Lately we have noticed something delightfully smelly disturbing on our lawn and Honey's lawn. POOPS, really BIG poops too. The photo is not the actual poops, but a fair represenation. We know it's not us, cuz our poops are rather petite.
This is an actual lawn sign Mom is thinking about ordering. Thinking VERY seriously (Thanks, VistaPrint.)
You see we have noticed several - not one - but several piles of evidence. It seems there is a new dog on the block, and judging by the size of the poops, he's a big one. I guess his human doesn't know the rules yet. Unless it is your own personal lawn, PICK UP THE POOPS.
Apparently, we are not the only ones having this problem:
Sometimes, no matter what language, the message is the same:
And some people get pretty serious about this problem:
As you can see, Mom is pretty twisted about this. I mean, poop happens. We think she should probably place one of these on our lightpost as a gentle reminder before she takes the nuclear option:
Yup, anyone can put their poops in a chinese take box with a Skooperbox!
Mom decided that it's high time #2 starting helping around the house. She's 9. Hmmm, in dog years, that would be 63. Opps, got that backwards......she'd be less than a year and a half. Good thing mom did not come up with this idea when I was her age! Everyone knows pugs are lazy.
Her base pay is $4 a week. That would be about 4 Large Greenies, right? (Nomnomnom) Too bad I don't have opposable thumbs. I think I'm going to talk to my friend Salinger about his new start up. And she gets bonus pay for "Garbage Safari", though why they throw all that good stuff away is a huge mystery to me.
So #2's jobs are pretty simple: keep her room picked up, clear dishes, FEED US, and make sure there is enough toilet paper in each bathroom. She's called the "Toilet Paper Monitor." That's cuz she is too short for much else. We are a bit unclear about the need for this toilet paper stuff. I mean, what's wrong with wiggling your butt on the carpet? Plus, it's fun to pull off the roll. Humans sure are funny.
So here's what Mom saw the other day after the monitor was done with her rounds:
I call it the "Revenge of the Toilet Paper Monitor". Mom was sort of, well, annoyed. I don't think that's exactly what she had in mind.
Mom's in a grumpy mood this morning....so we are going to let her have her rant today. Since #1 really really needs to use special parking places, we kinda agree with her. In a short break from our regularly scheduled pug programming, we present.......
Just what is it with people? How lazy have we become....and how entitled?
Today while getting my almost daily dose of Dunking Donuts coffee, I notice a HUGE Nissan Armada parked cross-wise in the handicap spot. It's not that I am gass-gussler-ist; not at all. Since we've got #1 on board, I KNOW there is a serious incongruity to a gi-normous SUV and a disabled driver or passenger. I mean, the car is so high off the ground, normal people have trouble getting in and out. But, I give Mr. Armada the benefit of the doubt.....and peek around for the handicap tags or placard. Of course, none.
And then, out walks a perfectly able-bodied man. He proceeds to gracefully hoist himself up into the drivers seat. No passenger. And I am PISSED. So I actually open my mouth. OK - it doesn't really take much to get me to open my yap..... And he says "Oh, yeah, I have the hang tag." Yeah, right! So I casually say "Gee, you should really put that up. The cops love to give those ticketes - even to me, and I have PLATES."
I should know. I've been through the ringer fighting tickets I didn't deserve. We'll save the one in front of #1's Special Ed school for another post. (I'm just glad to local police didn't put me on a psych hold.)Otherwise my head might just pop off. And that would make a mess. I hate messes.
Thank God, here in Illinois, you can report these suckers. I'm so not kidding. Go here.
I don't really enjoy having these plates. In fact, I'd park in the remote lot if that would magically enable #1 to walk that far. Without a hand steering her. Or keeping her from falling. Really, I'd gladly give it up.
So I refer you to the original parking rant.
Ok, I've had my say. You can put the soapbox away. I just hope that Parking Karma really does exist.
and that mean she tries to get us to eat these things called green beans. Another pug family told her that they feed their pugs a mix of equal parts kibble and canned green beans. Yeah.....whatever.
We don't know what these slimy green things are, but we are not impressed. I was kinda hungry tonite, so I ate mine. For the record...I DID NOT like it. The orange sticks are tolerable, but this is pretty ....well...nasty.
Fuji, however, was able to delicately discriminate between the real food and the green stuff:
What's a pug to do?
FUJI UPDATE: Not only did the Foo pick out the greenies at dinner, but Mom forgot and dumped her breakfast righ on top of them this morning. And there they stayed. Fuji's revenge? Mom stepped in the green beans, barefoot in the middle of the night.
Our friends over at Lilo's blog, Tales of The Great Rock Eater, have selected our favorite pug rescue organization for a special donation. Since it was on our suggestion, we are so happy to be a part of this generous award!
Northern Illinois Pug Rescue is special to us because they brought us my sisterpug Fuji. I like to call her the Foo (cuz it rhymes with POO.) They kept her safe and healty until we came along to bring her to her fur-ever home. Even though I don't like sharing my treats, I love to snuggle and wrestle with her. She is also a good back-up barker. Her "Gotcha Day" is coming up and she will be here two years; it's just a few days after her 10th birthday. That's her on the right.
and here, I'm on the right, with the cute pink collar.....
Of course, the point of Paw It Foward is to keep a chain of ramdom acts of kindness moving through our communities. I keep telling Mom that means I should get more Greenies. That doesn't seem to be working. So we will be thinking up our our PIF - stay tuned!
We'll be taking a break from our regularly scheduled pug antics today. Yesterday, a crisis occured at our house. In the form of about a million angry yellowjackets. Well, we did not know they were yellowjackets until later, but it was very scary anyway.
A few days ago, mom noticed a "few" bees over the front door. But on Saturday, there seemed to be a seriously large number of buzzing flying things. She called "Honey" because he always has smelly spray stuff for all types of flying nuisances and vermin. So "Honey" sprayed about half the front lawn while trying to get the nasty buggers. They were pretty pissed off about that.
Then mom decided to look up how to get rid of bees, only to learn it was no DIY job. They can build enormous hives which can result in liquified honey running down the walls. Gross. Thus, she turned to the old fashioned phone book and found "Don't Bug Me" pest control. I am NOT joking. She was compelled to go with a guy with a name like that.
Ken, of "Don't Bug Me" assessed the situation by walking around the front lawn with a very serious look on his face. When he put on his bee-keeper hat, we knoew he meant business. Then, he climbed up on the railing, and using a little puffer thingy, puffed exactly three puffs of powder into the area. Then the yellowjackets got even more pissed. He waited for about 10 minutes and added another puff. Ken then walked around the lawn a bit more, and deciding his work was done, put away the bee-keeper gear. 125 smackeroos.
Now maybe mom will pay attention the next we bark our heads off while looking out the front window. Seriously, we were trying to tell her about the impending infestation!
He must have know what he was doing because we have not seen a yellowjacket all day. Thanks, Ken!