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Archive for April 2nd, 2014

Apparently, many.

At 4 am, Yarn Rascal decided he needed to go out and woke me by licking my eyes. Getting licked on the eyes when sleeping and dreaming about space creatures invading is not the most gentle awakening, but it did get the heart pumping and moving the oxygenated blood to all limbs.

Walking down the stairs in bare feet, I stepped on what felt like a bone. In a panic my mind interpreted it as Yarn Rascal’s leg. A slight ankle sprain, and a quick slide down the stairs on my rear end cleared any remainder of sleep from my head. Yarn Rascal had left his favorite new bone on the stairs and I…well, it wasn’t Yarn Rascal’s leg after all.

Wide awake we went outside. While Yarn Rascal piddled around I wondered if the bone on the stairs was intentional. Does he have the capacity to think of trying to kill me? If he were a cat, maybe. I was quite friendly with a cat who systematically attempted to do in each of his cat sitters. But a dog? I quickly run a review of the previous night through my head to see if there was a moment when I might have done something over which he’d hold a grudge. I come up with nothing. Yarn Rascal completed his rounds and inside we went.

Unfortunately, I am the type of person who once fully awake can’t get back to sleep. A 4 am wake up leaves a long day looming on the horizon. With the Skipper still sleeping and Yarn Rascal blissfully chewing the bone that almost killed me, I decided to tend to my house plants, a quiet chore. Some of my plants came down to me from my grandmother, like my African Violets. Ancient clay pots that have character hold almost every plant I own. I picked one up by the rim to check if the plant needed watering. Suddenly, the bottom half of the pot detached itself from its upper half. Plant and moist potting soil dropped from a height of 4 feet (1.2) meters can make a mess over an impressive distance, especially on a white rug. Ever at the ready to be helpful, Yarn Rascal arrived on the scene and began eating the potting soil. I finally corralled and removed him from the scene making a mental note to have the vet do a complete blood workup to see if the dog is lacking nutrients. Otherwise, why would he eat potting soil? The quiet chore ended with the vacuum.

Not realizing that I needed to quit and return to bed, I went to make breakfast. I opened the kitchen drawer for a spoon and the handle came off in my hand. I searched everywhere I could think of for a screwdriver to put the handle back on but couldn’t find one. What does that man do with the screwdrivers? So I left the handle in the middle of the counter and the drawer ajar to make sure The Skipper wouldn’t miss either of them.

I proceeded to make breakfast. I opened the new box of granola, pulled out the sealed bag inside and went to gently tear it open. The bag exploded. Granola spilled over the counter, into the open drawer and to Yarn Rascal’s great delight all over the floor. What could be better than a little granola to go along with the potting soil he ate? I corralled him, removed him from the scene and cleaned up the mess.

In the shower the ceramic thing I hang my wash cloth on is cemented into the tile wall. It’s there for hanging wash cloths to dry. It’s been there, sturdy as a rock, for years. After I finished showering I gently put my wash cloth on it and off it fell clattering and splintering into pieces in the tub. Immediately I heard Yarn Rascal whining, clawing and jumping at the bathroom door, trying to get in. He just can’t stand the fact he might miss an opportunity to ingest something he shouldn’t have.

Undaunted by the clear message the universe was sending me, I decided to venture into the world, keep my doctor’s appointment, and food shop.

Seriously, I should have stayed in bed.

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