My Dog Has an Iron Stomach...

Most pet owners could regale you with tales of what has passed down the gullet of their fine scaly, feathered or furry friends.  I own a Manchester Terrier, which looks almost identical to a Miniature Pinscher, which is what people always guess first when they meet her.

My little one is a trim, vigilant and very, very, nosy little thing with more than her fair share of tenacity.  Her entire life's work consists of 'looking for something else to eat', which has gotten her into trouble, however not as one would expect.

A couple years back, I received an early morning call from my friend whose house we had been visiting the evening prior:

Friend: Yeah hi...um, has Reese been acting strangely at all?
Me: No.  I mean she made a shit in the living room, but she's fine, why?
Friend: I think she ate mouse poison when she was here last night.
Me: Are you serious??

That shit had been pretty green, however my pup was unfazed by her choice of appetizer, so I wasn't too concerned.  I kept an eye on her and she was fine.  She has since eaten a milk chocolate bar out of some luggage a few months ago, stolen an entire meat and cheese plate for a party we threw recently and neither have given her a moment's pause.  Her piece de resistance however, was her foray into my work bag from which she stole and devoured an entire Lindt Sea Salt bar (dark chocolate), foil and all.  We did take her to the vet, albeit much too late for their taste - some chastising ensued - where they could monitor her vitals and behavior.

As you know, dark chocolate can be lethal for dogs.  It's poisonous.  We're talking potential heart arrhythmia, seizures, gastro issues...Reese only weighs 12 lbs and she ate a LOT of chocolate...3.5 ounces, to be exact.  The vets watched her and we waited anxiously to see what would happen and...

She...was a lot more hyper than usual.

That's it.  That was her symptom after eating what would equate to a considerable amount of antifreeze in a human. She just kind of hung out in the vet's office until my boyfriend went to pick her up.  A Lindt bar I bought for myself that cost $2.27 was converted into a dessert for Reese and $300 in bills and special food.  Damned dog.

She did get taken down once, though.  The Englishman and I had just moved in together and he was not used to living with a dog, let alone my eternally voracious little raptor.  He unwittingly left a new cannister of peanuts within her reach (read: on Earth) and she ate them.  All.  He texted me the play by play and told me she was "lying there with a gurgling stomach and the occasional fart".  Audible farts??  This was a new phenomenon.  Then she looked like this:

In a shaggy sea of regret

Then she got sick.  You haven't lived until you've picked half-digested peanuts out of a deep shag carpet.  At least I think that's true, as I was elsewhere during the cleanup. (Sorry, Babe)  I got my turn later that evening though, when what appeared to be a PayDay Bar materialized in our loft.  I'm not kidding.  It looked EXACTLY like this:

Smelled different, though.

I Don't Know What I'm Doing....

I've enjoyed writing since I was a child.  I moved recently and opened boxes that I had simply carried with me, unopened, from apartment to apartment and house to house for decades. Included amongst the books, photos, melted candles (thank you, hot Georgia attic) and myriad other keepsakes, I found reams and reams of my writing through the years.
There were journals, notebooks, legal pads, copy books, fictional stories on loose  leaf paper and my own personal stories in diaries a la "Are You There God...It's Me, Margaret" from my beloved Judy Blume.  I didn't realize how full of angst I was as a teen until I found those gems recently.  A few entries were so full of vitriol against my two younger sisters (warranted) and my fairly strict (though not North Korean labor camp strict as depicted) that I actually stopped reading and, cringing, turned the page.

I found a number of attempts at writing a novel, usually involving a pair of young people in some treacherous situation, short stories that incorporated whomever I deemed to be my future husband at the time (I'm looking at YOU Dolph Lundgren> and even my numerous attempts at songwriting.  Even as an adult, I can remember at least two jobs where, upon my impending departure, I put together a long, humorous poem that was really a roast of all of my colleagues, detailing their quirks and whatever escapades we had gotten into during my time there.  These were well received.

It's evident that I am fascinated by the written word and have dipped a toe in the literary pool a million times, albeit on the shallow end.  Maybe the kids' pool.  However, I never really imagined I would do this.  That I would...blog.

I've thought about it plenty of times - not truly considering it, but just thinking that it would be a fun thing to do.  But then I could never answer the first question that would pop into my head:

What the hell do I have to say?  And who would listen??

I couldn't speak with any authority - not exalted internet authority - on politics, music, fitness, relationships or finance.  I certainly have experience and opinions in those areas, but not enough to put it online and attach my name to it!  That said, I will certainly be commenting on all of the aforementioned topics at one point or another, now that I've suited up and boarded the rocket.

So, what has brought on this sudden surge of chutzpah where my humble little keyboard is concerned?  Necessity.  Desire.  Optimism!  I'm hopping aboard the entrepreneurial bullet train.  For myself this time, not as a representative of Mary Kay or any of the other attempts I've made with companies that required me to build a team under me in order to succeed.  I'm going to strut down the platform and climb up with the likes of Millenial whiz kids, tech geniuses and serial start up founders and I'm going to sit in First Class and do my best to assimilate.  I can drink tea with my pinky up!  My new venture requires a voice and that voice is this blog.  I'll have to find things to say and find people who want to hear me say it.  Okay, read it.  I'll be funny, insightful, charming, witty - <gasp!> shocking!  I will also suck, on what I hope is an increasingly less frequent basis.

Alright!  Watch this spot!  Amazing tales of hilarity, profundity and substance are coming your way, if you choose to go mine.  And one day, in the not too distant future, you can point at me on the television and tell your friends: "I knew her when."

RoLlo