Marley and Us.

We're dog-sitting Mr. Morgan's, Dad's dog, Marley for a a couple of weeks.  She is a nice dog, and tries really hard not to be an interruption to anything normal here.  That means she tiptoes.  Adversely to the lovely soft trot of a large canine.... she has a mouth on her that can cause the most sane and loving people to fight over nothing.  Her voice creates chaos.  This great beast is blessed with beauty and manners, and has more grace than Kylee or I could ever hope to pull off, but in exchange she really gets to using her mouth and refusing to be reasoned with about it.  It has the impact of a fart that clears a room in ten seconds.

Simon is none too pleased as you can expect, practically shitting himself when she came into the house screaming at his sister "Oh my god!  There are MORE of you???"  I think I last saw him yesterday or thereabouts.


Marley is receiving all the spoils and what not my dogs get but he being here has brought up an aspect of me that I hadn't really thought about.  I am a fucking house czar!  Watch the clip below from Curb, and think of the conversation as Larry being Marley, and me as the other actor (incidentally named Dog). 





Much like Larry, Marley does not understand that there can be - no. bullshit. on. this. counter.  We have had a bit of knocking heads over it, she ultimately thinks I'm moving her shit for no reason and I ultimately blame my dogs for throwing her under the bus and not letting her in on the rules.  It may take you ten seconds Marley, but my voice clears a room in five, count em.


Marley/Kylee/Simon property goes in dog sanctioned areas  (Ok Simon doesn't have property but still).  That's how it is and where it belongs.  We can't have willy-nilly all over or I melt down.  I didn't know I melted down over silly simple shit.  I merely suspected it was a peeve, based on the fact that I'm almost always in a constant state of putting things not only where they belong but exactly how they belong.  I refuse to call this OCD, and wonder if other people with ... let's say.... persnickety mannerisms stare blankly at being a bit demanding about house order a diagnosis. I don't count things or think something bad will happen, other than being annoyed until  fix it.  Does that still count?  Damn.


Marley has a head tilt on her that is spot on.  It's the dog version of a question mark.  Everything she responds to with interest has that tilt that clearly means "?"  Am I hungry?  Tilt.  Did I miss you?  Tilt.  Did I eat the small dog today? Tilt... guess you better go check tee hee she struts.  So while I naturally play this up a little, as far as house sitting goes, she has been a gem right down to looking a bit offended when we showed her where outside to bathroom is.  "Like I was going to do that inside, what do you think I'm an animal or something, jeez."


Last weekend we went on a hike.  Here is the face of a true monster:

Scary huh?  And don't even say you can't see my girl if she closes her eyes or mouth.  Shame on you.

My photo looks like hell because we're supposed to look like hell.  Forthose who smoke and squander regular exercise hiking is hell and becomes more irrational with every huff and puff up the mountain.  By the time everyone is back to the car and no longer winded, "Wasn't that fun?" chirps I, to the disbelief of Mr. Morgan who doesn't see the ray of sunshine who is his wife.  He only sees the broad who did nothing but bitch and moan about death being better for the last two hours.


Cheers.


-DM