Pickles & Dimes

Jason won our 2010 Cribbage Tournament. He is equally smug and giddy, with a side of Halfhearted Guilt thrown in for appearance’ sake about the fact that he has won the last five years. “Don’t you even want to try to win?” he asks, joking, as I silently recount all of his hands whenever we play with slitted, suspicious eyes. I’d say 2011 is my year, but obviously that line of optimism expired long ago.

We have not yet had much opportunity to incorporate FUN! into our year yet (besides New Year’s Day, which we spent bowling and playing cards and eating a Bucket of Tots with Jason’s parents and some friends after having to scrap our original plans due to the weather – that’s right: A Bucket of Tots) because both of our Workplaces are made up of people who like to give us more work because we “can be counted on to get the job done.” That is all fine and dandy and full of back-handed accolades, but it essentially boils down to this: some people we work with are procrastinators. Therefore, we are being punished by getting their work. It is sad that Jason is positively thrilled about only working 9.5 hours a day (when it’s usually 11-12), and I am elated about leaving at 5:00 (after working through lunch, as per the new normal. In fact, I just got interrupted mid-soup-spoonful by someone wanting something). It is crazy-busy for both of us, but we’re doing the best we can right now and not acting on our first impulse, which is to swear and punch people (me) and dramatically quit our jobs (also me). Instead, I am angrily scratching giant, highlighted Xs on all the calendar workdays this year that make me want to quit (tally so far: one).

The pets are helping by being FUN! and extra adorable. Shorty and Jason have been practicing this circus act where Jason leans over and Shorty jumps onto his back. Every once in awhile, I’ll be commanded to “Come here!” and enter the room to see my husband standing upright with our dog standing calmly and smugly on top of his shoulders, all, “What up?” Before I know it, we will have a trapeze in our living room. Or a cannon.

Abby has been enjoying the extra food we give her in an attempt to fatten her up (galloping toward me like a lunatic when I announce it’s time for “Second Breakfast!”) and has increased her desire for hunting water in the wild by no longer waiting for me to exit the shower before licking the walls. The first time this happened, I was caught completely unaware, and when, in my pre-contact blurriness I saw a large gray-ish creature under the shower curtain, I (logically, no?) assumed a giant raccoon had somehow gotten into the bathtub. (With that explanation, you will agree that my reaction was totally appropriate.)

Sunny is, well, Sunny. 95% demented and uncontrollable and 5% extra snuggly and cute. She has finally discovered the top of the dryer, where she sits in a blissful, toasty stupor when we do laundry, but the rest of the time she is loudly demanding food by meowing relentlessly. In fact, she meows, moves to another area, meows again, and then moves to yet another area to meow. Only the meows all sound different. It’s the feline equivalent of throwing your voice in an attempt to convince us multiple cats are begging for food. Part of me wonders if there is something wrong with her, because she will steal Abby’s food, Shorty’s food, and even sit on a hot stove burner to score our dinner leftovers if we don’t take preventive measures.

Should we get the dog his own bed so he stops stuffing himself (complete with hilarious, exasperated huffs and grunts) into the cat bed? Or just keep laughing uproariously at him?

I think either way is win-win.

It’s been two years since we adopted you, and I can’t believe we’ve had you that long. It seems like just yesterday we strode unsuspectedly into that Petco to buy cat food and came to a skidding stop in front of your crate, knowing seconds after seeing your wrinkly, concerned brow that you were coming home with us.

You’ve learned so much this year. Last year, we taught you to sit, shake, leave it and lay, and now you know how to stay and roll over, and what’s even better is that we don’t even have to say anything because you recognize the hand signals, too. You also know the following words: toy, treat, hot dog, blanket, hop up, outside, walk, Sunny, Abby (you look around warily when we say her name in case she’s about to paw-slap you), bone and because you’re so smart we can’t even spell it out anymore, b-o-n-e.

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We are on Day 7 with the Strip (of gel!) Applying to the Dog’s Eyes, and you know what? Shorty actually sees Jason grab the tube of gel, utters a small, let’s-get-this-over-with sigh and plops himself down on my lap, patiently enduring Jason prying open his eyelids to apply the strip without even flinching, and then trots expectantly to the fridge, where he sits without being asked and waits for his reward hot dog. Meanwhile, when I use a washcloth to wipe the residual goop from his eyes every morning (from the gel – his eyes are looking perfectly fine now), he thrashes and tosses his head, and basically acts like I am tossing acid in his face instead of gently wiping it with a soft green washcloth.

Abby has been an extensive hunter lately. Every night when we go to bed, she’ll hop up on the bed for a few minutes, kneading the blankets as though she’s tucking me in, and then hop back down. A few minutes later, we’ll hear her caterwauling downstairs as she grabs one of her toys out of the basket (Beanie Babies). This caterwauling continues for a few minutes, as she navigates the stairs with the stuffed animal in her mouth (which is 1/3 her size), walks around the living room, pinpoints our position as we call out to her: “We’re in here, Abs!” and finishes her muffled meowing by depositing the toy either on the bed with us or right in the doorway so one of us is sure to step on it at 4:30 a.m. By the time we get up in the morning, there’s anywhere from 3-10 toys on the floor, proudly displayed for our benefit. She is still partial to her ribbon-decorated rabbit’s foot (which I accidentally sucked into the vacuum a few months ago and Jason repaired), but usually brings us a giant stuffed baseball, a Halloween bat, a Halloween ghost, and a few rabbits. Thankfully she does not meow for every toy, and I am also thankful that these “dead” animals are not real.

Sunny has been particularly annoying in the mornings again lately and has realized that the earplugs and pillows over our ears means we can’t hear her meowing or batting at the dresser handles, so she has developed the habit of coming right up to me and repeatedly headbutting me in the arm or head – hard. She also spends a lot of time looking out the window at our driveway, so the first thing I see when I get home is her in front of the curtains, mouth open in a disapproving meow, like a parent upset over a missed curfew.

Every morning when Jason leaves for work, I’ll stand at one of our windows and wave goodbye. This morning I was in our bedroom making the bed and right when I stepped up to the window, a damn grackle flew right into it, making me shriek and flap my arms in some kind of weird sympathetic gesture. Meanwhile, the bird immediately recovered from its head bashing and stared back of me, crazy bird eyes all agog, wings flapping, probably wondering what the hell MY problem was.

What odd animal behavior have you seen lately?