So Apropo…

Somebody that I routinely play PS3 Call Of Duty online with sent me this picture.

My screen name?

WarKittenz

If you want to play against me … or with me.. to see just how bad ass I am at this game, add me to your friend’s list. Just let me know on the invite that this is where you heard of me. I don’t accept invites if I don’t know who they’re from!

Terrible Twosome

MEET BELLA

Bella - Age 13

Bella is my 13 year old stray that I found when she was about 4 months old.. ravaged with fleas and ticks and who someone :: I’m assuming the person who dumped her in the park :: thought necessary to hack her tail off. Now she just has a stump that resembles a thumb when she tries to wag it.  Bella’s main interest in life is food and sleeping. She’ll sleep when no on is eating anything or will get up in the middle of the night with the munchies. More importantly, Bella only has about 3 teeth left. Nothing serious.. just something that happens with age. She’s a cranky old girl.. especially when Ernie gets his testosterone up and thinks she THE MOST beautiful creature in the world.

MEET ERNIE

Ernie - Age 2

Ernie is a Jack Russell / Beagle mix that we got on some farm in another state. I can’t tell you which farm.. can’t tell you which state. I can only tell you that I didn’t drive and upon approach, started bawling hysterically because of all the dogs that were kept in cages. Not one of my finer moments but it IS moments like that that make me endearing to a lot of people. Frustrating to others, though.

Ernie :: perfectly named, I might add :: was taken from his momma a bit too early and thus has this unusual need to be loved. In fact.. he is the black hole of love.. :: obnoxiously so :: draping himself over you like Sarah Bernhardt giving her best academy performance.

In fact, as I type this, his body is draped over my legs like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why I’m introducing you to these two.

Yesterday the boys had cleaned their room of all the unwanted junk and broken toys and ill fitting clothes and around 6pm, I was taking all the trash bags out back because today is trash day and if I don’t get the trash out by the sun breaking dawn, I’d have had to wait until Friday.

At any rate.. there’s a door in my kitchen that opens to the top of the basement. The basement stairs are to the right.. the door to the back yard is to the left. It’s a tight space but I’ve mastered closing the kitchen door and opening the back door with enough deftness that the dogs don’t run out.

Both dogs LOVE being outside but since I don’t have a fence around my property :: my land lords choice, not mine :: I can’t just let them run around freely. Plus, we live on the point of three intersecting roads and that’s just asking for trouble.

So yesterday, as I was in another part of the house getting more trash to take out, I hear dogs barking outside.

Specifically, MY dogs barking outside.

So I haul ass through the house to the kitchen and sure enough, the kitchen door and back door are wide open.

FUCK!

I yell BELLA! and immediately, she appears at the back steps and starts to come in.

Spaz hears me yelling and asks what’s the matter. I tell him that the dogs got out and I had to find Ernie. He asks me if I want him to help but I told him to keep an eye on Bella and watch the front of the house in case he comes around.

I know how he runs… he runs towards the cemetery.

As I look down the street, I see Ernie toward the corner. It’s a short block so I’m not panicking too much. There’s woman across the street from him with a black setter-mix who’s just staring at him so I tell her he’s mine and start approaching him.

He.. the little dick.. decides to run around the corner.

So I go running after him. Yes. Me running. You may want to notify the authorities in Indonesia to expect a tsunami.

As I round the corner.. this woman with the black setter-mix starts YELLING that my dog.. that! that! BLACK dog..  bit her dog. I tell her that I will be right over to her.. I just needed to get Ernie first.

I run half way down the block before he realizes UT OOH! IM GOING TO GET INTO TROUBLE FOR THIS and starts groveling towards me like he’s subjected to routine torture.

I pick him up and carry him back to the where the woman is standing with her black setter-mix and a complete look of disgust on her face.

HER: Yknow, you really shouldn’t let your dogs run wild like that.

ME: Ma’am.. I don’t let my dogs run wild. I was taking out the trash and didn’t close the back door tight enough and they ran out.

HER: Well.. that black dog bit my dog. I looked down and all I saw was his hair in it’s mouth.

ME: Ok.. let me put this one in the house and I’ll come right back to make sure he’s not injured.

HER: I don’t know if he’s hurt or not. I didn’t check.

ME: Ok.. well.. I’ll put Ernie in the house and…

HER: He was mauled. That dog just came out of nowhere and mauled him.

ME: Ma’am.. I understand you’re upset. I would be too. It’s a scary thing to have happened but I really don’t think he was mauled. Off the bat I don’t see any bleeding. But if you don’t want to wait here then take him home and check. If my dog injured him, I’ll take full responsibility. My name is Leese and I live in that really big white house right over there.

HER: I should call the cops on you!

Ok. This is where I start getting really REALLY frustrated. But I hold my temper because after all, it was my fault.

ME: Look, if you think it’s necessary to call the police then by all means.. please do but I’m telling you that I was at fault and if your dog needs medical attention that I will be more then happy to pay for it. You’re getting no argument from me about anything.

HER: You.. you people… let your dogs run wild around the neighborhood mauling other dogs…

ME: Ok.. now look.. so far I’ve been courtesy to you.. assumed fault and offered to compensate you if your dog needs a vet… but I’m really starting to get a little put off by your attitude since it’s apparent that you just want to argue

HER: YOUR. DOG. MAULED. MY. DOG!!!

ME: YOUR DOG ISN’T BLEEDING AND MY DOG HAS THREE TEETH!

That shut her up but I re-iterated that I was taking Ernie home.. told her what my name was again.. where I lived.. and turned and walked home.

After putting Ernie in the house, I then preceded to drive to our local pet store to buy dog licenses.

In my county, dogs are required to have a license. I went in January to get them but the county hadn’t issued them yet. I went back towards the end of January and they still didn’t have them.

I then forgot all about it.

Given all the drama that happened in January.. you can see why it would slip my mind.

So I drive down there and guess what? Still no licenses. The girl tell me that the only other option I have is to drive 2.5 hours to the county seat to apply for it.

Wonderful.

I get home and go online thinking that with some stroke of luck, they would accept the application on line but of course… luck isn’t on my side.

So all last night I was worried that something was going to come out of it but so far so good… I know Bella didn’t “maul” anything because she can barely chew kibble but what can I say…

A day in the life…!

I’ll keep you posted

The State FINALLY Does Something Right

So..

Haven’t heard anything from the crack whore since the texting episode what? Two weeks ago? Three? Don’t really remember. Time flies too fast since I got laid off.

I had asked Chief about a week ago if he had heard anything from her and he said he didn’t.. and that he told Weed to tell her that he was going to lay into her for always yknow.. doing what she does.

I can’t say that I believe him. Sometimes he tells me things.. or rather, OMITS things that he knows is just going to piss me off. Not that I approve of that either but that’s a whole separate issue.

At any rate… so today we’re at the shop and we’re in the back just goofing off when the phone rang. He goes to answer it and when I’m done doing what I’m doing I go to the front of the store and he’s still on the phone.

I hear him say “… well, yea, they’ll take it” and “ok” and “ok” and “.. i’ll look for it” and then “.. well, I got stuff on the stove so I can’t stay on the phone” and then he hangs up.

NOTE: He did not hang up because I was standing there

Here’s the convo:

HIM: Well, THAT’S the first time I didn’t mind talking to the cunt

ME: << eye roll >>

HIM: No.. she got a settlement and the state swooped in and they took all the back child support out so she was just calling to tell me that it should be in the account either tomorrow or Thursday

ME: So?

HIM: << scrambling >> that’s like 1600.00

ME: annnnnnd SO?

HIM: You at least have to be happy about that.

ME: Nothing about her makes me happy.. can’t blame me for that, right?

HIM: << not knowing what to say >>

ME: Whatever

See… I unnnndddeeerrrrssstttaaannnddd this thing between them. I do. But I don’t rely on her for anything… I don’t count on her for nothing. If the boys need something then I make sure they have it whether it’s from our joint account or my personal account.

Whether she sucks it up and pays the COURT ORDERED child support or not, the boys aren’t lacking anything necessary.

Whether the state finds out she had a settlement from some frivolous lawsuit or not, the boys aren’t lacking anything necessary.

NOTE: This whole lawsuit thing? Ok.. see if you can follow this. At the beginning of last summer, she moved into an apartment in the neighborhood where I grew up.. owned by a cousin of my psychotic ex husband. He boyfriend at the time was into crack and heroin and they needed money so they ripped up the carpet at the top of the stairs and she “pretended” to trip over the carpet and fall down the stairs.. then suing him. I found this out through her step-brother who apparently got the majority of his DNA from his father and not their mutual mother :: who’s also a piece of work :: I immediately contacted my ex cousin-in-law and gave him the low down. And apparently, he fought the good fight but obviously settled.

To me.. that’s like blood money. I’d much rather take the 43.00 a week she makes on her back. At least I know it was earned.

So no.. I’m not impressed that we’re going to have a bulk payment made. In fact, if I have my way, that money isn’t even going to be touched.

I .. at least.. know that my feelings and morals can’t be bought.

Chief, on the other hand, I dunno. But that’s not my fight. As long as I don’t have anything to do with her, then he can deal with her however he likes.

Leveling The Playing Field

So yesterday, some one who only identified themselves as Wow wrote this comment:

I’ve just spent a good bit of time reading your blog. I think the thing I have the hardest time with is why do you let the dogs shit in the house? If you paid attention to them, and took them for walks or let them out in the yard, they would do their business there.
When I read about “your kids” it makes me sad that they have turned into such reprobates. If I were you, I’d pack a bag and run like hell as far away from that group as possible before they suck you down to their level.

I commented back :: click on the ME page if you want to check it out :: but then got to thinking..

First of all.. I want to say that I don’t LET my dogs shit in my house. It isn’t an action that they seem my direct permission for but that would just sound defensive and in all honestly, there is no defensible stance regarding the dogs and their shit.

But anyway… so I got to thinking…

It’s so freakin’ obvious that I use this blog to vent .. much as I did my old fashioned paper journal.. but it was intended to document everything, not just the bad. Unfortunately, my human nature tends not to write when things are going well. Or, I right less often.

So in the essence of fairness, please note the following:

• Since the dog-shit-in-the-washer episode, Bubba has been more diligent about keeping the baby gate up at the bottom of the stairs.. therefore, no more dog shit upstairs.
• Since the whole Crack Whore texting episode and my subsequent blow-up at Chief, both the boys’ bedrooms have been neater then they ever been. NOT to my level of cleanliness, mind you :: my mother would be so proud :: but at least they are trying and that’s more then they were doing before.
• Spaz has been hitting the rack promptly at 9:30 without being told then there are some nights when he asks to stay up until 10 to finish watching a television show that he’s allowed to.. and then he promptly goes to bed without a reminder.
• The kitchen has been less and less of an atrocity. Whatever they dirty, they more or less have been cleaning up. Again, not to my liking but again.. they are trying.
• The trash can is being emptied and the bag changed without having to ask and so there are little strides that are being made. I’m all about the positive reinforcement and do recognize that they are making an effort and really, that’s all I can ask of them at this point.

So, to answer Wow’s question about why I have run screaming out of my house and moving far, far away? Well… I’m not going to deny that I still have my moments where I want to do that. There are challenges that still come up where I just want to say “Fuck It” … but as it stands now, I am making some kind of a difference in their lives and whether I’m just a step-mom or not, it’s what they need and what they’ve been lacking.

Saying “Fuck It” is the easy way out.. and anyone who knows me in real life knows that if given the choice of two roads, I will inherently choose the hardest one! LOL!