Because that's where all bad doggies go... We no longer have another dog. He was rejected, and taken to the pound. True story. He obeyed better than Lily, for sure, but he had one quirk that we just couldn't get over...
He tried to eat the goat every chance he got.
So, in all fairness to goat, who WAS here first, and probably wants her neck attached to her head, Bo had to go. Is it bad that I don't miss him? He was just tied up all the time, away from goat, and would bark, wrap his leash around trees until he couldn't even sit, bark, be generally annoying, and bark. And if you ever DID let him off the leash he'd lunge at goat so quickly that heaven forbid you're standing in the way, you'll be knocked off your feet. It was just too intense, especially with little Ava.
Ok, but seriously, I really don't give nearly as much attention to the animals as this blog would imply, I do have a real life. But I needed to get that confession off my chest...
So today was Aver's first day at preschool. It really cemented my suspicions that I am just not "a mommy". I love Ava to death, but heaven forbid I should ever forget how to talk in a normal pitch, or wear only sweaters, or sport a brainless perma-grin while commenting on how "cute" and "adorable" everything is.
I digress... This section of my rant, er, blog, is about Ava. She was completely overstimulated and overwhelmed in the presence of 12 other screaming, pushing, nosepicking children and their subsequent "mommies". This overstimulation/whelmedness culminated in the throwing of herself on the floor and banging her head into the cement in a fit of rage. She will learn soon enough that the best way to handle said "rage" is to throw things and hurt OTHER people... so much to learn. I suppose this is why I have her enrolled in school at such an early age.
But I think that she shall fare well afterall, because the best thing ever happened today at preschool.
She got snack.
Oh, and I was the only mom who showed up in cargoes and a sweatshirt. And flip flops. And a ponytail. Ok, the end.
Anyway, tomorrow Kels and I get to go see Phantom. He's seen it like a bazillion times already, so it sucks to be him, but I'm going and he's being dragged along. He whined about it in the presence of testosterone so much that I actually got irritated and told him that he didn't need feel pressed to go... at which point he confessed that he's really kind of excited, but he can't let on to the other guys. I'll let it slide. I'm cool like that.
We're going to see Carlos Mencia on the 11th too... then I think we're all out of shows. And we go hunting the 12th. When I say "we", I mean, him. I like shooting inanimate objects. And I prefer handguns. So it's just not a good match. Manda and I will stay and hold down the camp site. Our job is harder, really, if you think about it. And anyhow, not sure I could eat something I saw alive anyway... I mean, I'm not much of a meat eater, and it's not like a bleeding heart issue or anything... just a grossness-factor issue. It's based upon the same principle that caused my mom to throw away 13 frozen chickens a year after we had to slaughter them. No one could bring themselves to eat one... And subsequently, we never raised another animal... unless you count Kristi. But I think she'd be gamey...
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