In case I haven’t been clear, I call her Little Incredibly Dumb Dog for a reason.  She is sweet and soft and smooshable, but wow. With all my doggie experience, she is the dumbest dog I’ve ever known, let alone owned.

Despite my best efforts, at over a year old she still isn’t completely housebroken.  Every couple of months I’m lulled into thinking we have found success, “hey, it’s been two weeks since she had an accident!” Inevitably, the day comes where she forgets to wait and yuck, yuck, yuck. Let’s just say my floors have never been cleaned so regularly.  Which sucks, because my floors aren’t actual hardwood, they’re a pressboard veneer so they can’t be refinished.

She also still loves to chew on things she shouldn’t. Mostly items that belong to Flower Child and me. I’m down to one clip for my hair. I am not an inexperienced dog owner, she has many toys of her own to chew on, treats, balls, regular walks, and Big Senile Dog to pester play with.

You can and do learn a lot about the neighborhood when walking dogs. One thing I’ve learned is that apparently we’ve got a huge number of folks practicing Voodoo.

It’s the only reason I can think of for the regular scattering of chicken bones on the curbs.

Well, there is that one guy who sits on the concrete fence with a styrofoam platter of chicharrones de pollo (Dominican fried chicken), but he’s always very helpful, pointing out the bones he’s tossing on the asphalt, so I can pull the dogs away.  Thanks, buddy! Seriously New York, wtf are you doing? This isn’t the ’70s anymore, there’s a trash can on every corner. Chicken bones can choke a dog, puncture their intestines, and kill them. Skipping those extremes, the bones also cause puking and excessive pooping.

So, when I woke up this morning and saw a dark oblong object on the floor next to one of the dog beds, I assumed it was a Little Dumb Dog log. This was before I’d actually made it into the bathroom to squirt some contact lens solution into my eyes, everything is kinda fuzzy for me that early in the day.

I was happy to be wrong for about a tenth of a second.  There on the floor was the chewed remnants of the bluetooth for my cell phone. I loved that thing. It made my life much easier and more convenient than Little Incredibly Dumb Dog does. Easily one of the top five gifts I’ve gotten, and it’s definitely not in the budget to replace it now.

To the moon, freakin fluffball!