I Take It Back

Remember how I was mad that Lou broke my foot? I’m over it. Why? Because, this didn’t work:


Also, mice seem to love D-con, it’s like Centrum 1000 — it makes them stronger. For instance, this never happened:

dead kitchen

But, for the second time, Lou accidentally killed a mouse. Last time, he was laying down in front of his food bowl (he likes to eat in the prone position — I guess it goes down easier), and the mouse ran out. Too late, the mouse saw Lou and before he could run back under the stove, Lou reached up his big, masculine, hairy dog paw and smacked the mouse dead! I loved him unconditionally for 2 weeks.

Tonight, dead mouse courtesy of Lou was even better. He ACCIDENTALLY STEPPED ON IT! A slow mouse (maybbe the poison dazed him?) was making his way across the floor, and I said, “Lou, Lou! Come here and get the mouse!” Since “mouse” doesn’t rhyme with “treat”, the poor boy was confused, so he walked towards me slowly, and in the process, squished the hell out of the mouse! I’m going to cook him a hamburger right now.

Broke Down Pal-ass!

Man, oh, man! My foot is broken.


Want to know the sad thing about that? I didn’t break it playing squash, going on my morning 5 mile run, throwing my body in front of an oncoming car to save a child’s life. Nope. I broke it ’cause I was skeeved out about sleeping in my bedroom since I saw the mouse there. I broke it ’cause my skeeviness forced me to sleep on the couch in the living room (why? mice can get there, too, stupid). I broke it because my dog, Lou, looked at me sleeping on the couch, and said to himself, “You ain’t leaving me on the floor/in the bedroom to deal with the vermin. Move over, biotch”, and prompty jumped on the couch, one foot on my neck, the other three on my foot and broke it. He is the devil.

Bonus is I have a beautiful new blue shoe courtesy of one Dr. Simon Young (the best .. okay, the only podiatrist I’ve ever been to — but he was GOOD!) And, after three days of hobbling around the office and taking cabs to work, I know that I’m not crazy and that I have a super-high tolerance for pain. Bring it. I get a full-blown walking cast tomorrow. I hope they have it in pink. Later – j.

The Real Story

I will love you if your arms are strong, like a man’s!

Let me test your strength!

Ha, ha, ha! You lose. Strong black woman, indeed!

I will pee on your couch to mark my victorious territory!

Also, I need to laugh in your face!

Yes, yes! These arms are firm, and have the power to make me straight! Ha-ha-ha!

Surrounded by Crooks!

I just spent $600 this month boarding Lou at what I now consider a substandard institution, UNIVERSITY ANIMAL HOSPITAL on 66th Street in NY. I say that I CONSIDER it substandard to avoid a counter strike of libel/slander. I provide the address so YOU NEVER GO THERE. I just picked him up today, and am still getting over being angry. Did I ask for my dog to be bathed? Yep. Did they bathe him? Nope. Did I provide them with his vitamin supplements (AT LEAST 70 pills left in the pack)? Yep, again. Did they give them to him? Apparently so, and boy, did they, because he must have been eating 10 (as opposed to 4) a day, since they claimed they were all gone. I had heard from other people that it was a crooked place — they never give your food back, etc. — but, I just HAD to learn for myself. (Thank heaven for PET TAXI – 212-755-1757 — they are awesome and fun and always meet me on time to take Lou wherever he needs to go. They picked us up today and I spent 10 minutes in the car complaining about UNIVERSITY ANIMAL HOSPITAL (which sucks, in my opinion, by the way) and 20 minutes laughing my ass off with Pete, my driver.)

The sad thing is, they had an opportunity to keep a good paying customer — I mean, I have to board Lou at least once a month for work/travel, so that’s $300 bucks a pop. Now, let’s take a trip back to first year marketing in B-school. We all know that the customer may not always be “actually right”, but they should for sure be right enough for them to come back. They had an opportunity to appease me at a cost to them of $40 — really not a cost to them, since I’m sure they’ve got his Synovi G3 there somewhere and are right now shoveling it down the throat of some rich woman’s boston terrier. How hard would it be to apologize and offer a discount on my fee, or a replacement of the meds? Not hard at all. It won’t matter in the end, rich people from the UWS will still take their tiny dogs there with their tiny sweaters, but they’ll NEVER get my business again. If they only knew. Uptown Hound will for sure tell our clients not to go there … or to go expecting to be cheated.

In other news, as soon as we got home, Lou jumped on the bed and ate my favorite lipstick. I guess he was hungry. Also, UNIVERSITY ANIMAL HOSPITAL sucks … in my opinion. Later – j.

Wander Indiana

I just got back from Indianapolis for a business trip with my boss and, well … my other bosses, I guess. I think pretty much everybody is the boss of me. I find that my coworkers are a hilarious bunch, and I think I like them pretty much. It’s nice to travel with people that you like. The bad news is that when I got back, the mouse was still in my house. Here is my proposed solution:


Also, more poison. Later – j.

Work is for Suckers

I’m not kidding. I have this new assignment that is kicking my butt on a regular basis, and makes me stay up until the wee hours of the night emailing people on the West Coast. If it were up to me, there’d be no time zones. You just get up when I do, and that’s it! The sad thing is I like what I’m doing, I feel valued and like I contribute, but I am just too darned sleepy to revel in that.

Speaking of sleepy, don’t oversleep and forget to call your mama on Sunday. It’s Mothers’ Day. I think that’s right …? Should it be Mother’s Day? I’m not sure. Also, I don’t know about purposefully vs. purposely — write a comment and tell me about appropriate usage, because it’s driving me nuts. Oh, and also, do you pronounce chickanery with a “ch” sound like “church”, or a “sh” sound like “chic”? This is a conversation I had at work today with the coworker I like the best, but I still want to be right, so vote for “church”, please.

I’m going to the big, bright, parochial lights of Cincinnati, Ohio next week to get my tumor –which I’ve named Leroy because it’s just that big — examined by a doctor. I have to go there to have the surgery, because I can’t spend 6 weeks of recovery on my back in Harlem. I need to be out with the people, yanking chicken/oxtail (yes, oxtail — this is another thing I’m gearing up to count) out of Lou’s mouth, or it’s just no good. Instead, I’ll luxuriate in decadent comfort (this is not a joke, either) at my parents’ house. Lou is going to take his first ever plane trip with me to go next week, and will be able to luxuriate for several weeks until I come back for the surgery. Lucky dog.
Bonus? I can spread D-con over every floor, every surface in the house before I go, so Beau, Benilda, and Barry (I think there’s three different mice … but, maybe it’s the same one, just dressed differently) can eat, eat, eat, and then die, die, die. I can’t wait to sweep up the little brown deadies when I get back.