Adventures in Buffy-Sitting

My darling girl was BAD today. It all started out so well. The worst events in your life are like that, aren’t they? You remember the most mundane things- like having a bagel from Zabar’s for breakfast. Which would actually be of note since living in Denver one cannot even dream of a Zabar’s bagel. But I had one today. Imported in my suitcase then sliced and frozen, as my mother says with her nasal Jersey girl accent,

They freeze beautifully.

Anyway, I had my bagel then pre-cleaned for the new cleaning ladies. When they got to the house I scooped up my lil’ slayer to make sure she didn’t run away. I mean, I don’t even let her near the fence of our house in case she burrows under there like Houdini. We suspect she’s an escape artist. Which she later proved by running out the front door that the maids had open.

I was like Usain Bolt. In socks. Thank God she stopped to pee on a tree. My heart was in my throat. She was so damn quick. I snatched her up. I couldn’t even scold her, I was so relieved to have her little stinky self in my arms. If only the day had ended there. My good girl, safe in my arms.  We decided to leave her alone because she has to get used to the house. In case I get a job and she has to be left alone.  I left her for like an hour to go shopping for dinner and she was fine. Then I went to the gym for an hour. When I came back she had been rummaging in the recycling I was all bad girl. She rolled over and showed me her belly(which I thought meant she was submitting to my will but I was informed by future dog psychiatrist to the stars Dr. Panders that,  she has no idea why I am mad. I thought the recycling slaying was very mild since she didn’t scatter it all over the house or eat any tin can tops. The cleaning ladies had done such a bang up job and Lara was over and I didn’t feel like making a mess in the kitchen with my experimental sweet potato won ton wrapper raviolis so I asked Husband to take us out for some bomb ass pho. Pho Duy is a legit pho joint in Saudi Aurora. Not suitable for vegetarians but flexitarians can have at it.

While we were out Buffy was bad, she was very very bad. She had somehow gotten on to the kitchen island which we had no idea she could do. She must have back flipped up there because the stemless champagne glasses we had left out were on the floor. And my vegan cheese plate. And the anchovy olives were still there but the pits to the other olives were all gone. Gone into Buffy’s belly. We walked her and gave her some more food then she dropped a deuce and my jerk husband ran away which really annoyed me. He claimed it was a joke but I didn’t find it funny. At. All.

When we got home she got out again.  But luckily she was so happy to see us she didn’t run out into the  street, just the porch.   Husband had the grace to act chagrined after bitching at me for letting her out. I became emotional. I clung to Husband like a woman drowning in a sea of doubt. Should we have gotten a dog? Should I have a baby?What kind of monstrous mother will I be?   What if it escapes? I would die. What if Buffy tries to run off to LA? And falls into another dimension? And that dimension is hell. Taking care of a dog is pretty intense. Her life is at stake here( heh heh stake get it?) and it is a lot of responsibility. But she’s so damn cute. I felt like a really bad Mommy/Watcher today. But my husband reassured me with a hug and a shrug,

She’s smarter than us. What can we do?

She Owns Us.

She Owns Us.

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