Wednesday, March 18, 2009

King of the Hill

The Matron understands that she must be paying some karmic debt. Frances from first grade? Yes, Wee Miss was soooo jealous of your apparently perfect life that even though she KNEW that Jason -- not you -- threw the pickle in the mashed potatoes, Wee Miss said not one word when the lunch lady made you, not Jason, stand in the corner.

As an adult, Young Miss and later the Matron has coveted yet again. Lotsa stuff.

She's sure that envy is at the root of her current Situation because every day, when she sees happy people walking their dogs--smiling, sane sorts who dangle leashes after dogs happily padding and panting--she experiences white flashes of jealously. She wants that dog!

Morever, she wants to know why God-Oprah-Allah-Buddha-Universe saddled her with this.


Let's consider today's fun with Satan's Familiar (he has a given name but it is bad luck to utter or type).

First, last night, his delicate bowel structure required night-time elimination. No, he didn't wake anyone to go outside. He eliminated in the hallway. His return to Scarlett's bed required nudging the daughter awake in order to be allowed back in UNDER the covers at her feet, where he returned.

But Scarlett now could not sleep and she called out to her mother, who tiptoed, bare of foot, into the hallway.

Squish.

Be damned Oh Cloven One! Why hath thou darkened her bright door? Was it the time she sat on the swing just before Bethany Rogers got there?

In the morning, S. F. and Jekyll were given their separate bowls of food. The minute the Matronly back turned, the hench men thrust his snout in the geriatric dog's dish and started gobbling until the Matron threw him back to his own chow.

Done? Off that dog ran to find some shoes, purses, or expensive clothing to chew.

While the children were at school, the Matron thought the house oddly quiet. She went into the kitchen to find that damn dog --- calmly, happily, sitting ON the kitchen table, looking out the window. With the loaf of bread from breakfast half-eaten, at his leisurely side.

Because Satan's Familiar's eating disorder means that he has gone from 14 lbs to 100 during his two years of Matronly torture, she took him with her on her four mile run. This meant he would stop, dead and without warning, directly in front of her for no reason whatsoever about ONE MILLION times to test her hurdle skills. When the gymnastics bored him, he ran through the weeds and came out, cowering, in an equal number of burs.

Which the Matron had to pause - for a very long time- her run to remove, one by one.

If the Matron wasn't sick of Satan by now, this evening, Merrick decided to put the dog in the lovely nylon and canvas portable kennel that the Matron bought for Grandma Mary.

Satan's Familiar ate his way out. Oh, he's a keeper. He didn't just chew one exit hole, but ripped the thing apart at its seams in three different places.

Doesn't he look sweet?


Right now, he's snuggled at Stryker's feet, deep under the covers. The children, souls long sold, have a bitter, competitive rotation, in which each will bribe, bargain and beg for one extra night with Satan.

Who will undoubtedly demand night time elimination, after eating four bowls of food the neighbors left on their porch for the feral cats. Check in about 3 am for the fetid update.

20 comments:

smalltownmom said...

Oh dear, that's cryptic.

Minnesota Matron said...

Honey -- you saw the mistake! The single line she accidentally posted.

witchypoo said...

Next to actual student email, I think that Satan's Familiar is my favourite. Yes, I'm Canadian, stop already with the spell check underlining.

racheld said...

Perhaps one Pollyanna word might help you to feel better about the whole thing: COLD.

The timeline between his getting up to do his business and your DD's calling you when he got back into her bed seems to say it was immediate.

You haven't lived til you've encountered COLD poop beneath your bare foot. In the dark, on a nice rug, so you had to hop to the tile so as not to contaminate another spot.

M said...

Just as I think we are ready for a dog I go and read something like this...

M said...

Oh look! Canadians spell favourite correctly too.

Ulrike said...

Getting up very, very early to make his morning coffee couple of weeks ago, my son saw Dog's toy stuffed monkey on the kitchen floor. In the half-dark, he gave it a kick.
Only it wasn't the monkey, was it? Splat. Over foot and wall.
Dog had apparently been unable to wake anyone to let him outside to do some urgent business.
So in this house, we really feel for Matron. Not pleasant. Especially when in a half-sleep daze.

Mary Alice said...

I have Satan's brother. Oddly enough they don't look like family...but certainly their personality is sooooo similar.

Kelly said...

You are a saint. This dog would have been banished from my home long ago.

Lynda said...

Satan's Familiar posts are my favorites... love that dog!

thefirecat said...

Yeah. Love that feeling between my bare toes. Mine's usually cat. The one time the dog did it, she couldn't help herself. She was ill, and had tried to wake us, but we just thought it was a 5:00 playtime ruse. I cannot describe the magnitude of the fiery lake a hundred-pound malamute can create, nor do I wish to.

Is SF part Irish wolfhound? He's starting to look the part.

thefirecat said...

@ racheld: For some reason, I find the fresh, warm stuff to be much more disturbing.

Amy said...

I feel your pain. But there is such a fine line between love and hate when it comes to these fur babies. Best thing we ever did was start our 2 puppies in metal crates. Contains all their night time accidents. I threaten our geriatric mutt that I am throwing her in one. Especially those nights where you can see that she ran to everybody's rooms to let them know she had a serious case of the runs and left a trail throughout the house. And let's not forget that I put in wood flooring to help bypass some of this mess and she still chooses my rugs as her place to go.

Anonymous said...

Psssttt!!! Your 'grey cloud' older post link on the right is dead.

~annie said...

I think Satan has some relatives in Virginia. They live at my neighbor's house. But he doesn't seem to care.
Because he has trained them to "go" mostly along my property...

Minnesota Matron said...

About an hour ago, a neighbor rang the bell with S.F. under his arm. Dog had been six blocks away. Nearly got rid of him! Now, he and Merrick are playing under my chair while I type. He is glue to the Matron!

Minnesota Matron said...

hi anonymous: I need to remove gray cloud. It was one of my best posts and got a 50 comments but it was about my mother, who is now one click away from my blog. Send me an email address and I'll email it (I'm that vain).

MJ said...

Thanks for the reminder: I'm not ready to be a pet owner and a child-keeper! You have much more patience than me!

Jaywalker said...

We're in weird synchronicity at the moment. I did a shaking fist at the sky post about the weepette yesterday too. Oh, and this morning it shredded a large basket all over youngest's bedroom so I am just waiting for it to vomit wicker all day.
Courage.

Kelly said...

Since writing a post not too long ago about my desire for a pet, I am now rethinking this just a bit.

And having stepped in an unseen pile of doo myself, barefoot...let's just say I get it.