The Puppinator - aka "Snuff Doggy Dog"

The birds went absolutely crazy outside the office window this morning. A whole bunch of them. I thought it must be some sort of bizarre mating ritual, or a fight among the blue jays. Arnie was outside, but his involvement didn't even cross my mind as the area of the yard by the office is blocked off to his roaming at the moment. Or so I thought.

Awhile later, I realized I'd left the kid outside and should probably bring him in. I noticed that the temporary "blockade" to the aforementioned area of the backyard was ajar and he was way too quiet. As I peered around the corner, I saw the little assassin with a bird (dead) in his mouth. He put it down as soon as he saw me (unlike his deceased brother, Max, would have done) and came trotting into the main yard. He looked entirely too smug, however, with a tiny feather attached to his lower lip (reminded me of the old Sylvester the Cat cartoons, just after he's chomped down on Tweety Bird). I don't know if the kid actually managed to catch and kill the bird, or if the bird was a young'un on a training mission and had an unfortunate encounter with the fence. Regardless, the other birds were not happy with Arnie.

I brought him in - he appeared entirely too proud of himself - and went to the store. When I got back, he went outside again, and the birds started their angry chatter. Without thinking, I yelled out the back door, "Arnie! Inside! The birds don't like you. You're a murderer."

The things we say to our kids. He appears to be completely unscarred by the comment . . .

Hide and Seek

I hereby confess a guilty pleasure (and semi-aerobic activity). I frequently find myself playing hide and seek with the dog. For those of you who remember Max, this was his favorite game, and was MUCH more aerobic than playing with the Puppinator (aka Arnie). Arnie is still a novice, and seems to be not quite sure whether he should be having fun or be scared. When he's scared, he piddles, so I try not to press the issue. He's only 3-1/2, and Max romped with me well into his 15th year, so there's still hope for a bit more fun in our frolic. Dear God above, I hope I'm not the only fool who does this with their 4-legged child . . . Natey?!

More Class, But No Grass

We have been undergoing a rather massive landscaping project in our back yard. The end result is/will be worth waiting for, but it has seriously impeded my normal summer routine. Normalcy when school ends doubles as post traumatic school therapy and involves much planting and yard work. Not everyone enjoys this, but I do. Well . . . we've had rather an overabundance of rain here in the midwest, and this not only delayed the start of this project, but also the completion of same. While the landscapers began the Tuesday after Memorial Day,

they only completed the project this past Wednesday. I feel better now that it's done, and perhaps overcompensated with some rather back-breaking labor in the back yard for the past four days, but I will say that I FINALLY, on June 23, feel like summer has actually begun (even though it's actually almost half over for me). And please don't give me the summer solstice crap. I start back to school on August 11, so that just doesn't fly with me. In my few remaining days, I shall water and pray for the little blades of grass to emerge, so I can truly reclaim my yard, and the Puppinator can stop receiving almost daily baths and hose-downs.

Call Me Sucker . . .

I started a Facebook page. My Space never did a thing for me, and ostensibly, I only did this so I could better communicate with my choir students (even the tiki torch ruffians) and choir officers. I'm finding it scarily addictive. There are actually other ADULTS on it. It's really easy to catch up with folks you haven't seen in ages - you know, the ones you are interested in how they are doing, but you probably won't develop some deep reconnection with, but you can see they are alive, have kids of the 2 or 4 legged variety, developed a sense of humor (or lost it) since last you saw them, etc. And it really is easier for me to stay in touch with my students. This is the practical reason that is supposed to make me feel better about neglecting my blog for the more superficial Face Book (or My Face, as the Frau tends to call it).

Out of Control?

I had a stupid dream a week or so ago. Can't seem to shake it, so I'll share it here in hopes of purging it from my pea brain. The gist of it is . . . and this is really stupid, so be forewarned . . . I was in class with a bunch of my choir guys. They would not cooperate - had to ask them each individually to stand up to rehearse, etc. The next thing I know they are in a back room (instead of in rehearsal) playing lacrosse with my tiki torches. I do not know WHY the tiki torches were at school, so do not ask. I asked them to stop. They said, "Oh Doc, why not - we won't hurt anything." At which point I proceeded to cry, sob actually, and picked up the phone to call the principal and tell him I was totally incapable of controlling my class. Sobbing to the point that I was making whimpering noises in my sleep, and the Frau had to (mercifully) wake me from my torture. Any interpreters out there? By the way, I've never played lacrosse in my life, and don't know the first rule about it (except that I think you are NOT supposed to play it with tiki torches).