Martha Stewart Floor Cleaning Arsenal

In honor of my first-born's ninth birthday. Never thought he would make it another year. We apologize for letting a cat into what should be the sweet life of your twilight years.

Broom and dustpan
Uses: Oreo crumbs, cobwebs, dog hair, ant colonies, dried up Play-Doh, dog hair, piece of string cheese left under the couch last week, dog hair.

Swiffer
Uses: Dog hair

Wet Swiffer
Uses: Dog hair stuck to floor with slobber

Electric Broom
Uses: Dog hair off the hardwood floors and low pile carpeting

Little Green Machine
Uses: Dog hair stuck to furniture upholstery with slobber

Vacuum
Uses: All of the above - most notably, dog hair - off the high pile rugs

Shop Vac
Uses: Dog hair off the stairway runner.

Lint Roller
Uses: When your regular vacuum and your shop vac both stop sucking in the same weekend because they have too much dog hair that has made it into the actual motors.

Directions:
1. Get down on your hands and knees.
2. Swipe lint roller across rug one time.
3. Remove no-longer-adhesive layer from lint roller.
4. Repeat as necessary.

Note: One full lint roller will clean about 3 square feet of high dog hair traffic.

Very Merry Unbirthday

In keeping with the theme of forgetting everyone's birthday, I will not be wishing Kelly a Happy Birthday in this blog today.

BC (before children), Scott and I longed for a dog, so upon entering home ownership, we immediately set out to do just that. We knew we wanted a bigger breed, and preferably one that was not too active, since we both worked full time, so St. Bernard seemed like the obvious choice.

An ad placed by a Mennonite family had the right price on it, so we took a drive into pseudo-Amish country to take a look. With a mother and father that topped out at over 200 pounds, we picked our little bundle of joy from the two males that were left, based on the fact that he was just slightly bigger than the other one.

I was at the height of my Harry Potter obsession, so he was christened Brittany's Sir Potter with the AKC and just plain Potter to his friends. He was a rather large ball of fluff and since Mennonites (at least these ones) don't use vets, he still had his nonfunctional dew claws sticking out. But we loved him anyway.

I had been assigned to a client that made me drive all over the greater Cleveland area auditing apartment complexes, so I got to do the majority of my work from home. Perfect time to get a puppy.

Two weeks later I was re-assigned to what turned into an eight month commute to Augusta, GA every week. So there went obedience school.

We first tried keeping Potter to the kitchen. This was our starter home, and we had big plans for a kitchen remodel so we weren't too concerned with what he did to it. Overall, the pee did loosen up the linoleum tiles and made them easier to pull off!

I don't exactly remember when he took the time to beaver his way through each leg of the dining room furniture, but when I tried to donate it to the furniture bank, they said they couldn't take it.

Eventually, he was banished to the basement on our departure, but it wasn't a bad deal. It was bigger than the kitchen and he had his own bar.

Midway through his first year, I came home to find a plant knocked over (must have been before his basement days). Later he proceeded to puke up bright green bile...every hour...all night long. He couldn't eat or drink without puking.

He had his stomach scoped...twice. The only thing they could find was chew toy stuffing, and we all know that is edible. The puking went on for SEVEN days, as did the hunger strike. Never did find out what was wrong with him, but on day eight he started eating again. If you've followed the blog at all, I don't need to re-hash his Irritable Bowel Syndrome "incidents". He topped out at 130 pounds and I blame that plant.

To most people, 130 pounds is quite substantial, but every time I see another St. Bernard, I realize how puny ours is. Adding to the puniness is the fact that the damn dog never sat still! He was in your face, on your lap, hogging the bed covers. He was a menace on a leash, chasing after every squirrel, chipmunk, and rabbit that crossed his path. Most often without any warning.

These days he finally lays low and spends more time chasing rabbits in his dreams than in real life. He turned 8 last week. In people years that's technically 56, but you gotta add on some more time for the larger breed and he's probably more like 80.

Last night Zoe laid across him giggling because he was panting so hard from the heat that it was like a ride for her.

I have a feeling his eye sight and maybe even sense of smell are fading. (Crumbs that I leave on the floor have to eventually be swept up.) He can barely navigate stairways (I have to actually stand behind him and prod on the ones that come in from the garage) and there is a permanent hitch in his step (which always becomes more pronounced when we leave him in someone else's care while we are on vacation).

So to my first born for his birthday...I will try to not yell at you so much when you take Oreos out of Zoe's hand while she's still eating them, I will turn on the air conditioning, and I'll let you have a Beggin' Strip, even if it means I have to wake up at 3 am to let you out of the house.

Taken August 18, 2008

Things I've Said Lately

"Don't kiss each others butts. That's how people get sick"

"Please take the plastic bag off your head."

"Potter is not allowed to eat oven gloves."

Morgan and Zoe take baths together. Typically, I take this opportunity to clean the bathroom. It is disturbing how quickly our bathroom turns into a toothpaste encrusted bowl of hair.

So I had my back turned and I hear Morgan say "You just kissed my butt," which is actually not that strange when you know how much time my daughters spend with their faces in the bath water, despite my telling them that said bath water is only clean until they get in it.

"Kiss it again," she says. This is when I have to intervene.

* * *

Zoe puts things on her head.

If it has an opening, it goes on her head. Boxes, laundry baskets, leather purses, nylon duffel, canvas totes, and yes...plastic bags. We are the reason there is the big warning across them that says they are not a toy.

Her favorite is emptying the clear plastic carrying case for the Mega Blocks. It is big enough that it fits over her shoulders too, yet she has clear visibility to wobble around the living room in it.

* * *

Potter is a pretty typical St. Bernard in his old age. He spends the majority of his day in one of two positions. Curled up on the floor or sprawled out on the floor. He breaks the monotony by licking himself or chewing on his paws.

With a few memorable exceptions he refrains from chewing things that don't belong to him, so I was little surprised when I investigated a strange noise and found him gnawing on something in the front foyer.

Thinking it was a stuffed animal, I quickly went in for the rescue. But it was only an oven glove. The sturdy kind you use instead of pot holders, but not the rubber kind that would be impervious to geriatric dog teeth.

And more unfortunately for us, my rescue came after three of five fingers could no longer be found and I'm assuming are working through the irritable bowels of our dumb ass dog.