So last night must have been raccoon smackdown in my neighborhood, because the dog would not shut up. I wanted to strangle him. Now, don't get me wrong. I love me some Scrappy Doo. God knows I put up with a lot from that dog. I have loved him through all of it--from "accidents" on the floor to tearing up the garbage all over the house some kind of trash frenzy, so no notes on how politically incorrect it is for me to say I want to kill me some wiener dog, because if I were really gonna kill him, I would have done so LONG before now.
And I can also hear people clucking, saying I should have trained the dog. Trust me, we tried. Hims is a dachshund. A stubborn, underground, pissing, crapping, sleeping hound in miniature. A hound that resisted training. We put him in the kennel at night now so we don't have to worry about his strageically-placed-right-where-we step-on-our-way-to-the-bathroom-accidents. So he barked batshit crazy at the coons from his kennel.
Anyhoo. THAT is why I am blogging at 3:30 am when I should be ASLEEP.
The dog didn't care that I have to finish up a presentation today. The dog didn't care that I have to make a cake for book club this evening, or that I have to go to work, write a chapter or put a roast on. All he knew was there was a RUCKUS out front and, dammit, someone should let him out so he could TAKE CARE OF IT!
Starbucks doesn't open until 5:30 so I can't even go and work. Someone is going to be Grumpy McGrump today.