I cannot beat their headline, either.

Hey, watch where you point that thing!

found via Boing, Boing.

They were our pets, and as pets go, they were OK. They used to escape quite often and we would find them hiding under a bed or in a closet. I remember one long-time escapee that we finally found because he had dragged a lollipop into my closet and was crunching it at 2:00 AM.

The conversation went something like this:

*crunch crunch*

“Dad, there’s something in my closet!”

“Hush, honey, it’s just your imagination.”

*crunch crunch*

“Da-ad, there’s something…”

“Quiet! It’s time to go to sleep!”

etc.

Finally, in the middle of the night, I guess he finally heard it, too (I had finally drifted off to dream of monsters crunching on bones or somesuch) and he rescued him and put the little guy back in the cage.

Anyway, that’s not what this is about.

Another thing our hampsters did was follow each other around the habitrail. You know, the long yellow and red tubes and stuff? Well, sometimes one of them would decide to park his furry little ass in the middle of a tube. And another one would come along, and want him (or her) to move. And bite them on the butt.

Sometimes, if they were facing the wrong way, they’d bite them on the face. (Our favorite hampster had one eye, btw).

I’m feeling a bit like one of those hampsters right now. Just for being here, I’m getting gnawed on. On all sides. Things are not happy right now in the habitrail, and I don’t know what to do to make them better. Everybody hurts.

I certainly understand the temptation to escape and munch on a lollipop in the middle of the night in a closet, though.

A ‘weekend getaway’ with Giada, or a ‘tasty travel’ with Rachael Ray?

In fact, they were being so good, it was almost like… they weren’t here.

I look in the yard - no dogs. In the garage (in case they ventured out there and the door shut behind them), no dogs. On my bed - no dog. Two cats, yes, but no dog.

I asked my son: “Have you seen the dogs?”

“Well, maybe, um, they might have gotten out when my brother opened the door, kinda.” It’s always somebody else, isn’t it?

So I figure, well shit, I better go find them. I grab their leashes and head out the door. I’m met in the yard by the Animal Cops. Well, one of them, at least.

“Do you have two black dogs?”

“Why, yes, I do, and I just realized they were missing, but they must have been gone for almost two hours since it’s after halftime…” Yeah, I’m a real Responsible Parent.

Lucky for us, he had scanned them and one of them has a microchip (I can’t remember which one, see? Responsible) so he brought them home instead of driving them over to the pound. They don’t have their collars on since they keep slipping them off and chewing them to pieces. The pound wouldn’t have been fun, it was Sunday after all, and they aren’t open for me to retrieve them.

I had to produce my license so he could write a ticket, and the whole time the kids have a running commentary:

“Well, if they get out again then we could get something else!”

“Like a bird!”

“Or a fish. No, we have a fish.”

“A dolphin. No, too big…”

etc.

Poor Animal Cop was trying really hard to keep a straight face. In the end, he just gave me a warning. I’m hoping the dogs were traumatized enough by being caged in the back of his truck to not try and run away again.

But I know better.

Bitch.

Just in case you were, well, actually being productive today, I bring you this (courtesy of Mir via Busy Mom)

Lolsecretz

Grizzly thought: Wanna bet it shows up on Youtube sometime? (notice the cell phones)

(click above for linky linky)

via Boing, Boing

Yours?

Hopefully, I can finish the laundry, and perhaps clean the bathrooms, without worrying every thirty seconds if the dogs are going to get out the front door.