Definition of Laughter

make the spontaneous sounds and movements of the face and body that are the instinctive expressions of lively amusement and sometimes also of contempt or derision."she couldn't help laughing at his jokes" · [more]synonyms:chuckle · chortle · guffaw · giggle · titter · snigger · snicker · cackle · howl · [more]NOUNan act of laughing."she gave a loud, silly laugh"synonyms:chuckle · chortle · guffaw · giggle · titter · ha-ha · tee-hee · snigger · roar of laughter · hoot of laughter · shriek of laughter · peal of laughter · belly laughinformal(a laugh)something that causes laughter; a source of fun, amusement, or derision."she decided to play along with him for a laugh" · [more]synonyms:joke · prank · piece of fun · jest · escapade · adventure · caper · romp · practical joke · trick · bit of mischief · shenanigans · horseplay · lark · giggle · hoot

They say the average person laughs 17 times a day. Sometimes that seems like a lot. Other times very few. So I got to counting. I was in single digits. Charley has made my laughter back up to double digits. Even more. I am so grateful for her.

So !?!@&&!! Annoyed

Annoyed is actually the kindest word I can apply to how I feel. Actually , thinking about it, I’m going to change annoyed to disgusted.

My friend Mike, who was with me when I got Charley, so he’s like her “pack dad”, and I were in the parking lot by my place so she could showcase her new dog flying disc moves, and while there, my backpack, her leash AND harness got stolen. HER LEASH. Seriously. I get the backpack and the brand new bright pink harness lying there, but her ratty ass used-to-be red leash???

Mike had just arrived from driving from Pennsylvania to Washington on his way to be with his mom and sisters while they are waiting for his stepdad to pass from an aggressive cancer that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He was driving by my area so we met at the Polyclinic parking lot so Charley could see him.

We always go to the back lot because it’s semi enclosed, and hidden from foot and vehicle traffic. Less temptation for her and some privacy as well. He pulled into the lot, which is sectioned off by a waist high retaining wall in the shape of an L, and parked his Dodge Ram truck.

After Charley got over falling over herself when she saw him, we started talking and tossing the disc around. It was about 6:30 p.m. and people were still leaving for the day. The lot was empty besides us and one parked car.

Going to leave, I went to go grab her leash, went around the truck, and my heart skipped. “Where did her leash go?” Then, “Where is my backpack?”

That feeling that happens when you know something should be there, but it’s gone, and deep down I knew it was stolen but takes a few beats to sink in is one I can never explain. Pure violation, almost an assault towards my personal self. Disbelief turns to panic turns to anger then to horror to helplessness. I really panicked because I thought my phone was in there, but ever since I lost it 3 times in 2 months I have it tethered to me. Tethered to me because I learned that the hard way.

Then, I was thinking, wtf? Usually when it’s just us two I put my stuff in the middle so I can see anybody come up on us the total 360. But, there was a large truck, the only truck in the lot, and me, and a 6 foot man, and an unleashed, un-harnessed dog. Forget it’s Charley Waffle, she is still a dog. Plus, she has been getting protective the more mature she gets, which is what her breed can easily become, so I was absolutely astounded. Disbelief.

Mike was pissed, yet he didn’t show it, never does, (he leaves that to me to act on) and told me to wait there while he went looking for the only guy that had been walking by who’d been banging a stick against the wall, acting a bit crazy.

The sucky thing is I use my backpack everyday. I don’t have a car, I use it to carry almost everything in it when I’m out and about. It’s my diaper bag for Charley. I never know if I’ll stop by a store, or have toys in it, or whatever. Plus, I’d gotten an almost brand new Swiss backpack that has a separate section for papers and a laptop, a different one for bulkier things, and, well, it was the backpack of backpacks, all for $12 at Goodwill. I figured they didn’t know what they had when they priced it. It was well a $200 bag.

I know that I shouldn’t have left it where I did, because of things like this, but with Mike there, and the retaining wall, and the only ones in the lot I didn’t think I had to have my guard fully up. Who is brazen enough to do that? Seriously!?!?

Neither did Mike. He said he thought twice when i put it there, but thought it would be ok.

I did too. I had thought twice when I put it down.

How many times has that second beat of questioning happen and I’ve ignored it, only to realize I shouldn’t have?

I guess this is one of those things I’ve got to put under “Learning the Hard Way.”

Still, Who does that?

Continue reading So !?!@&&!! Annoyed

Green eyed Monster

Charley is a little green eyed monster. She’s jealous when I am talking to people. She’s jealous when I pet another animal. She’s jealous when I’m on the phone. She’s jealous that she can’t eat avocados or chocolate. She’s jealous I can sit on a toilet and she thinks I’m hiding something from her, so she drops a ball in it. She’s jealous when I try to read a book. She’s jealous when I try to draw or write or bead. She’s jealous of the phone. She’s jealous of the remote control. She’s jealous of the fish in the fish tank. CHARLEY IS A JEALOUS BEAST.

But, you know, I am not one to judge. She’s spunky and she shows it with pride. I’m jealous she’s got endless amount of energy. I’m jealous she can pull the “who ME??” Or the “I’m a dog and can’t understand you.” I’m jealous of her beautiful, thick coat that yields endless compliments. I’m jealous she has no society police. I’m jealous her only worries is where is that frisbee?

I guess the grass is always greener.

I’m just kidding.

I was going to sound off when I first started writing, but 6 hours have passed and I’m not as annoyed. I happened to wake up in the middle of the night and realized I had to charge my phone and put away my groceries.

She’s rolling around trying to get me to look cute.

Little Green Eyed Monster. She’s so funny.

Charley’s backpack

I had done a little bit of research on what can a dog use to carry some hiking tools or balls or water, anything to lighten the load on me, and to give her some sort of purpose, being a total typical working dog. I’d read up on a few of these dog “backpacks”, but what was funny is I got a lot of this at first;

On my
Dang! Kinda looks like her!
She’d probably love that.

Finally I started gaining some headway and started looking at ones like this;

I ended up getting the one in the lower right hand corner, the ONETIGRIS, for $35. I got it in black, but now that I think about it, I buy myself everything black, just because anything else gets stained. I’m hard on my clothes. Always have been. But, I’m thinking black may not be good for her, because she’s got the black coat, and it’s pretty thick, so I think it would take in too much Sun. I’m going to have to think more.

I just got really excited when a few of the reviews were talking how it have their dogs something to do, plus worked them out in half the time. BONUS!!!

I am once again at a stall state in trying to make sure she gets enough exercise, but I’m not trying to kill myself in the process. Just yesterday we were trying to do this flip trick where she vaults off of me and does this twist flip in the air. She got overexcited and came running at me, jumped full force and knocked me clear around and I fell smack on my knees. Ouch.

I’m probably going to have to wait to try this new pack on her. She’s probably traumatized about her harness and how it rubbed her raw in the armpit. Either she’s Traumatized or I’m just feeling really bad and I’m traumatized by feeling so bad, so I’m probably gonna hold off trying her on that pack. It sure is nice looking though.

Last time I tried to give her a job I clipped a set of my keys on her leash. They were gone after diving into the treestrees waking the bunnies in the morning.

We’ll see how it goes. This is it;

Charley’s new pack

When a dog licks

Might be in pain

I feel absolutely awful. I couldn’t understand why lately Charley kept backing away from me when I kept trying to put on her harness. I thought it was one of the stubborn games she plays. The other day I told her if she backed up from me she wasn’t going to be able to go. She stood in the foyer just looking at me. I was perplexed, because she usually gets the jest of what I’m saying. So that day I left without her after giving her a few tries. She yelped and cried as I walked away and she could hear the elevator ding. I remained perplexed about it the whole time I was out.

Later on I noticed she was gently licking her paw, and then tried to lick further up by her armpit. That is when I saw a long, friction cut where the hair has been rubbed off. I was horrified, for at first it liked like a gash and my thoughts are still in shock about the last two surgeries I had to have done for her.

She would not let me see it, she even got a bit snippy with me. That’s when I looked up excessive licking in dogs.

If licking the owner, which she was doing as well, could be a sign of showing affection to the Alpha, which I don’t think that was it, or signaling they were in pain. She wouldn’t let me look still.

I told her we were going to go outside and just walk around, no playing because I still wasn’t quite sure what her injury was, and told her I had to look at her paws before we play. I went to put on her harness and she backed away slightly, but looked up at me sad and reluctant, but stayed in one spot. It wasn’t until I went to put on her harness that I realized it lined right up to her wound. I was,” Is that’s why you kept backing away? Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry Charley!”

I absolutely felt and still feel awful. How many times did I put that thing on her when it was giving her pain but she did it anyway? I will never put that harness on her again.

Lesson learned. My Charley is not always a brat. Most of the time it has to do with error on my part.

It’s not the dog’s fault, it’s the owner. Ugh.

DOG GONE

That is what Charley is going to be. A Dog Gone. What a friggen butt. Seriously. I could not believe it. It took me a couple minutes to digest what I had just witnessed. On our way home, with a couple bags of groceries in my hand, I stopped briefly to get balance, and had to drop her leash, she quickly jumped at the occasion to deliberately jump over the neighborhood’s church’s retaining wall onto their beautiful, lush and green manicured lawn and proceeded to do her duty right smack in the middle of the lawn, knowing full well that is a no-no. The fact I know she did this ON PURPOSE is when she was done she did a massive cover up of her poop, with grass and dirt flying in every direction, defiantly staring at me the whole time.

I wanted to strangle her.

Toilet Bone, or Toilet Ball?

My toilet has been plugged up for a few days. There is no maintenance department or maintenance person in my apartment building. It’s not totally plugged -plugged, just has a hard time when flushed and usually results in a good plunge every day and a half. Kinda gross, really. I can’t stand anything having to do with clogged-up toilets.

My concern is I fear Charley has dropped either a bone or a ball in the toilet bowl. What led me to believe this is when my friend, Mike, was here over Christmas, he had gone to use the bathroom. What I heard next puzzled me. I was hearing a dog lapping in the toilet. My dog. Charley. It makes a distinct sound, almost onomatopoeia-like. Lap, lap. I said loudly to Mike, “Is that Charley?” I was a bit confused, for I’ve never known her to drink out of the toilet. He answered with a “Oh yeah, she just followed me in here and I’m letting her finish up.” What??? Then, I asked, “You think I let her drink out of the toilet?”

“Well, yeah, I don’t know, I have friends who let their dog drink out of the toilet. We used to when I was a kid.”

“Don’t let her do that! Get her out of there!” As a matter of fact, I’ve put a stop to her walking into the bathroom while I am using it. There are a couple reasons for that. One, she will walk in, wagging her tail, and want me to pet her, then sit there and stare up at me, trying to put her head on my leg. Then she’ll act like she wants to play when I shoo her away. Second, sometimes that is the only tiny break I get from her steady gaze always staring and watching every move that I make in our small apartment. No joke. But, third, I have realized with her, is she has this weird competitive streak in her. She doesn’t like me doing something she can’t do, just as she starts pitching little tantrums when I’m eating, or when I have a soccer ball she can’t put in her mouth, or when I’m playing a video game or typing. Anything. She will try to sabotage in any way a canine can. Bark at the door. Bark out the window. Her big one the other day was getting my almost empty soda plastic bottle and crunch, crunch it in her mouth. Find something she knows she’s not to have and start playing with it. And she’ll do it in a loud, obnoxious way where it is hard not to laugh, yet hard not to want to throw her out the window.

Now, this is where I’m starting to think it may very well be a ball or a bone in my toilet. Mike, after a bit of discussion about dogs and toilet water, said to me, “Well, I think she was just trying to get a bone she hid.” UH? “I saw her with one in her mouth in the bathroom the other day. She’s always hiding them. I figured that’s what she did.”

I sat there. Maybe she did. She does hide all of her balls from me. There have been many times I’ve had around 5 balls for her, and they’ll disappear, whether outside or around the house, only to have them actually multiply the next day. We’ll be doing our normal walk, and she’ll dart into a bush, come out with her tail wagging, and in her mouth will be a ball I thought was gone a month ago. She does that all the time. It’s gotten to where I will only bring one or two balls when we go out, and if she loses them, (hides) that’s it for balls for a month. She’ll have to find the ones she’s hidden, or find new ones along the way.

I can totally see her doing something like that. Dropping a ball in the toilet, or a bone, watching it go to the bottom and disappearing, for I’m pretty sure I’d notice if one of those things were in my toilet. I can even picture her face. Her fluffy puppy innocent “me?” face as she tries to figure how and what happened to it.

I even bought a 3′ toilet snake, something I’ve never bought or done before. I don’t even know what one looked like. But, it worked. I bought it off Amazon. https://a.co/d/j97FPKL A 3′ Cobra. I did a review on Amazon about it because I was excited I was able to do this all by myself.

I am waiting now for them to come and do serious work on my toilet.

Just a few questions..

Do people let their dog drink out of their toilet? Eeww…maybe last resort, but isn’t there a kitchen faucet? And why was Mike so nonchalant about it? I dunno. Is it how he views me, or how he…..I don’t know…..it’s just another Charley Waffle day.

And she just got her 3 brand new JAWZ frisbees……

Luckily she can’t drop those in the toilet. Or should I say, luckily they can’t be flushed down the toilet…

All I WANTED WAS….

Charley’s Beta Tank

So I ended up getting Charley a Betta Fish for whatever reason. I really thought she would enjoy it, for I’ve seen her stare at the fish tanks in Doctor’s offices and from the “live” feed of ocean animals swimming around to piano lullaby’s on the t.v. at bedtime.

Nope. She wanted nothing to do with it. I don’t know if it was because she was annoyed I was spending time taking care of them or what, but she refused to even look at them.

I chose the Betta fish because it was a lot easier to carry home with me than a bloated plastic bag filled with fish and oxygen. I take the bus. The chances of fish making it from Petco in the University District to 2 buses later downtown were not too great compared to a Betta that had been living in a small custard size bowl with an oxygen hole. But, and I am not too proud about this, but I got home and it wasn’t until about 2 1/2 hours later that I remembered the Betta was in my purse. No joke. As soon as it struck my conscience I jumped up and frantically groped through my purse. I found the Betta in the Betta bowl but 1/2 of the water had spilled out through the oxygen hole. I did feel bad, but the Betta didn’t seem to mind too much, so I figured no harm.

I had done a bit of research as soon as I decided that I’d get a Betta. Actually, I think I got the Betta and then did research, which wasn’t too smart but I figured with the ease of ordering online nowadays it wouldn’t be too difficult to erect a tank with the Betta in a day or so. And, I didn’t think there was too much to have a Betta. My ex and I used to have one that we named Petey, after one of our homeless buddies from Colorado. That Betta lasted about 3 years.

Well, anyway, I found out Bettas are kind of delicate in a weird way. Not necessarily delicate, but they demand a lot of individual attention. First, a male Betta can not be put in a tank with another Betta. And, the fish that are allowed to cohabitate with the male Betta have to be very dull, not over flashy, and not predatory at all. I also realized that a curved tank is not the way to go, for the Betta sees its reflection and gets angry. So, that goes for those mirrors that are supposed to be for Bettas claiming it gives them exercise. No, it just adds to stress and aggression. Also, I’ve realized that plants are important for a Betta. Not necessarily live plants, but something for the Betta to hide behind. They are very expensive at Petco. $8.00 for just a small, grass-looking thing. I ended up buying most of the plants from Dollar Tree. Works just the same, and for the most part, there is more bang for your buck. I read that it was ok for satin plants to be in the tank, just as long as there are no sharp edges to tear up the fins of the Betta.

Also, a Betta likes a lot of room. I was thinking a 2-gallon tank, maybe a 5 gallon would suffice, but reading on about Bettas I found out they do better in a 10-gallon tank with a lot of room to flow. Now, I have to say I have had many a fish tank, for my ex-ex long time ago used to breed fish. Fish of a different kind. Cichlids, Angelfish, Brackish water, Gobi’s, etc, etc. We used to go fish auctions, which I’ve always found weird in an entertaining way. So I am no stranger when it comes to tanks.

But, man, I painstakingly researched different tanks and tried to figure out which one I would get the best price. If it was better to get a tank, then pay for the filter and heater, along with decorations. I finally decided on one from Petco that was 10 gallons, and it came in a kit. I don’t like to buy kits, because I find the heater is a stock heater, and the filter is pretty much midline quality. But, it was $49.00 with some of my PETCO rewards. I had to buy gravel and the plants, which I found both at the Dollar Tree.

I read that Tetris is a good tank mate for a Betta, as long as there are at least 6. That way it is like a school of fish, and they may not get as stressed out being around a big flowy Betta. I wanted to get the Betta some tank mates, so I bought 10 of the Tetris. While I was there, unfortunately, I happened to see my very favorite of all fish. The Clown Loach.

I asked the gal there how would a clown loach do in a tank with a Betta. I have had clown loaches. Actually, only 2, but I had them for about 4 years. I had them in their own tank with a really nice heater. They ended up growing very large, and if sold at a pet store they would have probably gone for 50 bucks each, at least. I ended up paying $11.00 for this 2 inch, maybe, singular loach and added it to the tank. She said it would work out fine, but the tank was probably getting a bit crowded. I thought so as well.

I forgot how addicting a fish tank can be. All of a sudden I wanted to have a different tank with different fish that liked each other, and another tank with just clown loaches, and another with this or that fish.

But I also forgot how finicky a clown loach can be. They do not have scales. They are highly susceptible to getting ich. And that is exactly what happened.

Everything seemed to be going quite well and smoothly with all the tank mates living together. It even seemed that I had a laid-back Betta, for I found him and the clown loach swimming around together. The little Tetris’ were busy staring at the two of them and seemed to be dealing fine with the situation. Then, I started noticing the clown loach was swimming up and down erratically. I thought it was weird, and maybe it was hungry. I fed a little bit more than usual that day but it didn’t even seem interested. It started harshly brushing up against the plants and doing this shimmy dance. It was then that I saw the white spots. Ich. I frigging totally forgot. Ick.

I ended up buying this ich treatment on Amazon, called Kordon’s Ich Attack. The loach died on the 10th day of owning him. Ich ended up taking the poor pretty Betta’s life a week after. It was a sad sight. It was sad for me.

So now all I have left are the 10, (I only count 6…) Tetris.

I don’t think Charley noticed at all the passing of those 2 wonderful fish. Oh well. Maybe if it had been a flying disc. Or a ball. Things would have been different.