Dog Days

My day started yesterday at around 5:15 when Trot and Rakes decided that was a perfectly reasonable time to get up and start role playing Mario Brothers in Rakes' bedroom followed by 2 more hours filled with chasing the dog around the house, wrestling each other, and apparently trying to break the sound barrier with voices only.

8 hours of work later I pick the boys up at my parents house (Ang and Ciera had gone to dance practice) and upon entering my home I see the remnants of Hurricane Keagan. First he'd crapped on the stairs (Ciera, ignoring my pleas on the phone just a few short hours ago had NOT taken the dog out), left our bedroom door open, meaning the dog got into the bathroom trashcan and had strewn it's contents all over our room.

They had also left all their lunchboxes on the kitchen table and Rakes' now resembled something that had been put in the garbage disposal; I should point out at this point I'm sure my blood pressure is at stroke level and I'm rambling incoherently about sending the dog to Siberia while Rakes keeps finding MORE stuff, like the trash all in the toy room that I still don't know where it came from.

The dog, sensing something is amiss, promptly goes into our bedroom, crawls under the bed, and won't come out until 10 minutes later when Trot drags it out by his tail. I've gotta be honest; for one brief moment I considered just opening the door, letting him run out, and writing a kidnap note from Morris the Cat stating "this is for all the cats that have ever been chased by a dog".

Thank God the Red Sox won or yesterday might well have been the day they put me in that straight jacket for good.