|Creepy guys in bow ties bothering you? Forget the pepper spray and grab a Great Dane.|
Those of you who've been hanging out with me here for the last few years are ridiculously smart. So chances are good you've wondered once or twice...
Whatever happened to the dog?
She has a dog, right?
No, Paige most definitely has a dog. It's in her blog description. It's literally designed into the header of the website. I'm not crazy.
Here's the thing. We got rid of Flea a long time ago.
(No, no, no. He's not dead. We both had strong personalities, but if someone was getting offed, he would've taken me out first. Hands down. Street fights between housewives and 100 lb Boxers tend to end that way.)
When we sold the Split Level, the dog was forced to find a new, temporary residence. The residence turned into a permanent residence, and the transition was made. But how did it come about? Well let's see. Somewhere between packing a billion boxes, watching three kids, meticulously cleaning the house so it would be ready to show, and the great flea epidemic of 2014, this happened.
"Out. I want him out."
Husband stopped chasing fleas with the wet mop long enough to stare at me. "What? Who? Are you talking to me?"
"No, you can stay." Shaking my head, I bent down to find an outlet. "Although, this whole thing is kind of your fault, so check with me after I finish vacuuming the stairs for the eighth time today."
He looked dumbfounded before he asked. "How? How is this my fault?"
I ticked the reasons off on my hand. "First, you talked me into the dog. Second, you named him Flea. Third, fully embracing the irony, you didn't treat him for one of nature's most disgusting insects, and now I'm sleeping with them. I found thirty-three of them in the sheets last night. Thirty-three! there's more action in that queen bed than a romantic comedy on acid."
Husband shrugged then lunged at a hopping, black mass by the dining room table. "It could've happened to anybody. I just forgot. Besides, Flea's a really good dog."
He was a really good dog. Mostly. Sure, the house was crawling with pestilence. And there were the times he ran right through the screen door. Oh, and the mud, and the howling when the baby was sleeping, and-
"He's got to go. At least for a little while. We'll never sell this house if I'm constantly fighting bugs and wiping up dog dirt off the kitchen floor. It's hard enough keeping the kids from dismantling the whole place, before the realtor gives me the five minute warning"
Husband was quiet for a minute before answered. "Ok. Just for a little while. I think someone can take him for a few weeks, and then we'll move him into the place."
I let out a relieved sigh and stamped two fleas, who were climbing the curtains, in celebration. "Great. Thank you."
"But it's just temporary."
And he never came back.
That sounds heartless, but the fact was, selling and moving took a lot longer than anticipated, and Flea just sort of got used to living with our friends. He was super happy, so why move him? All signs pointed towards a dog-free house and no more hair in every crevice of my life. After a year of settling in at the Oak Palace, things are finally on an even keel. No one barks at the mailman. A 100lb couch doesn't drag mud all over the living room after a storm. Dog farts are a thing of the past. Not to mention the food budget. Did you know that, if you eat Ramen forever, you can feed a small Boxer for 8,000$ a month?
But that was last week. This week, Husband marched into the kitchen, after work, and smiled the smile that usually disrupts my well-laid plans.
"So, I have an idea."
To be continued.....
Oh, and before I forget, if you're local to the Kansas City area, Husband and I will be The 5th Annul Chef's Classic on April 16th. So, if you're looking for an awesome date night and want to hang out, drink wine, and inhale fantastic food with me, go grab a ticket! (I'll try not to eat everything before you get there.)
Tickets are 50-100$ and give you a front row seat to watching some of KC's most notable chefs throw down for a great cause. I can't wait. Someone get me some brazed duck and a glass of wine stat.
Until Next Time, Readers!
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