Or, How These Damn Dogs Run Our Lives.
I miss writing about the dogs. So here's a little snippet for you. Last night, Will and I decided to go to a movie. We left the house at about 5:40p to catch the 6:05p showing of Benjamin Button at Baltimore's Harbour East Landmark Theatre. Before leaving, we go through our ten step Stymie That Weimie™ process for keeping Oslo and Mies out of stuff. This is a more involved process since we're in a bigger place now. It involves closing numerous doors and locking various others, hiding stuff, emptying pockets, etc. But I digress....
We get to the theatre in plenty of time for Will to drop me off and then find a place to park. I go into the theatre, getting in line to buy the tickets. Bored, I reach into my pocket to get my iPhone, thinking I'd check my email, Twitter, or update my Facebook status or something to pass time. But lo and behold, it's not there. It's not in any of my pockets. I realize that I left it at home, charging on my nightstand. No big deal you think, right? WRONG. Mies has a track record of eating my cell phones. He's eaten two of them when I accidentally left them at home in his presence. I start freaking out. Those other phones were not iPhones. They were not my friends. I did not feel warm and fuzzy whenever I touched them. I did not name them. Not to mention the fact that we were a little more flush when he ate the previous two phones; I just went out and bought another cheap replacement. Not an option anymore, thankyouverymuch Steve Jobs.
I stand there for a moment, thinking how there's NO WAY I'm going to be able to sit through a three-hour movie wondering whether or not Mies killed the iPhone. So, I get out of line and go outside to look for Will, having nightmarish flashes of my beautiful phone, with its shiny screen and its happy, exuberant icons, being CRUNCHED, PIERCED, GRINDED, and BRUTALLY ASSAULTED by my consumer-electronic-devouring hound. I'm pacing back and forth in front of the theatre, cussing under my breath, wondering why the hell it's taking Will so long to park the car, knowing that with each passing moment, the risk of Mies eating my iPhone increases dramatically. Those peanut butter kongs only keep them busy for so long and through experience, I have learned that any damage Mies does when we're gone happens within the first half hour of our absence.
Anyway, I finally spot Will about a block away, walking up to the theatre. I run up to him, excitedly gasping, "We have to go home. NOW! I left my phone on the nightstand and Mies may have already eaten it! LET'S GO!" And with that, I dashed down the street with Will trailing in an eye-rolling state of exasperated resignation (who can blame him?). I'm sure he thought this sort of domestic melodrama would be a thing of the past now that Seth and Michaela are on their own. WRONG AGAIN.
We speed up 83 North, past the Domino's sugar sign, rushing back to Bolton Hill. Will drops me off again and I run into the house, yelling Mies's name as I burst through the door, hoping if he were in the initial should-I-eat-Mommy's-very-expensive-electronic-device-or-not phase that my screaming would scare him the crap out of it. And what do I find? Two dogs in peaceful repose, much like what you see in this photo. My iPhone where I'd left it. Intact. Unmarred. Sans nary a scratch or blemish. Maybe there is a god after all....
