Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Buffet or Bone yard.... it's all in the eye of the beholder.

When momma can't do what she wants to do [thank you doc for telling her she can't do things], she gets weird[er]. She walks around, points to stuff, makes "honey do" lists for other people [poor daddy] and makes plans.

We know this routine. We put up with it as best as we can. We secretly support each other and endure the looks of disapproval when pillows
fall off the couch. We tolerate that pruned faced pained look she puts on when stuff attaches itself to your paws and it tracks upstairs. We don't tell on each other, we know this will be over soon and flying under the radar is the key to survival.

BUT. Yes there is always a BUT. This afternoon, that woman went too far. On top of her number 7 list of to do stuff [yes there are that many lists!] she put, and I quote, "Get rid of the bone yard." GASP. Taking deep breath. What momma calls "the bone yard" is actually our bone buffet. You know, the pink heart dish in the family room that holds all the treasured bones. NOT a bone yard.
Ick that sounds awful. Grave yard.... bone yard... Why on earth would she want to get rid of our bone buffet? We use that! And we already make an effort to keep all of our bones in there! Do we mess with her ever growing patrimony of olive jars? No. Do we touch in any way her insane stash of olive oil? No. So why is it that she feels compelled to mess with our stuff?

I, no, WE (JD, Wendy and I) need to hire our 2legged siblings. We need some representation of the legal kind.
Ok. That shall be topic one on our agenda when they arrive on Saturday.

While we're at it, I better work on a more comprehensive list of demands. Something inclusive enough and with enough "fat" on it that we can afford to "bargain" and "leverage."

Do you have any suggestions for me?

Sign me Farklempt



Anonymous said...

Two-handed belly rubs every hour, Silvie!

silvieon4 said...

Ohhhh I like the way you think!!!!

Honeygo Beasley said...

I want to see a picture of that bone dish. Is it on your blog, Silvie? I think that post may pre-date me. Anyway, why must the bone buffet go away????? I don't have any bones. Well, unless you call my mom one big giant bone. I guard her day and night, but she is far from buffet material.

rocky-dog said...

Hey 'vie -- mama just got rid of my stash of bones and chewies the other night. I am NOT a happy camper.
Mama SAID it was because of the ants. Mama HATES ants and this time of the year the ants come marching (just like in the Dave Matthews Band song!) and marching and marching. I think it's because it gets too hot in the dirt for them and so they come in to our house. But for some reason the ants decided they liked my bones too and they were having fun crawling all over them. Unfortunately mama noticed and out went my bones and chewies and a couple of other things I had hiding in my downstairs bed (the bed has been completely washed again and no longer smells like me!) Mama said she would get me new bones this weekend when she goes to the store for more food. But in the meantime I am boneless.
Guard your stash! Rocky

Unknown said...


Remember that time you buried your bones under your Daddy while he was asleep?


The Dude
White Dog Cottage
Suffolk, VA