The great actors are the
luminous furry ones.
Secondly, my favorite belt broke this morning and my new pants almost fell down at the reference desk. Just this morning I tried them on for M and boasted, "Look! They're just a little too long, but if I pull them up and cinch the belt, they're perfect!" So of course that was the belt's cue to commit suicide. I had to take a very early lunch and go shopping for a new one with my waistband clutched in my fist. As I slid my credit card across the counter I whispered urgently to the clerk, "Can you please cut those tags off? I want to wear it RIGHT NOW."
And thirdly, Whole Foods had the most gorgeous raspberries on sale yesterday, two for five dollars. Maybe you're thinking that since I was at Whole Foods, I bought two individual raspberries for five dollars. But no! Two whole containers. I almost fainted from the joy. I wanted to eat a pint right away, but I was on my way to the dentist. The raspberries sat on a chair next to the X-ray machine while I had my cleaning done.
Quick math problem:
If raspberries are two for five dollars and Liz spent ten dollars, how many boxes of raspberries did she buy?
Bonus question: If one of the boxes tipped over in the car on the way home, perhaps because someone couldn't keep her greedy fingers out of them, how many berries are now merrily rolling around under the seats?
The world may never know.
Okay. On with the real issue, which is that I have a drama prince on my hands.
You don't have to be BE-YOOT-ti-ful to turn me ON!
I just need your BODY bay-beee, from dusk till dawn...
Sorry. I got lost in a Prince moment. Where was I?
Oh, yes. My dramarific dog.
Basically, Alex refuses to talk rationally with us when he's upset about something. He seems to prefer a healthy dose of melodrama. I present the following examples as evidence:
If he has recently voided his bladder outside and M and I are both in the kitchen, and there is food visible (or even slight movement toward the refridgerator is detected), it must be time for him to eat. Never mind the fact that he just ate a bowl full of Nutro Natural Choice one hour earlier. If we ignore him, he collapses dramatically on the floor and weakly licks the inside of his empty bowl.
She is totally lying.
Alex is sensitive to scary things. "Scary" things include thunder, heavy rain, the vacuum cleaner, the baby gate moving even one millimeter from its original position, trash trucks, construction, the smoke alarm, large men, or anything else that is a) loud, or b) takes him by surprise.
(this may seem unbelievable, but he is 100 times braver than when we first adopted him!)
Try to take Alex for a walk within 24 hours of him observing something scary and he races downstairs to cower behind the washing machine. Try to pick him up and he sighs and hangs his head as if to say, "Torture is my lot in life."
Pants on fire!
If we take a toy or rawhide chew away from Alex at bedtime (because the joyful gnawing and smacking is downright annoying when you're trying to sleep), he gets MAD. To express his ire, he crawls under the bed and scratches at the carpet and butts his head up against the mattress. Occasionally he'll let out a slow, grumpy growl, which makes us snort with laughter. In the morning he'll race to the dresser and stare gravely up at the rawhide until it's retrieved for him.
Ludicrous! I wouldn't read
this blog if I were you.
And then there's Example #4, or Alex Gets Upset When He Realizes That We're Getting Ready For Work:
Assuming that #3 didn't occur the night before, Alex begins his mornings with astounding happiness and energy. This all changes when M and I make our way upstairs to the bathroom. Alex knows that if both of us are in there at the same time, we'll shortly be leaving him.
He gazes mournfully at us from the bed. Within five minutes he'll make his dramatic move:
Just try to resist THIS heartbreak, humans.
Ding dong, the dog is dead!
Bed came down,
He's flat as bread!
I'm going to buy him some long, striped socks and send him out for auditions. It's time he started earning his keep.