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Don't Bite the Hand That Feeds You. Seriously. Don't Do It.

I learned something new over the past several days:  dog bites hurt.

How did I learn this?  My damn dog bit me!

More than once.

There are a lot of things that I accept from having a dog, including peeing in the house, digging in the yard, lots of dirt on the floor, etc.  What I don't accept is my own dog biting me, of being afraid of my dog.

Ray, that little cutie patootie, had aggression issues, specifically with me.  While he never reacted badly with Matt, on more than one occasion, I only had to move towards him to send him into attack mode.

Ray, the little shit that bit me

He would charge across the room at me, like a lion hunting a wildebeest.  And like a lion, he aimed for the knees in an attempt to bring me down.  I hate to think what would have happened had he succeeded....

I am, of course, falling back on humor to defend against the fact that my heart is broken by the way that events have played out.  Because he stayed on such high alert with me, and I stayed on such high alert with him, it became very evident that this was not the right home for him.  And since he and Reynolds were a pair, we made the choice to return them both to the shelter (which was in the contract that we signed when we adopted them, that if there were any problems, we would return them to the shelter rather than give them away).

They were ecstatic to return to the shelter, which has become their home.  One of the volunteers at the shelter has basically adopted them herself, so we know that they are well loved and taken care of.  We are very sad that things did not work out with them, but my knees and my nerves are thankful that they are not under attack every day.

I miss the little guys.

Truth, As I Declare It

I was driving to work this morning when I got behind one of those trucks that hauls gravel or other construction materials.  You know, the ones that have the sign on the back that says "Not Responsible for Broken Windshields"?

source:  http://significantblog.wordpress.com/2011/08/

My thought was (as always when I get behind one of these trucks) "Really?  Just not responsible?"

It would be one thing if the sign read "We will not take responsibility for broken windshields".  That I could handle.  But this categorically states that they Just. Aren't. Responsible. Period.

Are trucking companies the only entities that can make a truth just by stating it?  You know, like Rene Descartes wrote, "I think, therefore I am" is there a corollary that is "I say it, therefore it is the truth"?

Let's ignore the internets for the moment, where truth plays no role, and just ponder the ability to make something A TRUTH just by declaring it to be so.

Here is what I would declare to be my Top 10 Truths (ignoring logic, science and evidence to the contrary):

1. Politicians are honest, scrupulous individuals, working for the best for the nation.
2. Chicken McNuggets are 100% real chicken and a nutritious and healthy, anytime meal.
3. I can drink as much as I want without getting a hangover, becoming obnoxious, talking too loudly or falling asleep by 7:30 PM.
4. Nice guys finish First (and second and third, but never last).
5. No one cares about Brangelina.
6. I have a beautiful singing voice.
7. There is no such thing as "bathing suit season".
8. People want to take accountability for their actions.
9. Restaurants cook their food with the same attention to cleanliness as I do in my own kitchen (which is a lot).
10. My tax money is being spent with care, forethought and in the manner that benefits the most members of my community, state and nation.

Yep, that'll do it.  And guess what Mr. Dump Truck Driver?  If I ever kick a rock up into your windshield, I am not responsible for any ensuing damage.  Neener neener.

Accidental Eavesdropping Is Never Good

Matt comes home.

me:  I can't wait to tell you what I heard at work today!

Matt:  It's going to have to wait until I change my clothes and I eat.

15 minutes later....

Matt:  Okay, tell me what happened.

me:  So, I'm sitting in the canteen this morning, working on my computer between meetings, and these two guys sit down at a table near me.  And this one guy is talking really loud.  I'm not trying to eavesdrop, really. I don't wanna hear what they're talking about, but he's so loud.  He's talking about going to the doctor, and he's talking and talking.  And  I hear him say, "And then the doctor's holding my genitals."  And I'm like, "Really?"

Matt:  Is that it?  That's kind of a let down.  I was expecting more after such a build up.

me:  Yeah, well, if I could have told you immediately after you came home, it wouldn't have been such a build up.

*silence*

me:  And the guy that he was talking to didn't say a word.

Matt:  It was probably his boss.  What could he say?  He had to listen.

me:  I mean, the other guy couldn't have cared about this guy's balls?  Right?

Matt:  I don't know.  Maybe it was like a warning.  Maybe the doctor was an eye doctor and the first guy was like, "Dude, don't go see this guy because an eye exam ends up with your dick in his hands."

Excellent point.  I would warn all my girlfriends if I went to the dentist and a speculum made an appearance.  I'm only "opening wide" at one end at a time.

RAY & REYNOLDS UPDATE

Where is Matt?  I think he's in the bathroom....