Doggy Destruction

Couches, pillows, shoes, duvets – even bark and gravel; he eats it all!

I now present Oliver’s most recent works of destruction. 

The couch cushion: Making a quick trip to the gym may have not been the best decision, especially while the cushion covers were in the wash.

Oliver’s boredom: 1 … Mommy multi-tasking ability: 0


Heart pillows: No love in his eyes for my festive decorating tendencies.



Valentine’s Day will never be the same at our house


Black stilettos:  4” reduced to mere nubbins in less than 1 hour.  Want to know how I learned to always put my shoes away? No mom, not because you told me every day for 18 years!


The Lasagna

Sunday date night is finally here!  Yeah – dinner and a movie.  Just as I was about to make my specialty, reservations, my most recent “+1” candidate called and suggested that we make dinner instead.  I’m sorry, do what?

Let it be known that I can’t cook, to the degree that I can single-handedly ruin Mac N’Cheese in a box.  I have accepted this, so has anyone with taste buds.

Being the good sport I am, I reluctantly suppressed my hostility toward Calphalon and slathered on a smile.  “Sure,” I responded, “What do you want me to make?”

“Lasagna,” he eagerly exclaimed.  Death sentence.  Now, I could have chopped and diced my way to a salad,  whipped up a mean batch of PB&J, even boiled water to Top Ramen perfection, but lasagna?!

Great, now I had to Google up something resembling a recipe.  Shocking, I have absolutely none of the ingredients listed.  Off to the grocery store I schlep.

$30 and a bag full of exceptionally anti-South Beach diet foods later, it was time to get started.  Luckily for me I was able to find ‘cheat’ versions of most everything I needed.  Precooked, refrigerated noodles…check!  Canned tomatoes…check!  Tub of lumpy white cheese…check!

I won’t lie to you; I own one round cake pan. I have no idea what size it is and despite what the scribbled instructions said, it won by default.  Taken aback by my layering technique I channeled Rachel Ray as I shouted out, “EVOO.”   This is really happening, I’m going to use the oven….I’m cooking!

Oliver and I patiently sat with bated breath in front of the oven taking in every minute of this magical moment, sipping wine, starring at our reflections in the glass window. Then it was time, I opened the oven door ….. Then shut it.

Where was my beautiful creation?  My masterful mound of layered goodness?  UGH!

There before me was an oozing pile of charcoal.  “+1” emerges from the billowing smoke and delivers his vigilant observation, “It isn’t supposed to look like that!”

The night ended much how I had wanted it to begin. I made my specialty, reservations.

Dog Days of Summer

‘Tis the season. Sunshine and warm temperatures can only mean one thing – off to the Dog park we go.  Wild, free and without any coordination whatsoever, 37 pounds of pure energy is released.

If you have ever had the pleasure of watching Mr. O play at his local dog parks, then you are familiar with the above sentence and the mental image will not soon leave you.  If you have not witnessed this sight, allow me to indulge you.

Oliver prefers to romp in the “largDSCF1621_0292_edited-1e” breed area. He doesn’t understand that many of them weigh at least twice what he does, nor does he desire this understanding.

Oliver prefers to be chased, but will not turn down an opportunity to do the chasing.  He is often left behind in this scenario.  Example:  Mr. O is the dog being chased, however,  due to physical challenges (see: short. furry. legs) he ends up being the chaser.  For this reason exactly, he has developed and employs a coping mechanism. He cuts corners.  Most dogs run in circles, mine runs in octagon like patterns.

Oliver prefers a proper introduction to all dog park incumbents.  He is the welcoming committee; never losing site of the entry gate and all who pass through.  Upon arrival,  sniffing procedures are completed and water bucket use policy is discussed.

Oliver prefers mud.  He will not hesitate to lie down smack dab in the middle of a swamp like mass, he might even start rolling around or digging in it.

Oliver prefers water. I’m just going to go ahead and say it; my dog has a drinking problem.  From a fountain, cup, gallon bucket or gutter puddle – it really doesn’t matter.

Oliver prefers the adopt-a-owner program.  At no time during his dog park session will he make it known that I am his mommy.  My incessant whistling, clapping and across-park hollers are met with his increased speed in the opposite direction.  Mr. O goes as far as to lay on the feet of other dog owners, soliciting their affectionate words and touch.

I  will not lie, it took time but ultimately I have accepted these preferences.  I realize that I am merely the transportation vessel to and from this hallowed playground and I am OK with that.  Whats not to embrace? Oliver is entertained for at least 60 minutes and I don’t have to do a thing.  He will be completely exhausted for the rest of the day and I don’t have to lift a finger to make that happen. I now look forward to the weekends where I can bring InStyle, an iced americano and cozy up in a corner lawn chair.  Winter will be here too soon, long live the dog days of summer!

Oliver v. Fly

Ok, so I know it is nOliver The Amazing!ew to some of you, so I’ll reiterate…..I am completely obsessed with my dog, Oliver!

He is a Basset Hound/Bichon Frise HYBRID and his daily antics often leave me somewhere in between debilitating fits of frustration and hysterical laughter. Not to discount Mr. O’s intelligence, but the guy often commits acts of curiosity that could befuddle even Captain Obvious, the defender of all things common sense.  Only recently have I turned my sheer wonder and amazement with my four-legged canine companion into valuable life lessons.  I have begun this practice mostly because I refuse to believe that Mr. O is anything other than genius!

Here is where I would insert a colorful commentary outlining O’s first encounter with a sliding glass door (the antagonistic dual pane barrier) or perhaps his venture into the fine art of detailing IKEA furniture (may the cushion stuffing rest in peace), but today I have something new….. Oliver v. Fly.

Monday, August 10, 2009  – 5:06-5:08pm

Mommy (me) goes out to the back patio to retrieve a fresh pile of laundry from the dryer.  In my haste, I decide “eh, why close the screen, I’ll only be a moment” (poor decision making skills example #1). Enter common house fly into apartment. Mommy returns into apartment, sealing in the winged intruder.

Monday, August 10, 2009  – 5:09pm

Oliver spots winged intruder.

Monday, August 10, 2009  – 5:09:21pm

Oliver sits, stays (good boy), and barks incessantly at winged intruder.

Monday, August 10, 2009  – 5:09:43pm

Fly, feeling advantageous, begins buzzing about Oliver’s furry little face (Poor decision making skills example #2). Oliver counters this attack with an act just short of a Cirque Du Soliel performance. Leap, twist, snap muzzle, grunt…repeat, repeat, repeat…..

Monday, August 10, 2009  – 5:12pm

Despite being visually amazed at his performance, after 3 incessant minutes, Mommy intervenes on Oliver’s behalf, mostly due to the audible assault this was no doubt causing the neighbors.

Monday, August 10, 2009  – 5:13pm

Fly meets untimely demise via red 4″ stiletto.

Moral of the story – No matter the effort or intent of our protective display, some enemies are only warded off by recruitment of available resources.