
And if we didn’t kill it, what do we do with it? We’ve already rescued two miserable mutts this year; do we now add a broken chipmunk to the family?
And Husband? Well since Husband can’t even cut the dog’s toenails you can imagine how freaking useless he was in this situation. I ended up scooping broken chipmunk into a pot and putting it up on the wall out of reach of the dogs near the trash cans. Of course, not before Joseph had a good slobber with/over it as I was getting the pot. Apparently Joseph is also not helpful in these types of situations. Wet Broken Chippy in pot, we went with the best of all the possible scenarios and decided he was just in shock. Husband got some birdseed for substance and we left Wet Broken Chippy alone in the pot with a bit of straw for warmth to give him a chance to recover and get away.
And then we both spent the next few hours worrying about Wet Broken Chippy and trying not to think about him and debating the ways to off the guy if his back was indeed broken that didn’t involve either of us actually doing anything with a shovel or gun or whatever to execute him. When we checked on him a few hours later Wet Broken Chippy had moved out of the pot and into a drainpipe. We figured it was a mater of time before he was all chipper and off to torture the dogs again. Or became owl dinner for Owl who was watching this all go down from the other side of the yard. We patted ourselves on our backs for our sort of good deed and went on our merry way.
We, and others just like us, are the reason awful people are trying to run our world - passive inactivity.
The next morning, Wet Broken Chippy was gone. Eaten by Owl or healthily running about the yard happy, it’s for you to decide. But here’s what I think – Wet Broken Chippy was helped to his house by a few of his Chippy friends where he told the story of the big people and the little dog. The story of our evil doings spread throughout the chipmunk world, and resulted in the head of all the chipmunks putting a bounty our heads. Why do I think this? Because yesterday, while Husband was standing outside managing the chaos that is the dogs, a chipmunk ran past the bushes, past the dogs, and RAN RIGHT UP HUSBAND’S LEG.
Seriously, the dude was aiming for his face! Had it not been for the “CRAP! THERE’S SOMETHING ON ME! GET IT OFF!!!” white man dance that Husband did as the chipmunk reached his waist, Wet Broken Chippy’s revenge would have been complete and I would have a Husband without a face.
We are now sleeping with little knives and our bed is surrounded by buckets of water. If you don’t hear from us in a few days, please send police for a well check. Actually, send animal control first. There’s likely going to be a need for big nets…
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me