What a messy house! (Not a post about cleaning, because I hate cleaning)

If you'd walk into my house right now, you would think "This biatch needs to be cleaning instead of blogging"  and you're not entirely incorrect.  I'm not here to talk about cleaning, I'm here to talk about WHY my living room gets as disastrous as it does.  Now you're probably thinking (if you know me) "Did she have hoards of secret children that she hides from the general public and uses for things like weeding the garden and folding laundry?".  Why yes, yes I do.  Okay....not really.  I still have to do all that crap myself and lemme tell you what, even weeding the garden at 7:30 in the evening is too hot to be gardening in Guam.  And I usually don't start cleaning until after my second glass of wine....ahem...cup of coffee...?  I digress.

Puppies.  I have a case of puppies.  Two of cases to be exact, both adopted from the local shelter but not at the same time.  You see, Zach and I have wanted a puppy for quite some time, even before we got hitched and I made him legally bound to put up with my eccentric personality.  When we moved to Guam, we assumed we would get a puppy right away but instead ending up staying for a month with people we really didn't know.  I digress again.  I had been checking the GAIN Facebook page diligently even before we moved to Guam.  Like six months in advance because ya know, if I picked out THAT dog, it was still going to be there six months later.  So do a little fast forwarding and put yourself at the the 18/19th of April when I'm laying in bed with a severe case of brown bottle flu that has hindered me useless in every way possibly except for not getting as dizzy when I am on Facebook.

I saw the face I knew I was destined to love for the rest of my life.  It was as instantaneous as it was when I saw my husband for the first time.  He looked like a Henry and the name wasn't up for discussion  We went to the shelter and I fell in love.  "Walker"  had a twin sister and I wanted both of them but we didn't have housing so we really couldn't put in an application.  I pined away for them all week long til I finally told Zach "I don't even care if we have housing, I want that dog."  When we returned to the shelter, his sister was gone but Henry was still there and I was as happy as I could have been.   He was sweet, loving, playful and loved his mommy but something was missing.

A few months later, he had developed a terrible habit of going to the door acting like he needed to go out and when I would let him out, he'd run to the edge of the concrete to see if our neighbors' dogs were out there and if they were, hooray!  But if they weren't, he'd trudge back to the house with his tail between his legs and his head down low.  It reminded me of a kid who didn't get picked at all for t-ball (before everyone was included so no one felt left out).  It was so sad, I knew what needed to be done.

I told Zach we needed to go back and just "look".  Then he fell in love.  He didn't want to look around, this was the one he wanted.  He saw "Blythe" and he knew she would fit perfect in our family. We renamed her Hannah which also happens to be my sister's name.  I asked for permission...sheesh.  Hannah is spunky, obnoxious, stubborn, listens only when she sees fit and I'm sure if she could talk, she would be sarcastic.  Whereas Henry listens, knows lots of tricks and is extremely goofy.  Mirror images of my husband and I.

So right now, as I'm writing the last few sentences, every single dog toy is scattered throughout my living room, there are little pieces of white/brown fuzz all over the floor in varying sizes from a stuffed toy and Henry's dog bed.  The dogs are running around growling and pouncing on one another.  I have never been to a dog fighting ring but I would assume it sounds  something like the daily occurrence at my house.  It's perfectly imperfect and I wouldn't want it any other way....unless I could finally teach Henry how to fetch beer....I would want it that way.

Xoxo
Riley Writes