My Crazy Life, continued...

The other day, when I called the adoption agency animal clinic to complain about Linus' flea problem, I was instructed to return the merchandise.  I suggested that I treat him here at The Good House, to make it easier on him.  Nurse Ratched was on vacation so the receptionist cum dog whisperer (named Tiffany or Brittney or something equally silly) denied my request to speak to a real vet, and refused to back down.  I didn't feel like sparring with the poor (no doubt sensitive) child, so I acquiesced.  I asked her to advise me about which products would kill the fleas, who were most assuredly infesting every fiber of my home as we spoke, without killing those of us with endoskeletons.  She put me on hold.

When she came back on the line, we had a complicated debate about the efficacy of Frontline Plus v. Advantage II (my online research was meaningless since Tiff was the Oracle of Ortho - The One True Cure); the need for bathing a canine-flea-host (she said I shouldn't because it could splash up and wash off the Advantage II, no matter how careful I was); and other practical matters involving carpet, upholstery, and innocent mammalian bystanders.  Said debate was quite complicated. For me, at least.  Tiff (Britt?) had a nice little script and she delivered it with confidence.  I exercised considerable restraint by not telling her to audition for community theatre, because she had a knack for method acting.

Oh, my.

Long story short:  I think I want Linus, but it is much easier with just one dog.  And The D says he doesn't miss Bubba, but I have a feeling he enjoyed the challenge.  Furthermore, Lucy seems lonely.  Kinda like a younger sister whose big brother is away at summer camp.  Even though she loves the undivided attention from her parents, she's at loose ends without the challenge of competing for their affections.

That reminds me of long, unstructured summers spent fighting with my brother, David.  Every day, we wound up in some sort of ruthless competition.  Including Battleship, croquet, HORSE, Monopoly, full contact (tackle) football, Mastermind (the best ever game of logic - not counting chess, of course), our version of UFC (we never drew blood or broke bones, but it was pretty brutal), perfecting our cussing skills, climbing trees and fences, etc.  Now that I think about it, there was plenty of bloodshed and a few stitches.  David had a broken tooth and a forearm fracture, and I got my toe caught in the bicycle spokes and sliced my hand open on the cracked glass on a storm door.  I won't even get started on the time my little sister hit me over the head with a croquet mallet.

Well, I think I'll get busy and do something productive.  I'm just getting home from spending all morning with my latest, nonsensical, misadventure.  But that's another post.

Over and out...