Practically Famous

This guy!

My sister called during today's last class. I couldn't pick up, so I let it ring. Then she called again. My students were taking an exam, and I didn't want her to keep calling, so I texted, I'll call her in an hour. After class I called her back. She picked up the phone whispering, "Oh my gosh, I'm at work, but I have to tell you something."
I was expecting something good, so I let out a deep breath and rubbed my hands together, "OK, hit me!"
She laughed her way through a story about how she was looking to send her husband a funny text and did a Google image search for "Poop on chonies" (they're weird) and a picture of me popped up! "What are the chances someone you know turns up in a Google search?"
The result seems improbable, so I was pretty impressed.
"Wow, I'm really making a splash out there in the cyber world!"
"I know, you're everywhere!" She commented.

After chatting with my sister I decided to skip the gym, and grade the 60 exams so it wouldn't be a looming task over the weekend. This week's morning workouts needed to be moved to afternoons because my husband is out of town, and I can't run on the treadmill in the garage in case a kid wakes up, I wouldn't hear them, and they'd think I abandoned them in the night.

I was too tired to go to the gym after class anyways because my dog barked all night, and when I finally just said, "fuck it!" and got out of bed at 4:45am to hang out with him, he threw up on the couch. The reason for his incessant barking was a cry for a witness to his vomiting.
Last week he peed on my bed's comforter. I was watching TV and then realized the comforter was yellow and wet with pee. He was snoozing belly up, legs spread, a foot over from the disgusting mess. This comforter survived two babies without getting peed on but my dog got it. I didn't pick him up and throw him against the wall, what I think might be a normal reaction, instead I calmly rubbed his nose in it and put him outside.

The comforter probably needed a disinfecting sanitize wash cycle with extra bleach anyways. When I tell people that the dog peed on my bed, I'm expecting them to clutch their chest in disbelief, gasp in horror, but one person said, "They have really small bladders, he'll learn." and the other said, "Keep being consistent. He'll figure it out though."
No congratulations for not murdering him, or sending him back to the shelter but a, "Egh, thats what they do!" Now I see why so many people say, "You just took on a third child. Good luck!" I am fond of the fluff ball, as demonstrated by not killing him and waking up at an ungodly hour to throw him a tennis ball in the yard while I drink coffee, but my love can only go so deep. I don't think I will transform into a person who says their dogs are like their children.

The dog's needs are childlike. On the weekends, three days where we get to sleep in till 7:30 and on glorious occasions 8:00, I've now digressed and need to wake up with the dog between 5:30 to 6:30, which is the kind of shit an eight month old baby pulls on you. I'm now adding years to my longing for mornings where I can lay in bed and stare at the wall for an hour thinking. This was my favorite thing, and of course I have a word for that, it's called meditativerising. Kiki is getting to enjoy meditativerising now, and even though the house is bustling in the morning with George, the dog and me running around, she lays in bed looking at light coming in the curtains dancing around the wall, sporadically calling me to come and give her a hug.

I'm new to dog ownership, so what I'm experiencing is old news to most people. People aren't impressed because they've been there, done that. It's like complaining about the hardship of a newborn to someone who had triplets. Now I know that if I really want to shock them I'll tell them about the Google search. "Guess what you see when you Google 'Poop on chonies'? Me!! You see me! I'm practically famous, and I'm putting that in my Christmas newsletter!"

They'll be speechless.

That's me, looking fierce!