I am happy to announce, that after careful thought and consideration, I chose Secret’s Crystal Clear Cherry Mischief deodorant.
Cherry Mischief! Ooolaalaa!
It’s wonderful, marvelous and the scent is not so strong that I smell like a cherry orchard. It’s just right!
Phew! Crisis averted.
Dave profusely thanked me because, when I ran out of deodorant, I simply wore his; so, I smelled like a dude for a while. That caused quite a bit of confusion in our marriage. We’re back on track, though!
The second thing you know about me, if you’ve read along, is that my dogs (there are three of them) do not listen to me. Instead, they walk all over me. When I say sit, they jump. When I tell them to get off the couch, they lie down on the couch. When I tell them wrong, they ignore me. I get no respect! No respect!
Mostly, Angel is the culprit.
Yes, that little girl with that angelic face.
She has a licking problem. When we got her, the man at the shelter said she comes with free baths. I thought that was great! We get a dog from a shelter and they’re going to bathe her stinky doggy body…SCORE!
I was greatly mistaken, for what this gentleman was referring to was that Angel was the bather.
Angel licks everything…everything…and she doesn’t stop…she’s obsessed with the licking and the worst part is…no…I can’t say it…
Oh the shame…the worst part, her tongue is like a bullet, it moves so fast that every now and then…every now and then…*cringe*…her stupid tongue ends up licking my mouth…the inside of my mouth! OH FOR SHAME!
I KNOW, GROSS! SO GROSS! Not to mention the acne her licking causes! Oh, the acne! SOB.
If you are in close proximity to Angel and look at her, just barely glance in her direction her head will dart towards you like a torpedo racing towards an enemy ship and that tongue of hers (she has a Gene Simmons tongue) will dart out and try to bathe your face.
This is Angel. Eyeing me suspiciously. Seeing if the can make it in for the kill.
The more I shout and holler, “WRONG,” the more she tries to lick.
Well, my lovely husband, after watching me go through this for years, finally let me in on a little secret last weekend.
Dave does this thing with the dogs where points his index finger at them with his thumb raised; so, it looks likes he’s pointing a finger gun at them. They become transfixed when he does this, keeping their eyes on him. Out of nowhere, Dave will unexpectedly yell, “BANG,” at the top of his lungs! The dogs hate it. I hate it.
So, last weekend, when I was down on the floor trying to play with my traitor dogs who love Dave the finger-gun bang-man more than me, Angel, tried to overpower me and lick me to her hearts content.
I yell wrong.
I flick her nose.
I grab her snout and engage in an all out stare contest with the defiant child…er dog.
Then, Dave simply says, “Dude, all you have to do is make a gun with your hand and point it at her. That makes her stop. She hates that.”
I made an enlightened Tim-the-Tool-Man-Taylor, “ArrOoo,” grunt and immediately tried this gypsy magic out for myself.
Angel began circling me like a shark circles its prey. She went in for the kill. I rose up my gun shaped fingers, pointed them straight at her face and she…stopped dead in her tracks!
The vixen won't even look my way when the gun-fingers are pointed at her!
Whaaa-haaa-haaa!
Whaaa-haaa-haaa!
Victory is MINE!
Let me tell you, there is nothing more fun, nothing, than pointing out of the blue finger-guns at your dog, thus making them stop, dead in their tracks and look at you ever so apologetically. It’s a dirty job, folks, but, somebody’s got to do it!
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