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Mummy’s Boy

24 Oct

Every evening, the routine is typical. We come home, we eat dinner and the Roo, official pet number one, looking in from the external wet kitchen, barks to get attention. This can be quite annoying and especially so when the day at the office was a brain-sapping one.

Rooney is not allowed in the house because his drool is just to gross for us to deal with when it drips onto the marble floor. But we play with him in the garden. Occasionally, curiosity gets the better of him and he would saunter into the house to wander into the dining room, dry kitchen and the courtyard just to appease his wonder of the house. Most times, he pretends not to see us, thinking if he does not see us, we will not see him and he won’t be caught!

There was one evening M2 brought him back to the external wet kitchen after playing in the garden and he went back grudgingly. Feeling unsatisfied, he came back out to the garden again and made a ruckus insisting it has to be Mummy—me—to lead him back and that M2 bringing him back doesn’t count.

M1 shot him a disgusted look and muttered “Hrmph. What a brat! Being Mummy’s boy.”

Come to think of it, if hubby attempts, he wouldn’t even budge, what more the girls. So indeed, he’s being Mummy’s boy, a bratty one though.

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I’m not looking at you so you can’t see me!

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Loving the Wrong Pet

3 Oct

Remember Pancake? I wrote about it on 16th June and how it became a pet (of M2).

The hubby recently told me he switched Pancake’s place at the front of the house with Waffle. Waffle is also another conifer tree but no one’s pet in particular.

Unbeknownst to M2 of the switch, she has been petting and giving love to the wrong (pet) tree until he told her…

It’s okay I guess, Waffle needs some love too.

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Can you tell who’s who flanking the entrance?

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It Has to Be All Orange

19 Sep

The weekend that passed was such a busy one that I felt guilty neglecting Rooney, official pet number one, also affectionately called ‘Roo’. So much so, when I went to the mall with M2 (M1 had friends over to work on a school project), we decided to buy him a toy and some snacks. M2 called it cereal, not snacks, for it had oats and a whole bunch of supposedly healthy stuff for the skin.

As for the toy, it was with much debate whether to get him another orange colored one or not, for he fancies this color. Or we theorized he fancies this color. After much discussion, we opted for a sheep with beige limbs and face, and some orange color here and there, with the ratio of the orange lesser. We thought we’d challenge the theory that perhaps it does not have to be an all orange toy to perk his playful mood.

That night, the sheep was thrown into the lion’s lair and soon, plenty of shuffling, grunting and action sound. In less than 15 minutes, the poor sheep was gutted! All the stuffing came out and it laid lifeless on the floor.

The poor sheep

The poor sheep

And the Roo? He laid there too, lifeless and sad, staring at his torn new toy. He looked like he was either worn out from the sudden exciting playtime or he was feeling guilty he mutilated the poor sheep so quickly that he cannot play with it anymore. We suspect it was the latter emotion running through him. That night he went to sleep very quickly!

But if I were to give the sheep another lease on life to extend its usefulness, as in putting the guts back and sewing it up, the appeal may be different. Like the cat toy I got him a while back, it was gutted too (like the sheep) and was sewn up to extend its life but totally neglected right after the operation. So hopefully leaving the sheep as it is for now with three hanging limbs (one limb got ripped out), it may still have its appeal.

The appeal was there alright but ultimately it cost the death of the already half dead sheep. In less than 48 hours since the first contact, the poor sheep was decapitated last night! Oh boy.

What's left of the sheep, now looking foreign, like a new toy!

What’s left of the sheep, now looking foreign, like a new toy!

Does this mean he loved the sheep so much or that he couldn’t stand the color combination ratio that only death will do it justice? I can’t imagine the outcome if the color ratio had more orange. The life was sucked right out of Roo too after the violent act; he sat lifeless and looking forlorn again. I had to coax him with several snacks to lift his spirits up.

Looks like we have to get him another toy soon. And it has to be orange, all over. Anything less than half in the color ratio will just result in the death of it in no time at all.

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poop! Poop! POOP!

23 Aug

Official pet number one, Rooney, is one quirky bulldog. Must be the English in him or being with us, the Asian in him.

Whenever he comes out to the garden to play and suddenly does his thing, he would bark like crazy as if telling us, “Poop! Poop! I pooped!!!” and would run scared shit (pun intended) maniacally.

If we choose to ignore him even for a little while, taking our time to get the paper and scooper to clean up after him, he would not have it any other way but to hurry us, “Poop! Poop! Go scoop!” He would go on barking relentlessly and sometimes the bark pitch turns into a scream. “Poop! Poop! I pooped!!!” “I pooped! Pooped! POOPED!!!”

It seems like he likes his mess to be cleaned up immediately, not afterwards in 5 minutes, 2 minutes or even a minute but IMMEDIATELY. Geez, it’s only poop and not like an air-borne toxic pile of radioactive compose or something…

Are all dogs or just bulldogs like this in nature? Or is it just him? I wonder…

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What Time Are You Coming Home?

22 Aug

Last week, it was not a typical Friday. We were so busy going in and out of the office, running errands and all. I hardly had time for my Candy Crush, let alone my Zookeeper Battle. Thank goodness work in the office was manageable. M1 had a birthday party so she was out with her friends the whole day. M2 was left home alone to do more revision on this last day of the holiday before the weekend kicked in and then back to school.

I called home several times to check on her progress and both times, she told me she was resting as her tummy did not feel well. Hmm. Excuses?

It was 8.30pm when we were on our way to fetch M1 from her friend’s place when I spoke to M2 again. “What time are you coming home?” she lamented.

“Soon. We’re on our way to fetch M1 and should be back by nine. Are you ok?” I pitied her loneliness.

“No. Mosquitoes are attacking me!” M2 complained.

“Why don’t you go upstairs to your room then?” I suggested.

“Nah. I’ll wait for you downstairs but hurry home please! I need people here so that the mosquitoes has somebody else to attack!”

Pppfffftttt…. So much for loneliness and missing us!

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Chat

Too Much, Too Little

21 Aug

It was a clear case of too much, too little of everything that had M3 zonked out by 10pm last night.

From her arrival to our country, to the school for activities, to our home and doing more stuff, there was hardly time to rest. Coupled with an unfortunate sleepless night, no thanks to our mosquitoes, M3 was so exhausted to the point of being nauseous.

Earlier yesterday I commented to hubby on how I wish I had her energy when I travel. “We were only young once,” sighed hubby dearest. Indeed. But even then with M3’s youthfulness and exuberance, exhaustion got the better of her.

This morning, after the triple assault on the army of mosquitoes, I am glad to say she was well rested and back to her bubbly self and ready for another adventurous day ahead!

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Chat

New Blood

20 Aug

Our house guest’s name also starts with an ‘M’, so I shall call her M3. M3 comes from Fukuoka and shared with us, last night, an interesting video about the prefecture besides showering the family with gifts. Very thoughtful and polite. Both M1 and M2 were pleasantly surprised and delighted with their unexpected presents.

M3 was to sleep in the guest room and although the room was prepared for her, the mosquitoes had other plans! The new blood was a feast for the darn mozzies! A new flavor, a young delicacy unlike grandma (who uses the room whenever she sleeps over) and her old blood, poor M3 had another taste of our country. But I must say this is not the usual environment.

Tonight we shall make further reinforcements to prevent another uncomfortable experience for her.

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Can Dogs See Color?

18 Jul

This is about official pet number one, Rooney. We think he likes the color orange or rather, he only sees the color orange.

Why I say this because the toys that we get him can range from many colors but the orange colored ones last the longest playtime. A replacement frisbee for the orange one—in the same shape and size but in green—did not even warrant a day’s play. A blue & white bone hardly gnawed to the core while anything orange lasts so long!

When we discovered his preference for the color and not the object, both M1 and M2 would be mindful to select an orange colored toy for him whenever we visit the pet shop.

His recent orange & yellow chicken was chewed till the guts came out. Then the cat, which was a darker shade of orange, lasted less than the chicken. I surgically gave the cat another live but since then, with its orange shade turning brownish, the reincarnated cat has been neglected.

Currently, he’s just all over his basketball. At the right bright shade of orange, we all agreed that he only sees the color orange.

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Bury the Bee, Part 2

8 Jul

It is now evident that the colony of bees have been disturbed. More came our way last week after the first incident, invading the kitchen and the girls’ bedroom.

I had an SOS call from M2 reporting this and more. “Mummy! They are everywhere! Rooney’s in his cage and fine but… OMG! One’s on my bed, like a zombie, writhing away!”

“Zombie? Or more like zombie bee?” I couldn’t help myself.

“Zombie, zom-bee, zombie-nee, whatever! Hurry home please,” she urged in between muffled laughter.

So we came home from work to stories of the bees’ invasion and both having to shower in my bathroom instead. We were to have a mass burial last Wednesday night, for the scattered little bodies here and there (in their attempt to fly out to freedom) but homework got in the way.

And for the past few nights, circumstances were not favorable, burial plans were dashed yet again. And last I checked, the maid just simply got rid of all of them. So the pet cemetery is left intact without a crowd arising from this latest little unfortunate aftermath.

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It’s Not Fair

7 Jul

When official pet number one, Rooney, was a puppy, both girls complained that he was getting more toys and things than them.

We were often queried, “How come he gets something every week?! Every week!!! What about us? We have needs too you know. It’s not fair.”

 Well, sometimes life can be unfair…

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