Wonderbutt Comes Out of the Closet – And Goes Back In

I think this whole situation has been the hardest on my husband.  It’s not that he isn’t open-minded about such things.  It’s just hard to have certain expectations and suddenly be faced with the fact that a member of your family has unusual interests that don’t line up with societal norms.

I remember vividly the day that Wonderbutt first came out of the closet.  In the middle of the night, I heard something stirring outside the bedroom door.  I opened it to find Wonderbutt, who usually sleeps in the living room.  He immediately rushed into the bedroom, looking fearfully behind him.  Either he’d had a nightmare that a giant Spot Bot was about to consume him, or his rear end was bothering him.  Either way, I was too tired to shoo him back out of the room.  So, I closed the door, whispered for him to go lay down on the floor, and went back to sleep.

My husband didn’t witness any of this.  When he got up the next morning to go to work, I just folded a pillow over my head as usual and resumed sleeping.

Suddenly, “What the f—?!!!!”

I leapt up, just in time to see Wonderbutt making a beeline out of the closet as my husband tried to regain his balance after being rammed by the dog who had, unbeknownst to him, decided to nap behind the hanging clothes.

It appears that Wonderbutt enjoyed this unexpected reaction to his closet exodus – as he continues to repeat the performance on a regular basis.  It’s gotten to the point where my husband and I both enter the closet with extreme caution, never certain if we will be able to complete the mundane task of grabbing a shirt off a hanger or forced to leap into the air to avoid a missile hurtling out from its hiding place under one of my lacy negligees.

 

I suppose we shouldn’t find Wonderbutt’s affinity for the closet to be all that startling, considering his nightly routine of draping himself with the dining room curtains every time we eat dinner.  We also often find him half-buried underneath the dust ruffles of our beds – the less attractive end that earned him his nickname always sticking out.

We’ll always love Wonderbutt – no matter what unconventional activities he pursues.

It would be nice, though, to not have to worry about being confronted by a capricious canine every time we change our clothes.

 

I’m Starting to Think a Minecraft House is a Good Idea

Wonderbutt the War-Waging Bulldog has been on a literal tear lately.  Markers, socks, Rainbow Loom rubber bands – nothing is safe from him.  I would threaten him with coal in his stocking, but he would just eat that, too.  The coal and the stocking.

We came home the other day to find that the kitchen was Ground Zero.  Placemats, kitchen towels, newspapers, and Dimples’ book were all victims of Wonderbutt’s fury.  And just when we thought we had it all cleaned up, we found one of Dimples’ birthday cards right outside the dog door, like a welcome mat for the Poop Pen.

Does Homeowner’s Insurance cover this?  Or is it considered an “Act of God”?  Maybe an “Act of Dog”?

(Click on the thumbnails to see a larger view of mass destruction.)

Yep. Never gonna use that placemat again.

The wet spot is not pee. Wonderbutt obsessively licks his beds. Don’t ask me why. Don’t ask me why he does anything.

He is communicating something, I am sure, by leaving the card intact, but placing it outside.

Don’t feel sorry for him. He feels no remorse.

I’m The Only Person Who Actually LOSES Money By Writing a Blog

I was deeply engrossed in typing a thought-provoking post for my teaching blog yesterday with my faithful bulldog, Wonderbutt, happily chewing on one of his many bones a few feet away from me.  After about 30 minutes of peace, my daughter walked into the room, and screeched.  I jumped and reluctantly dragged myself away from a passionate sentence I was in the middle of writing.  When I followed the direction of Dimples’ horrified gaze, I saw Wonderbutt exactly where he had been the entire time.  His leg was covered in blood and there was a sea of red on the floor surrounding him.

I leapt out of the chair, and ran to him, horrified at the pain he must be in (as well as the thought of more veterinary bills) – only to discover that he was chewing on the cap of a red marker.  The marker, itself, had apparently already been ingested.  It was evident from the appearance of Wonderbutt’s leg and the carpeting, though, that none of the ink actually made it into his stomach.

I didn’t yell at him.  I was too mad at myself for being oblivious while he painstakingly set about destroying yet another square yard of our carpeting 3 feet from where I was sitting.

I got my revenge, however, when I dragged out our portable carpet cleaner, and hit the button for it to do its automated scrubbing. Wonderbutt was confused by the noisy interloper, and slowly approached the menace.  Just as he got close, the SpotBot finished its cycle, and started beeping, nearly creating a bulldog pancake on our popcorn ceiling.

Note to self:  when cleaning the carpet with a loud, unpredictable machine, remove Wonderbutt from the vicinity.  A frightened Wonderbutt tends to create even more spots on the carpet.

More Proof that I am a Horrible Dog Mom

Wonderbutt taking a break from reading his Oprah magazine

Friends and family might tell you that I am a fairly ethical person.  (If the topic came up.  But, really, why would it?  I mean, are you going to be standing around together at some bar talking about how the Cowboys lost again, and then say, “Hey, you know that Mrs. Cap’n Firepants?  Would you say that she is ethical?”)  The truth, though, whether you choose to discuss it or not, is that I am less ethical than I am scared of being caught doing something wrong.  Which really stems from my caring way too much about what other people think about me.  And that pretty much explains everything about me in a nutshell, according to my psychiatrist anyway.

The reason this makes me a horrible dog mom is that our dog, Wonderbutt, has been limping for a week and a half.  He has done this before, and recovered in about 5 or 6 days.  But he does not seem to be recovering this time.  So, I’m thinking he needs to be taken to the vet.  But I don’t want to take him.  Because I know that they are going to say the only way they can help him is going to cost me a million dollars and 95 cents.  And then I’m going to have to sell a lung or something.  Which leads me back to the problem of worrying about getting caught, because I think that’s kind of illegal.

The thing is, I have had a brochure on Pet Insurance on my desk for the last year, and I keep putting off purchasing it because I’m too lazy to do the research on the 65 different pet insurance companies and Consumer Reports says that I would do just as well to open a savings account for my pet (which I haven’t done, either).  Considering that I only have $2 in my daughter’s savings account, I figure the dog probably should not take precedence.  Of course, the daughter does have health insurance – just maybe not a future college education.  But, does my dog need a future college education?

Now I’m confused.

I realize, now, that if I had the Pet Insurance it might offset some of the million dollars.  But I don’t.  But I could get it, and then I could hang out for the waiting period, and then take Wonderbutt in to the vet.

But I can’t do that.

Besides the fact that I’ve just advertised that I even entertained the thought of trying to take advantage of that little loophole, there is the small matter of the fact that I always get caught when I do something wrong.  Always.

Plus, there is the possibility that Wonderbutt is in pain.  Though it’s hard to tell because he always looks unhappy, and he is snoring and farting just as much as usual.

To compound my guilt, I ran across this product, and immediately thought, “What idiot would buy this?  IF MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THE TIME TO STRAP A FIREPROOF COAT ONTO MY DOG!”  And then I felt bad.  Especially when I read the part about protecting my dog from falling objects when we walk through construction areas.  I can’t believe that I am so selfish that I haven’t already bought this for Wonderbutt just in case Wile E. Coyote tries to drop an anvil on him the next time we go for a walk.

Which we can’t even do because the poor dog is limping.

I suck.

FireandAnvilProof Dog Coat

UPDATE:  I just realized that I should not advertise this coat as being Anvil Proof.  I don’t really think it can keep you from getting smushed by an anvil.  So, if this is a real concern of yours, please don’t buy this coat based on my advice.  Truth be told, I am not really advising that you buy this product at all.  (I’m covered, legally, now.  Right?)

Forget the Milk. It Does a Number on My Sensitive Stomach.

 

 

In honor of See What Dangerous Items Your Dog Can Eat Without Needing to Be Taken to the Emergency Vet Clinic Month*, Wonderbutt has been making great strides in his clinical research.

The other night we discovered his “pad” looking like it had been invaded by a homeless (note the newspaper section) junkie afflicted with the munchies.

No one could attest to how many oreos had been in the package when it was left on the counter, and no one could figure out how Wonderbutt could get to the package on the counter, which is ten feet higher than the top of his head.

Dimples and I had noticed that evening that Wonderbutt seemed gassier than usual.  He was kind enough to emphasize this by sitting between us with his bottom aimed at our faces and releasing a not-so-silent-but-just-as-deadly sample for us to sniff.

By the time we discovered the probable cause for his unstable stomach, it seemed ridiculous to call the vet to inquire about possible chocolate poisoning when we  would be forced to declare excessive stinkiness as his only symptom.

In a related story, I was informed by my sister, Crash, that her dog had chosen the same day to ingest a Harry Potter DVD and portions of some scrapbooks.  It’s obvious Wonderbutt texted orders to his cousin to get cracking on her contribution to this month’s research project or else be in danger of losing all funding.

I can’t wait until this month is over.

 

* October is National Bullying Prevention Month, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month (We don’t want to prevent Breast Cancer – just be aware of it this month, I guess), Clergy Appreciation Month, and Sarcastic Month.  That’s just a sampling.  Here’s more if you are really curious.  There is apparently no one in charge of Month Declaring, so people can just willy nilly announce that any month is special for whatever reason.  I officially declare November to be Worldwide Cut-Out-Trying-to-Monopolize-the-Calendar Month.

If We Were in Biology Class, This Would Be The Frog

I told Wonderbutt not to stay that way for too long or someone might think he’s ready for dissection.

Wonderbutt Goes to Starbucks

I always wanted a Starbucks dog.

You know the type.  The owner sits at sidewalk table sipping her coffee while the dog calmly snoozes on the ground behind her chair.  His tail wags every once in awhile as other people approach and ask leave to pet him.  The owner smiles and nods, and everyone comments on the laid-back canine’s sophistication and fine manners.

It was pretty clear nearly from the outset that Wonderbutt would not be a Starbucks dog.

An animal who Poops as He Walks (and farts to the beat of the Texas Two-Step when he is still) is generally not welcomed by patrons of eating establishments or coffee shops.

Nevertheless, after nearly 3 years of holding out hope that Wonderbutt would one day develop some social graces, I decided to stop waiting for San Antonio Hell to freeze over and just take him to Starbucks anyway.

When I informed my husband (the long suffering Cap’n Firepants) of this plan, he gave me the why-don’t-you-just-check-yourself-into- a-mental-hospital-and-save-us-all-a-lot-of-trouble look that he has been giving me more and more often lately.

But he has learned that I must make my own mistakes because, like Wonderbutt, I will scratch my butt when I have an itch – even if it means that I am going to fall over backwards and bonk my head on the concrete floor.

I was grimly certain that this was going to turn into some kind of Marley and Me fiasco, with the not too remote chance of being banned from every Starbucks in the universe after an episode of Wonderbutt humping a few customers, wrapping his leash around a table, and dragging it into the adjacent Trader Joe’s parking lot.

But I figured, “At least I make sure he poops before we leave the house.”

I used my new trick of letting him into the part of the yard where he is never allowed to poop which, of course, makes it inevitable that he will indeed defecate right on the walking path.  I sealed the deal by dramatically declaring, “Oh, no!  Please don’t poop there!”  And, of course, that is exactly what he did.

Then, we hopped in the car to take Dimples to swim practice, and continued on to Starbucks with my backpack full of plastic bags for the rest of the poop that I knew would follow as soon as Wonderbutt realized that his “movements” were restricted.

Cap’n Firepants met me at Starbucks, and sat outside with Wonderbutt as I picked up our order.  Then, the three of us hung out under the shade – waiting.

I was waiting for Wonderbutt to invent a new way to embarrass me, but it seems that I was doomed to be disappointed.  Although he was certainly not the laid-back Starbucks dog of my dreams, he was surprisingly well-behaved.  There were two other groups of people on the patio – who completely ignored him.   Other than approaching every new person that entered the area in the hope of licking them, Wonderbutt remained by us – alert, but somewhat disappointed by the lack of attention he was receiving.  He didn’t seem to understand the point of this new activity, but was not completely adverse to sacrificing the boredom of the lonely kitchen for this exciting change of scenery.

Overall, to the surprise of all parties involved, the experiment was a success.  Wonderbutt lasted two hours at Starbucks without getting us kicked out or threatened with a lawsuit.  I guess, if I want blog fodder, I will have to become a bit more adventurous.

Stay tuned for the next installment: Wonderbutt Goes to Church and Burps During the Homily.

Don’t worry.  I’ll still bring the plastic bags – just in case.

Please come over here, nice stranger. I promise not to fart.

I don’t understand why everyone is sitting so far away from me. Do I smell or something?

 

 

He is Not Satiated – And May Soon (Well, Maybe One Day) Be Emaciated – Meaning I Have Definitely Not Ingratiated Myself to Wonderbutt

Wonderbutt is not pleased with me right now.  It’s quite possible our leather furniture, which has lasted over a year according to our countdown widget, may be in jeopardy.

We recently took him to the vet, and he weighed a whopping 77 pounds.  Technically, he is supposed to be around 50 pounds.  So, he is now on new food that is,  ironically, called, “Satiety.”  And he DOES. NOT. LIKE. IT.

My first clue was when I woke up this morning, and he was waiting forlornly in the hall for me.  Cap’n Firepants gets up long before me on the weekends, and was already out and about.  I went into the kitchen to get some breakfast, and Wonderbutt tagged along.  He walked straight to his food dish, and nosed around it.

I heard food moving, and looked at the dish.  If the Cap’n had already fed him, then the food should have been long gone.  Wonderbutt never leaves food in his dish.

Until now.

He looked up at me, as if to say, “Look what that idiot fed me this morning.  Can you give me some real food now?”

I tried mixing some of his old food in with the new.

Nothing doing.  Of course, there are other things I could add to the food to make it more palatable, but that would kind of defeat the calorie reduction purpose of this whole enterprise.

The Cap’n seems to think Wonderbutt can stand a couple of days without eating, and that he will eat the food when he gets hungry.

I am absolutely certain Wonderbutt will eat when he gets hungry.  The problem is – I don’t think it will be the food.

It’s pretty bad when a dog who has no problem eating a carpet padding, books, hair barrettes, dead geckoes, and the foam of several sofa cushions refuses to eat his kibble.

Please send all donations to feedthestarvingbulldog@wonderbutt.org-anicfoodsux

Wonderbutt maintains a safe distance from the offending food bowl.

Dimples uses her power of persuasion to attempt to convince Wonderbutt to eat. Didn’t work.

Do You Think This Could Work on Eliot Spitzer?

Well, I’m not sure what I could possibly say at this point to get back the 7 readers who visited my blog today.  I think I actually had more readers the very first day I posted than have visited today.  I can only deduce that I offended all of the men in the universe with my “complisult” post, and burned off the eyeballs of pretty much everyone else with my “twerking” post.  I would like to blame it on the Labor Day weekend, but even though I am a self-centered American, I am pretty sure that we are the only country celebrating that right now – so that doesn’t explain why my 2 Bolivian fans or the guy in Martinique who religiously reads every post have suddenly deserted me.  A big shout out to Singapore, though!  Way to prove your loyalty!  Thanks for not ditching me – or for at least convincing two people to visit my blog every day.

It’s clear that I’ve been a bit too self-involved, lately, and that is obviously turning away readers.  So, I hope I can coax at least the males back by sharing a new invention that I discovered recently.  By “discovered”, I do not mean that I invented it.  I mean that I was wandering the internet, looking for more diseases to pin on my Pathophobic Pinterest Board, and came across this post which I bookmarked under “Things that I May Want to Blog About in the Future Because They Are a Bit Unusual.”    And, though this does not directly effect human males, any couple who has decided to get their dog neutered knows that there is always one person, usually the one with the most testosterone, who argues against the necessity of this “barbaric” surgery as he subconsciously protects his own groin area.

Ladies and Gentlemen – mostly gentlemen – I give you the Stud Stopper.  You’re welcome.

Do me a favor, please, and don’t mention the existence of this device to Wonderbutt. Sadly, it’s too late for him.
photo credit: Stud Stopper

 

 

My Secret is Out

Okay, I guess I might as well confess, even though most of you have probably figured this out.

When I’ve had a really busy day, or my writing synapses suddenly stop firing, I bombard you with Wonderbutt pictures.  School started today – so I had my first day, Dimples started middle school (and piano lessons), and Wonderbutt was suddenly abandoned after a summer of constant companionship.  It was stressful on all of us 😦

Sure, he looks peaceful, but I swear on the Jedi force that, as soon as I clicked the button on my iPhone, Wonderbutt leapt off his bed and tried to eat my face.

This was how Wonderbutt chose to listen to my bedtime reading last night – snoring behind Calvin & Hobbes, his death-gas-emitting derriere aimed directly at my face.

And this is my attempt to find a productive way to use a free app that I downloaded.  I only spent 2 hours, and made 2000 different versions before I settled on the first one.