Farewell to Grundlepusses...

Deuce Castle: The Punisher. (We watched "Punisher: War Zone" last night. A crazy, crazy movie- btw. Not "bad". Just..."Crank" level crazy. Also, my pacifist charge did not want to pose with said replica gun. Good boy.)

Today will mark the end of my dog-sitting posts. It's been a fun test-drive for a while, however I'm looking forward to getting back to routine over the Holidays with the last month or so having been a roller-coaster of sorts. It'll also serve as a explanation as to why I'm far from a suitable candidate for pet ownership of any sort. (Seriously? There seems to be this unspoken arbitrary concept that if you have a yard, and own a home? You need a pet. This, friends, is just not the case with me.)

So...did you guys know that I work out? Yeah yeah...so one of the dumb things I usually don't riff about here is the non-run/karate/weight-centric stuff that comprises my morning "routine". Almost every work day morning, in lieu of coffee I try and stretch out and do core work and push-ups. (Skipping the crunches/leg lifts at the gym saves time. And if you aren't doing your ab work- do. After 20 years, I figured out that I actually notice when I my "center" is getting weak...and not just "flabby")

Deuce...has hindered that a bit. By way of saying he lays across my chest or puts his paw on my forehead. Or tries to crawl under my body. And pushing him away actually encourages him. I'd like to think he's playing "personal trainer", but it's actually kind of a nuisance.

And that's...that's just a small part of it. It's "cute" when he sleeps in my bed but he's a hog. There's also the responsibility. I've been flying solo this last month and in getting used to being "alone" means I need to acclimate myself to the concept of what my day to day is going to be like. To "ride the waves" and just see how and where life carries me. Dig? Every day this week I've been scampering home like a wombat to let him out, getting up earlier to feed him, get him his specialty food. Oh, and the cost. I'm a floater with out a large amount of disposable income, and what income I do have? I want to/like to travel. (Have you any IDEA how expensive dog food is? Moda's cat food with the noble cougar on the bag was like taking out a 2nd mortgage whenever you had to hit Petsmart!) Not to mention vet visits, emergencies, shots, other pets, "walkies".

Lastly...'nother little known fact? I'm a neatnik. Ever since first setting out on my own it's been my "thing". Make the bed. Hang up the clothes. Vacuum/Dust regularly. Make sure the sinks empty at night etc. (RECESSIVE GENE? RECESSIVE GENE!!!) And the things that I've never been a huge fan of regarding pets involve de-linting, de-pooping (either the backyard or a cat box) and trying to keep foul smells to a minimum. So I guess that goes for both pets and babies. ZING!

See, outside of girlfriends/roommates? I've never "owned" a pet of my own. With Georgie Teh Kitteh, I had a Jellybean roommate who was (if you can believe it) more obsessive with the maintenance of the beast than even I could ever be. (If you ever saw his daily morning routine...of how he fed him. Cleaned the box daily, including getting down on his hands and knees to hand-sweep into a dustbin any residual litter...well it's actually fairly inspired.) And with the Deuce, while it's nice that the Bean has volunteered daily to be on dog-walking detail for both of their benefit? It's not something I can rely on the day-to-day. Nor would I impose that on him. Without the Bean, I'd have been running home over lunch to let him out.

Soooo...yeah. The few benefits I've glommed this week are that he's a low-key dog who doesn't bark and has good fur...and my roommate likes taking him for the occasional walk to meet chicks. My dressing him in funny poses makes me a weirdo versus a quality pet owner.

So that's that. I'm good for pet-sitting, to be sure. And I'm good with animals. But like with babies, I like to be able to give them back and return to my peaceful albeit frassy day-to-day. Couple that with a streak of worry-wortness. Mea Culpa, yo.

For your benefit, and for those aminal (sp?) lovers out there who've enjoyed seeing the hootenanny hijinks of one Mssr. Deucalion, I leave you with photos my roommate took of him frolicking at the dog park. Say buh-bye, Deuce-y! Hep Hep Hep Hep HEP!!!


This is my stick. There are many other sticks like it, but this one is mine.

Frolic and romp. The Jellybean was a little nonplussed with the park, citing that it was a "sausage-fest". I don't get it? Doggeh's love snausages. (I told him to try a Saturday or Sunday if he wishes to see the lovelies...or drive him to Minnehaha)

The Bean mentioned a brief panicky stare down when the pointer down there gave in to his baser instincts and growled at the Deuce. An intervention occurred.

King of the Hill?

King. Of. The. M##herF##king Hill. Beeeeeeyotch.

Come back! Come BACK, Deuce!!! Deuce...Don't GO!!!

Au Revoir, pal. See you on Adam's couch. Or when he goes out of town and doesn't want to pay for a pet hotel. ; )

Deuce Bigelow

Deuce Hefner, in robe and 1974 Pl'boy..."Well hello, young lady. You look very lovely tonight and- say...are you over 18 and want to get into modelling?" Sorry ladies. He's a eunuch, but a helluva cuddler.

Tonight was another gym procrastinator while I scampered home to inspect my charge. The roommate was home and homeworkin' but informed me they went on an "Epic" walk and made an impromptu visit to Redwright before heading home. We discussed a potential dog-park visit on the weekend during the daylight hours, both of us still holding on to our reservations about it not being our dog and what would happen if "something" were to happen... (It was here that he gave me another tip that if he was out on a walk? And it was a female dog-walker? He'd stop and chat. If it they were male? He'd scamper across the street or turn around. He's a scoundrel.)

In lieu of a gym visit and to tucker him out I went on a 2 mile jaunt myself around the parkway. My original intent was a dog-park visit-swear- but it's been dipping down in the single-digits and frankly? My hairy step-brother was having a better time of it than I was. I considered taking him on a run, but chickened out. Sue.

And when we got home, it was treats and cuddlin to the Robert Altman classic "McCabe and Mrs. Miller". (A movie where prostitution is a theme. Hence the jerry-rigged pimp outfit on the Deuce) The film, I have nothing to say about since we both started falling asleep about an hour in. Better than NyQuil, that Altman. To all my insomniatic friends? You're welcome.

My dinner with Deuce're...

Pictured: The grundler keeps the backyard varmint-free. He also piddled in the area where I planted asparagus...which, for some reason, I find ironic and hilarious.

Fact the first: In the winter time I bring my gym bag with me to work so that it doesn't freeze in my car. (Anyone dressing at the gym after their gear has spent 8 hours in a subzero car knows how much trying to put on frozen clothing sucks) The logic is that I can go from work to the gym and BOOM done. Workout accomplished.

Fact the second: I suck at this and invariably wind up going home. In the sweeter months it's fine- I usually can just run early in the a.m. or after work on a beautiful day. Or both. I'm easy. But after a long-ass day I tend to drift toward finding excuses to go straight home. (Not to be too self-loathing, the excuses are easier when I have a gig or event to attend. Or karate. Natch. Or...)

I HAVE A DEUCE-EXCUSE! Yes, I found myself barrelling home and bypassing the gymnasium in order to attend his Grundlyness. Fortunately, my roommate has taken on the task of being the daytime sitter- I fielded a remarkable number of texts from him over lunch letting me know that he has time to come home between work and school and take him for a walk. (His alterior motive was admitted in his last text, whereas he said that maybe he'll meet another single female dog-walker out in the world...and I'm fine with that. Go get'em!)

It's pretty amazing how low-key this guy is. AL told me that he's low-maintenance and he wasn't kidding. Treats and snoozin'? Snoozin' and treats...and he's good. No chewing shoes. No piddlin/poopin in the house when left alone. No barkin'. The only concession is that he knows "out" and where "out" is. (At his home at the lofts, "out" time means crossing through the building to the common dog area. At the casa, he's very aware that the back door is the out door. And he'll sit and look frassy at the door, tail a-wagging...and he just came in 2 minutes previously)

Still, he loves the backyard. Plenty of smells, plenty of sticks, and plenty of squirrels. If I wasn't such a chicken shit (of other dogs, not him) I'd meander down to the St. Anthony dog park. Except...see the aforementioned laziness. AND the fact that it was MOVIE NIGHT!

And today's episode ends on the couch with Smashburger black bean burger (soooo good), shared sweet potato fries (wow. wow wow wow.) and "Conan the Barbarian". (1981. Deuce really loved the score.) Also...we've discovered the bed. Just...just see below.

Black bean burger- not a reconstituted patty, mind- and sweet tater fries. Notice half the cup is missing? That was NOT me. You're welcome, Grundlepuss.

I'm in ur bedz! Sleepin' on the diagonal! (Taken in pitch black. Surprise!)

I will NO be moved...oh, wait...did you say O-U-T? If I must...but I can't...the bed...she is too warm.

Waitaminnit...you said this movie was in 3D? You sleep on a bed of LIES, sir!

Squirrels? Not on my watch...