The English Patient (4745-4760)

Tabby left for Chicago this morning and entrusted me to take care of her dog Chicken, a Chihuahua. That name is  annoying because I have chickens so when I tell people about the dog it turns into a Whose on first? sketch.

It was just a little chaotic when Tabby dropped the dogs off.

It was just a little chaotic when Tabby dropped the dogs off.

Anyone: “Who’s the little guy?”

Me: “Chicken.”

Anyone: “Actually he’s a dog.”

Me: “No shit Sherlock. His name is Chicken.”

Anyone: “Why would anyone name a dog Chicken?”

Me: “Maybe Dog was already taken.”

Anyone: “That’s weird.”

Me: “What can I say, the British are an inscrutable people.”

Anyone: “Don’t you have chickens?”

Me: “Yes.”

Anyone: “Are any named Dog? What about Cat? Or Squirrel?”


Since he is recovering from a rattlesnake bite to the face and because Tabby is a Brit, I’m going to call him The English Patient, AKA TEP. I’ve heard a few other good names floated, like Domer, Doggycephalpsaurus and Chris Isaak.

A Pachycephalosaurus, dinosaur and direct relative of

Aside from having a hugely swollen forehead, he seems to be doing okay.

The boys have been charged with watching him and Pugsly, AKA The Dictator or DICK because that’s what he is.

The dogs provide ample distraction for the kids who are at that point in the summer when they are sick of each other and bicker all the fucking time. The English Patient and DICK, despite living together, are snarling at each other because since they are on new turf and they are engaged in a battle for supremacy.

The only solution is to divide and conquer. Scrotus sits with DICK on one end of the couch and Testiclese has The English Patient on the other side. That whole, “Mom! My brother is hogging-the-blanket-touching-me-breathing!” thing is finally solved.

I told Testiclese that walking would kill the dog.

I told Testiclese that walking would kill the dog.

Tabby left me with several cans of cat food because the The English Patient is milking his injury for all it’s worth off his feed and needs to be spoon fed. Tsk. He ate dinner just fine tonight. Those cheddar brats go right down, especially when being fed by hand on the couch.

I’m going to ruin that dog.

The dogs have become accustomed to sleeping under the covers.

The dogs have become accustomed to sleeping under the covers.

Yup, time to cut the crap.


Some crap from the shed next to the garage.


Slap bracelets that I got from the dollar store because I thought they would make nifty goody bags for birthday presents. The problem is 1) I don’t believe in goody bags, or at least I don’t believe that I need to give presents to every kid that comes to my house for a party. Frankly, I think it is a shitty new tradition. Guess what kiddo? It’s not your goddamned birthday! When it is your birthday, then you will get the presents. Are you disappointed? Suck it. DOES ANYONE WANT THESE? DONATE.


A too small travel cup and plastic containers some plants came in. DONATE and RECYCLE.


Contact paper ruined by being left outside for five years. TRASH.


Jesus, whatever! TRASH.


I’m over Star Wars. Fortunately, so are my kids. DONATE.

12 thoughts on “The English Patient (4745-4760)

  1. Viv, it is all too humorous, but at the same time kind of…what might one say, pathetic? Like, THESE are the animals that run our lives? That dog, now, the one with the dead-on camera stare. So that’s Tabby’s dog(s)? You think she’s going to be reading these blog comments whilst she’s on vacation? Or can we speak freely? Well shoot, a WAY cute picture of M. anyway. Yes, holding that dog…he’s sort of a scary dog, you know? in the way clowns are scary. And speaking of scary, o boy the Pachycephalosaurus! Yes you can almost see a nascent chicken in there, embryonic almost. Kind of like something out of the movie Alien. And where was I going with this, what was my point? Can’t remember now that I had one…

    • Tabby is reading this but I warned her that I would be complaining incessantly about her dogs on my blog. She’s ready. It’s kind of like a nanny-cam with commentary.

    • No I insist, in fact I beg of you, speak freely because being on holiday and staying with family-in-law if way to much time and way too much of a fraustrated and restrained tounge. To lash out on some cretin who wants to judge me by a humorous blog that somebody else wrote about my dogs would utterly make my day.;)

  2. You will think I’m crazy. But that’s ok. Your crap is my treasure…if you want to rehome those slap bracelets, I know a 4-year-old who would LOVE them. 😉

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