Oh wait - those last two things aren't normal? That was just today. My 72 pound friend over here decided to make my afternoon more interesting by dry heaving. Have you heard a dog dry heave? I think it's worse than cats screeching right before they suck the breath out of babies.
And then it happened: dog vomit. Fabulous. And while he was dry heaving - I of course was in the midst of changing from work. So I had two options: 1. Let Tyson puke all over the hallway or 2. Let my neighbors see me in all my glory.
Obviously I chose option 1. We were upstairs and anyway- it would have taken me a bit to get to the door.
|You still love this pukey face.|
But there are more fun things that Tyson and I bond over while Tony is gone. He's spoiled. Spoiled rotten - by Tony - his buddy. You see, our 74 lb bundle of joy likes to think he weighs 8 lbs and can sit on your lap at all times. Case in point:
|If he could get any closer he would|
Which leads me to bed time. After thinking he's an 8 pounder with room to spare, Tyson also thinks his bed is a queen with a new duvet and nice sheets from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. Luckily for him, there just happens to be a nice old sheet on top of the duvet so he doesn't have to worry about washing his duvet over and over. That dog hair gets everywhere you know. Generally Tony can keep him off the bed - they have a nightly routine - Tyson jumps up, Tony says "get down, that's not your bed," and then Tyson goes over and sulks in his actual bed, on the floor - for shame.
But when T is gone - oh it's on! Tyson claims Tony's spot and lays on it like white on rice. Which is fine by me - I don't mind him laying by my side. However, he doesn't stay like that. He's a bed moocher. I really wish I had a picture, or I knew what he was thinking. Probably something like, "Duuuu, this bed is comfy, this girl is kind of squishy too."
|Oh sure - look all curled up now.....|
I'll let you guess who got more sleep last night. Hint: She's the Mexican who has large, dark circles under her eyes.
After a couple sleepless nights, I let Mr. Ginestra know how things were going. Because obviously he wants a novel length text at 7:45 in the morning.
Tony: Good Morning! I love my king size bed, this is great, I could do somersaults if I wanted to!
Me: Ugh, I have a leg cramp - and dog hair in my ears - and a paw imprint on my face!
Tony: Well tell him to get down!
Me: Really? Every couple of hours, you would like me to wake out of coma-like sleep to tell the dog to 'get down' - have you met this dog?
Tony: Well, you're the boss!
Me: Oh right - because when his snout is all up in my armpit, I should just look down at him and say, Guess who's the boss - get down - I'll get right on that, it seems to work well at 2:45 am.
Alright - so the first two sentences didn't really happen. However, the snout in the armpit was for real. I guess I wasn't too stinky, he's still alive. However, he likes to sniff weird things on the ground.
But tonight is the last night - Tony is coming back in town tomorrow - can I get a heck yes! from the people! - and I'm going to show Tyson's who the boss is - I'd really like to not have snouts in my armpits for one night.
|I can't wait to walk on you like a pull out couch....with memory foam.|