1 dog, 2 dog, 3 dog, 4!

My house is overwhelmed with growls, yips, fur, and butt sniffing. Why, you ask? Because we are puppysitting for two friends of ours who are out of town. And by we, I mean me. Technically Garrett is helping too, but since he works full time and I'm still an unemployed bum, I'm doing most of the work.

Meet Orion:

He is a purebred Husky and a huge pain in my butt. He's an only child and refuses to listen to women. He was in for a huge surprise when he arrived at my house since we all know, I run this house. I'm practically hoarse from yelling so much.

It's not just him I'm yelling at. Betty and Roscoe have been getting into their share of trouble. My two dogs are absolutely in heaven having someone new to play with. The only problem is that they only know how to play two at a time, so someone always gets left out. And that someone is Betty.



Orion and Roscoe will play together for hours and hours and hours, knocking over candles, pictures, soda cans, and occasionally me. Especially when they're outside playing. But we can't go outside anymore because there is a snake in my yard and Garrett isn't home to kill it.

As frustrating as having three dogs terrorizing my house is, I love having him. And am very happy that we are only watching him for a week. This time. We have plans to watch him again for a week in June and then possibly again when our friend has surgery.

One thing that this has made screamingly apparent is I am so not ready to have kids running around my house. Which makes Garrett very very happy.

Why am I up at 3 in the morning?

I was asleep; dreaming sweet dreams filled with candy canes, flowers, and Shemar Moore. It was one of those dreams that you hope for every night before you fall asleep. I was blissfully unaware in dreamland. Until I heard something.

I knew instantly what it was and flew out of bed to find the source. Sure enough as I walk into the hall I stepped in it, slipped and fell in it.

As if that weren't bad enough, I still heard it. I got up, determined to find whoever did this and sure enough, as soon as I entered the study, I found it. Roscoe, my eight month Golden Retriever was peeing on my futon.

He didn't just pee on my futon. He peed in the hallway, in the living room, and on my couch. Where did he even keep that much pee? We were just out at midnight.

So why am I up at three in the morning? Because I have the lucky job of cleaning up all of that pee, all by myself. And then taking a shower.

I am officially a cat person.