Tuesday, September 28, 2004
And so he strikes, yet again...
The NoodleDog struck last night, with all the fury of a crafty, neglected puppy. I feel bad, now, because in retrospect, I should have been more understanding of his personal needs for attention and hugs, and I should have been more aware of his feelings. However, at 3:30a, I wasn’t exactly thinking about the NoodleDog’s feelings, I was thinking about how little sleep I was getting.
The story goes that since I had a meeting in town last night, we stayed over at Rob’s place, which is close to where the meeting was. I rushed home yesterday afternoon to feed the kitties and collect the NoodleDog, and then dropped him off at Rob’s and had a quick bite to eat. I got back from the meeting not too late, we watched a little TV, and then just went to bed. Tired people, here. We had a rough weekend what with the extra drinking and all.
But at around 3:30a, the NoodleDog woke up. Emitting a toxic stench in small puffs of air from his behind, he stood by the door in the room, staring intently at it, which I surmised meant he had to pee. Rob kindly took him out for me. However, when he brought the NoodleDog back, the intense stink had not subsided. We cracked the window, which didn’t help. I thought well, maybe he has to poop. Poor guy. I’ll just let him out back so he can do his business, and I’ll go back to sleep.
I let him out, and how does he repay me? He exacts a carefully crafted vengeance to rob me of my sleep by creating as much noise as a NoodleDog can without being too obvious about it. See, the noises were just little playing noises, since he was playing with Cooter. They got onto the tarp in the back yard, which crinkled. Crinkle-crinkle-crinkle.
Rob: What’s that?
Me: I have no idea.
Rob: I better check. [goes to window to look] Hey. You. Yeah, you dogs. Get off the tarp! Don’t give me that look. Get outta there. Hey! [NoodleDog]! Cooter! Come! You’re fine, just stay off the damn tarp.
Me: Arrrg.
Then, about five minutes later, when it’s been just enough time for me to try to relax, the NoodleDog barks. A single bark, just loud enough for me to start worrying that he’s going to wake up the neighborhood if he does it again, which he does not. I try to relax. Several moments later, there is the distinct sound of thrashing around outside the window. Thrash-thrash-thrash.
Me: Mmrrrrggg!! [into the pillow]
Rob: snores lightly
I try desperately to ignore the trashing, which eventually stops. Then, another single bark. Then silence. Then the sound of someone crashing full-speed into a lawn chair. Then more silence. Then more thrashing, the occasional running across the tarp, the odd bark here and there, until finally, I say to myself “If I hear ONE MORE NOISE, I’m gonna SNAP!!!”
And then I waited.
And I waited.
And I waited about one more minute, and then there was a bark, and that was it. Furiously, I threw off the covers and got out of bed, dressed and told a slightly stunned and freshly-awoken Rob that was it, I couldn’t sleep and had to leave that minute at quarter to five in the morning. I harnessed the NoodleDog, who didn’t want to go, strapped him into the car, and didn’t talk to him at all the whole way home, which is about a 25-minute drive. He could tell I was mad at him by the time we got home, and he was very hesitant about getting onto the bed, which of course just made me feel bad about the whole incident, because it’s not his fault that he’s a dopey dog instead of a clever, quiet cat. That, in turn, made me angry that I was feeling bad and unable to sleep, so I suppressed my rage into a tiny ball in the pit of my stomach, told the NoodleDog it was OK, he could get up and sleep, and then tried desperately to get back to sleep before the alarm rang at 7a.
Perhaps I overreacted. Perhaps I did not. Perhaps that was the only way I could salvage an hour of precious, precious sleep. Sleep is a hot commodity in my newly Robified world, and if I don’t get enough sleep, I tense up even more than I usually do, which is probably a lot. Oh, I worry quietly enough, but eventually, all that tension is going to tarnish my otherwise sparkling personality, and I’m going to come off all morose and freaky. Ha! “Going to”.
Today, I worry about the NoodleDog, who is apparently stinky for some reason, and feeling neglected, and who I have possibly been underfeeding for about eight or nine months now, since I read the back of the dog food bag yesterday and it said I should be giving him about two cups more of food per day than I have been. Poor NoodleDog! But then again, maybe the stink last night was because I overfed him. I’m not a vet! I don’t know these things! How can such a relatively small dog produce such a horrible, horrible smell? I’ve smelled skunks that smelled better. Seriously.
Yeah? It’s not gonna matter what the cause is if he keeps me up tonight.
The story goes that since I had a meeting in town last night, we stayed over at Rob’s place, which is close to where the meeting was. I rushed home yesterday afternoon to feed the kitties and collect the NoodleDog, and then dropped him off at Rob’s and had a quick bite to eat. I got back from the meeting not too late, we watched a little TV, and then just went to bed. Tired people, here. We had a rough weekend what with the extra drinking and all.
But at around 3:30a, the NoodleDog woke up. Emitting a toxic stench in small puffs of air from his behind, he stood by the door in the room, staring intently at it, which I surmised meant he had to pee. Rob kindly took him out for me. However, when he brought the NoodleDog back, the intense stink had not subsided. We cracked the window, which didn’t help. I thought well, maybe he has to poop. Poor guy. I’ll just let him out back so he can do his business, and I’ll go back to sleep.
I let him out, and how does he repay me? He exacts a carefully crafted vengeance to rob me of my sleep by creating as much noise as a NoodleDog can without being too obvious about it. See, the noises were just little playing noises, since he was playing with Cooter. They got onto the tarp in the back yard, which crinkled. Crinkle-crinkle-crinkle.
Rob: What’s that?
Me: I have no idea.
Rob: I better check. [goes to window to look] Hey. You. Yeah, you dogs. Get off the tarp! Don’t give me that look. Get outta there. Hey! [NoodleDog]! Cooter! Come! You’re fine, just stay off the damn tarp.
Me: Arrrg.
Then, about five minutes later, when it’s been just enough time for me to try to relax, the NoodleDog barks. A single bark, just loud enough for me to start worrying that he’s going to wake up the neighborhood if he does it again, which he does not. I try to relax. Several moments later, there is the distinct sound of thrashing around outside the window. Thrash-thrash-thrash.
Me: Mmrrrrggg!! [into the pillow]
Rob: snores lightly
I try desperately to ignore the trashing, which eventually stops. Then, another single bark. Then silence. Then the sound of someone crashing full-speed into a lawn chair. Then more silence. Then more thrashing, the occasional running across the tarp, the odd bark here and there, until finally, I say to myself “If I hear ONE MORE NOISE, I’m gonna SNAP!!!”
And then I waited.
And I waited.
And I waited about one more minute, and then there was a bark, and that was it. Furiously, I threw off the covers and got out of bed, dressed and told a slightly stunned and freshly-awoken Rob that was it, I couldn’t sleep and had to leave that minute at quarter to five in the morning. I harnessed the NoodleDog, who didn’t want to go, strapped him into the car, and didn’t talk to him at all the whole way home, which is about a 25-minute drive. He could tell I was mad at him by the time we got home, and he was very hesitant about getting onto the bed, which of course just made me feel bad about the whole incident, because it’s not his fault that he’s a dopey dog instead of a clever, quiet cat. That, in turn, made me angry that I was feeling bad and unable to sleep, so I suppressed my rage into a tiny ball in the pit of my stomach, told the NoodleDog it was OK, he could get up and sleep, and then tried desperately to get back to sleep before the alarm rang at 7a.
Perhaps I overreacted. Perhaps I did not. Perhaps that was the only way I could salvage an hour of precious, precious sleep. Sleep is a hot commodity in my newly Robified world, and if I don’t get enough sleep, I tense up even more than I usually do, which is probably a lot. Oh, I worry quietly enough, but eventually, all that tension is going to tarnish my otherwise sparkling personality, and I’m going to come off all morose and freaky. Ha! “Going to”.
Today, I worry about the NoodleDog, who is apparently stinky for some reason, and feeling neglected, and who I have possibly been underfeeding for about eight or nine months now, since I read the back of the dog food bag yesterday and it said I should be giving him about two cups more of food per day than I have been. Poor NoodleDog! But then again, maybe the stink last night was because I overfed him. I’m not a vet! I don’t know these things! How can such a relatively small dog produce such a horrible, horrible smell? I’ve smelled skunks that smelled better. Seriously.
Yeah? It’s not gonna matter what the cause is if he keeps me up tonight.
