Gus Dust

It's Texas. It's summer. It's hot. But our grass looks good. In fact, our grass looks really good. It's very green. It looks healthy. It grows very fast. A little too fast. Cutting it once a week almost isn't enough.

After cutting the grass on the golf course (tearing up chunks in the "fairway" - which I rarely saw - is considered cutting the grass, right?), I mowed our lawn. Everything was going to plan. And then I saw it. But it was too late.

Poof. Gus dust.

Think fast: what do I do? But it's too late. It's in my face before I could say "Gus dust". I love mowing the lawn.

What am I referring to you ask? I'm refering to our dog that leaves piles of terds all over the back yard. Of course you try to clean them up, but there are some you just miss.

I missed one.

Like I said. It's Texas. And it's hot. Which means there are dried-out terds in the backyard. And when those dried-out terds meet the lawnmower blade, you get Gus dust.

I don't like Gus dust. I would go ahead and rock the duece in the backyard, let it sit for a couple days, and make Gus mow the lawn. I don't see that happening because I just don't think I could rock the duece outside.

How Much?

Ever heard the song "How Much Is That Doggie in the von Frinkenhagen's House?" Well, if you haven't, it goes something like this:

How much is that doggie in the von Frinkenhagen House?
The one that stinks like crap?

Yeah, that's our dog. And the answer is that he's free. Anyone want a dog?

Not only does he stink like a dog, but he stinks like my brother. Here I am, minding my own business, studying for my exam when I get hit with a SBD. Not only was it an SBD, but it was a lingering SBD. I turned the fan on high but all it seemed to do was whirl the stench around the office.

So I take the dog outside to take care of business. But what you don't know about our dog is that he's special. He can't do anything alone. That includes going to the bathroom. You have to be out there with him for him to go. And even then, when he's got the whole backyard to do his thing, he pees on the house. Or he takes a dump 5 feet away from you.

Only this time, he didn't take a dump. Why? Because it's raining. I had to chase him out in the yard only for him to stare at me like I was stupid. "What Brian? You want me to take a dump just because I have completely stunk up your office? But it's raining, Brian. I don't want to."

Well, I don't want to smell him. So he can fart away in his kennel until he decides it's time to rock the deuce.

Oh, and Grandma and Grandpa Moore - the kennel is still in your room. I made sure to shut the door and turn off the fan. That way, you'll have the pleasure of experiencing what I am experiencing. And yes, I do know that I'm the best son-in-law in the world.

The Joy of Animals

Tonight I asked Kaylynn if she could say "Gus." Her response was, "sssss." She's getting sounds - so smart! I haven't heard her make the "g" sound yet, so that's still coming. Actually, a fellow teacher told me there was a book or something that had all the research about language and sound acquisition in babies/children. I'd be interested to see what the order of sounds is. That's off topic.
My point in telling you how Kaylynn says Gus, is that she LOVES him! Zoe too, but that's really hard to say. If he noses her or sits close enough where she can grab his tail, she starts laughing and squealing! We're going to have to work on being nice and gentle, because she will grab his eye. She had a hold of his mouth, you know that floppy part, his lips maybe? Very funny. And then she had a bath, because, well, that's gross. Here are 3 badly taken photos of her playing with Sweet Boy tonight (if we ever have a son, I'm going to have to come up with something else for Gus...)

Ah, Zoe. Sweet kitty, Zoe. How she wanted to get that lizard...chameleon, whatev.

Sweet Boy

It's tough being Gustopher. I mean, really. Basking in the sunlight, inside an air-conditioned house, chewing on your favorite blue heart. Rough life. Really.