Saturday was our crazy day; it started off as every Saturday morning does with puppy school for Daisy. This week we reviewed previously learned tricks (sit, lay down, watch me, stay) and learned how to walk loose leash without pulling (which she still doesn't get so we'll skip the advice and stick with our trusty Gentle Leader). We converted a pitbull-hater on our way out which was a big thing for me. We were leaving the store and this very loud, white-trashy lady walked in with her questionably-hygiened family (I know I'm awful, but they could've used a little help) and freaky little chihuahua-mutant-mut, and she sees Daisy and absolutely squeals with terror. Trembling, she asks me, "Oh My GOD, is that a pitbull? Why would you have it in PUBLIC?!" I want to strangle her for being so ridiculous and narrow-minded, but I calmly confirm that she is indeed a pitbull and assure her that my dog is of no threat to her. Keep in mind Daisy is not yet 5 months old; she's still very puppy-ish in appearance, demeanor, and mannerisms, aka a big, clumsy, adorable dork. The lady is shaking, and seems unconvinced that my dog is harmless. I explain to her, quickly and in short easy words, my viewpoint on the breed and how pitbulls are really wonderful dogs, but tend to be the most common victims in bad raising. I explain that she is just a baby and the sweetest one ever at that, and promise her that my dog will not hurt her. She glances at her oily scruffy husband out of nervousness, and hesitantly asks me if it is okay if she pets her. Daisy, at this point, is exhausted from training and politely sits in front of her and bows her head, wagging her tail a little bit. The lady bends over and pets her, and Daisy reaches up and gives the smelly lady a kiss. She started for a moment and then, realizing she was being kissed and not bitten, starts laughing excitedly and stupidly as if she'd conquered a dragon. She petted Daisy a little longer and then stood up and proclaimed, "I'm so terrified of pitbulls, but she is just the sweetest thing!" I nodded in my polite-but-I-told-you-so way, and she thanked me for helping her overcome her fear of pitbulls. Despite her craziness, I am happy to help show anyone who is scared of pits how amazing they can be. This was the emotional highpoint of my day.
We didn't take Daisy to the park because it had rained the day before and because we had to meet Bear's grandma (Red) for lunch in Petaluma. So we drove home and dropped Daisy off and headed to Petaluma for some good ol' IHOP (YUCK!). I've never been a big find of IHOP but wherever Red wants to go is where we go and that's just fine. We got to watch a police ordeal involving some crazy lady and her possibly-abused child (who she fairly violently dragged to the bathroom, kicking and screaming like he was going to butcher, which prompted the manager to call the police just in case [as he already had a black eye... you just never know]). Everything seemed to turn out fine. I had these awful "garden crepes" that were positively drenched with an awful hollandaise; totally couldn't eat it and the leftovers (that I will never eat) are still in my fridge. Olive gave Bear his birthday present, (finally!) a check for $1000 toward the new computer. This was the last financial piece (and obviously the largest) in our new computer puzzle, so after lunch we went to the bank, took care of all the money, and sped home. After about an hour of tweaking it to bang-for-our-buck perfection, we placed the order for our brand new Dell XPS 630 Ultimate edition, with all kinds of awesome crap in it. As Bear says, it's about 1 step down from the top of the line and it's going to be AWESOME! We also, after much debate about how broke it was going to make us, succumbed to our frivolous desires and ordered a new 22'' Samsung monitor off of Newegg because our current monitor will not properly support the video cards in the new system. So about $2650 later, we will now have an awesome and perfect computer and I don't wanna hear anymore complaining out of my husband (okay... and out of me, too) about lack of a decent computer ever again. Ta-done.
We also had a party to go to at 6:00 on Saturday night, up at Bear's boss's house at the top of Los Alamos Rd. (which is basically like the highest point in Santa Rosa, you don't get a better view or a more gorgeous house). Bear's boss (Rob) has been lobster diving a few days prior and wanted to have a big party to aid in the consumption. We were more than willing to oblige. Photos of this amazing feast, and the views from the house, will be posted as soon as I get the new computer (and hence have one that will work with my camera).
Sunday was by far more relaxed, all we did was fret over what we spent on the computer and then took Daisy to the Rincon Valley dog park. She had a blast and had really needed it. There were a couple of awesome dogs there. My first favorite was a baby English Bulldog named Seymour; he was one of the cutest goddamn dogs I have ever seen and was a week younger than Daisy. The dog that took the cake though, was an older black French Bulldog named Potato. What a poor, hilariously sad little chunker he was. Being a Frenchie, he of course had terrible breathing and sinus problems; if you're a dog person you know this plagues all the short-snout breeds like bulldogs and pugs. But poor Potato, he was just hyperventilating to the extreme and the owner said it was totally normal for him. As she put it, "as long as his tongue doesn't turn blue, he's fine. And even then, he just passes out and needs a minute to re-coop, then wakes up and is fine!" I was aghast at this. All the other doggies were running around him and he would just spin in circles, watching them and gasping. It was like watching a severely asthmatic child; "Mommy I want to play with the other kids but *GAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSPPPPPP* I can't breathe!" It was hilarious and so sad at the same time and I can't figure out how to feel about it. It seems cruel to continue to breed these breeds this way when they have so many problems; I don't imagine it's a very pleasant way to live your life. And Potato was this way after 3 major surgeries, apparently he used to be worse. We stayed until sunset and until Daisy was completely tuckered out, then made our way home and sadly accepted that the weekend was already over. No fun.
Btw, quote for the weekend:
"Your demonic child is about 35 thousand times more likely to bite you than my pitbull." -me, uttered sarcastically during the drive home from the lobster party, discussing the stupid bitch who insisted that my dog is a crazed, violent maniac and that there's nothing I can do to stop it (based on "prominent dog psychology" reports she has read). All the while, her 5 year old is screaming incessantly, spinning and running and yelling at people, demanding --no, violently insisting on-- everyone's full attention, completely out of control, and a little spoiled brat just like her mother. And the lady completely ignored all of it, just continuing on with her profound speech on how my dog will kill my children someday... it's inevitable, you know.
Anyhoo, I/we may have some awesome possibilities coming up, but as I've already posted about a novel in length, I think I'm gonna cut off here and hit the hay. Positive news next time!