Cute, isn’t she? And tiny. Tiny enough to be stepped on, if not for the fact her human will flail and hop around like a Cirque du Soleil act gone horribly, horribly wrong to avoid crushing her.
Okay, so SK’s a kinda-short 9.5 year old. My husband’s truck has a switch so you can turn off the passenger-side airbag. My car does not. Today was SK’s last day of school and he got out at 12:45. Because I had to do an extra errand this morning because my husband forgot something, I was able to guilt him into picking the child up.
Mr S: He can’t ride in the front, can he?
Me: I usually let him, if TK’s not with us.
He went out the door and I was halfway to the kitchen when I realized he’d taken my car keys. That was just about the time I heard my car start. I turned and started to run which, along with the cursing, caused the dog to fear something horrible was happening on the porch. Her path to the door coincided with mine, her barking and me swearing like a drunken sailor.
So began the ballet from Hell while I tried to get to the door without stepping on my cute, tiny dog. Wrenched my knee, stubbed my toe, knocked my wrist on door trim and broke a nail, but I didn’t kill my dog and managed to catch my husband in time to tell him, no, SK can’t ride in the front seat in the car.
Lesson learned: next time, very calmly hit 2 on my cellphone’s speed-dial and tell him what it is I need to tell him.
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Lord Have Mercy!
I do that with Kitty Chesney. Yesterday on the basement stairs. While your dog isn’t TRYING to kill you, I suspect Kitty Chesney knows what he’s doing.
Hope you’re ok.
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She is so precious. I’d be willing to break a leg to avoid hurting her.
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Oh, cats are an entirely different level of diabolical. Funny how they think doing figure-eights around your ankles while you’re carrying a laundry basket down the stairs is great fun.
She is precious. But I wish she was a little less high-strung.
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Oy! Sorry for the bruises, but glad SK and puppy are all good.
Off topic, my parakeet has a new jones (these change often). Coffee. Not full strength or a lot, but I won’t go into the how’s of that so as not to rile the squeamish. (It’s something I learned from my British BFF when I was twelve or so. They lubs their budgies.)
Anyhoo, I’ll come down for coffee and suddenly hear the sound of little bird tootsies racing across the back of my overstuffed couch to rest near my ear. Turn my head and she’s (really a he) staring at me intently and bobbing up and down. To ignore is not an option. One lifted arm in any manner means… a perch for coffee.
Crazy bird.
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Does it affect birds like it does people? (I don’t know a lot about birds because I’m afraid of them.)
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I’m afraid of birds too.
They have little evil bird eyes and claws and pecking beaks.
I was once attacked by a Mockingbird and learned that is TYPICAL Mockingbird behavior. Don’t trust birds. Not one bit.
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I’m not sure if it coffee affects birds like people.
All I know is she gets her jones on for different things, just like people. For a month or so, it’s spaghetti noodles, then she won’t touch them. Then it’s egg whites. Then it’s buttered toast. Then it’s coffee. Then it’s, of all things, chicken. Also, celery makes my bird act like a cat on catnip. Rubbing her head all over it and stuff.
And as far as bigger birds, I fear them, too. Beaks are far too large. My bird, though, you can rub her belly and the like. She playfully nips a bit for the sport of it, then settles in for the rub.
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Awww. She’s cute. I have the opposite problem with my dogs; when it’s time to go out they head for the door like a herd of bison. More than once they’ve almost knocked me over– and I really don’t think they’re greatly concerned by that.