Bitches & Hose

I brought Fisher home when she was six weeks old.  

I made it a point to take her for rides in the car, introduce her to babies and cats in an effort to put her at ease as an adult dog ... a semi adult dog.  Because homegirl is still a PUPPY in many ways.  

Sometimes however, she'll catch me off guard and completely freak out over something unexpected.  Like any guy walking down the street wearing a winter coat (Which is a little problematic, as you might imagine seeing as we LIVE IN THE NORTHWEST) or the nice older German lady who is very hunchbacked that lives down the street (whose name is NO JOKE ... Broomhilda).

I don wan 2 talks abowt dos guyz.

So early Saturday morning, the Fish, SSG and a box of Kleenex went to Lowe's to get some new flowers for these pots.

Everything was fine.  For a while anyway.  Fisher hung out in the garage while I swept and replanted.  I chatted with the neighbors, including this neighbor (which um CUTE, GAH) and this neighbor (which um alcoholic, GAH).

Then SSG started watering the newly planted pots.  And that's when things went downhill.

Because Fisher decided to JUMP IN THEM.

She LOVES water so I kept pushing her out of them, saying "DUDE!  You can't have the water!"  Meanwhile water and dirt were flying everywhere except IN the pots.  Where both belonged.  But couldn't be because my 40 pound dog was there instead.

"DUDE!"  I was laughing and yelling and sniffling because um, SSG has a little cold.  And that's when I realized she wasn't trying to get at the water.  She was trying to get away from something.

Something had made my fiercely protective dog tremble.  "What's the matter?"  I asked her as she bent in half looking behind her while trying to hide in the flower pots.

And that's when I saw the culprit ...

I don yikez dat ting.

It's okay, Fishy.  

But I think the hose might have a cookie for you.

U haz mai atenshunz.