On top of it, I get to deal with my woeful parental inadequacies. Just as my poor pooch, Earl. I woke up yesterday morning, and knew I wasn't going to fall bask to sleep, so I headed downstairs so I wouldn't disturb anyone else's beauty rest. I let Earl out of his kennel, head to the back door, and let him outside. It was pretty damn chilly yesterday morning - blizzardy, snowy and blowy, so the cats decided they would rather stay in, as opposed to venture out of doors, thus Earl was out on his own. I sat down on the couch with my book, turned on the weather channel, where they told me we were looking at -21c, and lots of snow squalls coming off the lakes. Good. Great. Glad I'm not going anywhere. And I snuggled up on the couch with one of my cats, and my book.

Babybear comes downstairs about an hour later, and we get us some breakfast. We snuggle up together and watch some tv. The wind continues to howl and blow. A half hour later, a show comes on about bad dogs. People submit their dog woes, and a dog whisper kinda guy comes to their homes with solutions for the naughty doggies. The first people on the show have minature poodles. The short, yappy kind that bit me when I was a kid and left a nice scar just above my lip. I have residual hostilities towards miniature poodles. Lady has four. And they are yappy and rude, jumping all over her and anyone who comes along (I also have no patience for a rude dog. I don't tolerate from my child, or from other people, I certainly won't tolerate it from my pet).

Babybear is watching these dogs, and comments "They are bad poodles, Mom."

I reply "I know. I hate poodles." (no offense skibigsky! I love the volatile poodles!)

Babybear retorts (in a snarky know-it-all voice): "Yeah, well, we *have* a poodle, and you love him." Referring to Earl, our terrier-humped-a-poodle (or vice versa) mix. He looks like a terrier from his ears back. But he has a poodle head, with poodle fur on his head. It's funny. And while he's back looks like a terrier, he has super thin fine hair like a poodle.

I glance at Babybear, annoyed with the attitude that accompanied his comment, and agree: "Yes, we do have a poodle, but he's a mix, aren't you Earl?"

Earl doesn't come. Normally he'd be all over me cause I said his name. O. My. Gawd. I left my poor little thin furred pooch out in -21c weather for nearly 2 hours at this point.

I raced to the back door and opened and called. I saw him dig his way out of the shed (smart dog - at least found himself a little cover) and he races across the backyear, up the deck and into the house. I nearly fall over myself telling him how sorry I am, while Babybear is admonishing me for leaving him out there. His poor feet were crusted in ice. The fur around his little nose and mouth was crusted with snow that was nearly an inch thick!!!

Then he went crazy. You know, like when they get out of the tub? They rip around the room like crazy, tearing up carpet as they go, back and forth, back and forth? Babybear was in stitches, he was laughing so hard. I just watched, as hunks of ice flew from his fur in all directions across the living room.

Then he stopped running. He shook himself out. Looked at us both with a cocked head in that cute "Hey, what's up?!" kinda way. Then he proceeded to make his way around the living room and ate every last piece of ice that had dislodged from his coat. It was great.

I still feel like a shite though. Poor dog. Thank goodness Babybear said something. Geez.

Hubby finally got up, and he and Babybear played, while I went to lay down - had a bad headache and felt blah - clearly the warning signs of what was to come today :(

While I rested, I had a dream. A Harry Potter dream. I guess now that I know i get my book 7 this summer, my brain is just running a mile a minute wondering what is going to happen. And I am normally geeky enough that i go and stand in the line (with kids of course - I use them as my excuse) at midnight to get my (the kid's) copy of the book. But this year...well, Possum is due July 18. That doesn't make for me standing in the Harry Potter line. I'll have a hard enough time get myself to the damn cinema on July 13 for the movie!

Anyways - Hubby told me last night, if I needed him to go get the damn book at 12:01am, he would indeed do so for me. This is a big deal - he makes fun of me for getting the books that night, or going to the show opening night. Was very thoughtful of him to offer :)

Gonna go make some tea and see if I can make me throat feel any better!

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