gawd, phoebe is a puke.

and don't give me any of that poor misunderstood, or she didn't mean it crap either tammy.

there was a pile of clean linen on the floor in front of the dryer (guess who pulled down that pile?)...and somewhere in that pile was phoebe the puke.

i knew she was there, she knew i knew she was there. and i am still going to do the laundry and she knew that too.

first starts the low growling (this is supposed to make me go away but i keep folding towels)...i tell her she better think twice before she gets into big trouble.

then the actual snarling starts...( i am still folding towels and "if you even think to bite me, you are freaking dead meat")

and then finally, the lunge.

ok, i am not that poor woman that she used to chase out of her own bedroom.

phoebe is now on a down stay on a cold and lonely vinyl kuranda bed without a blanket in sight and she better not move til i tell her to. she had her two chances to grab a brain and get smart. she decided to go with stupid. she is not going to learn anything from this except that i can be pretty damn scary without physical contact, and since i am thoroughly pissed at her, it gives me a great deal of satisfaction to know she is stuck on cold vinyl with nothing warm under or over her.
three years that dog has lived with me, she actually thinks she can tell me to "f" off and interfer with my folding laundry?

i don't think so.

hag.

and no i did not get bit, not even phoebe is that freaking crazy (and i am not stupid enough to lay a hand on her when she is like that to prove it either.) but geez, somedays i happily imagine the big blue needle hovering close to that twisted red dog.

on another note...squirt is a bit of a puke himself...i just saw him chase a cat down the hall and under my bed. while i am glad he is feeling quite brave tonight, he will have to find brave somewhere else and not at the expense of my beloved hook.