My dog caught fire. Happy New Year!
It’s very cold. Nevertheless, today Brad took the dog outside to play frisbee. I guess when Emerson came in he was feeling pretty cold, so he got close to the woodstove. Really close. Veeery close. And started steaming, so Brad took a picture because a steaming dog is sort of funny. Oops.
Then we had lots of burned hair bits on the floor and a nasty burned dog hair smell in the house and now one of his haunches is grizzled. He’s a grizzly dog. Yet he’s sleeping behind the stove with his snout underneath it most of the time. I didn’t think animals just accidentally got themselves all singed like that.
Also, he is supposed to be a smart breed — the smartest smarty-pants breed of all.
He doesn’t get Brad’s slippers for him very well, either. Sometimes he gets them if they’re right in the room and he can see them and maybe if Brad actually puts one in his mouth for him. Then he shakes them to break their slipper necks. At least he drops them on command.
But my dog is smart, really. It’s just that he’s smart for a dog. I choose to view this singeing incident as merely underlining the superiority of humans, which my children have been trying to convince me of for the past two or three weeks. C often announces humans are the smartest animals. I enjoy responding by asking him if he can catch a fast fish using just his mouth. Or if he speaks dolphin. I am raising my children to have a confusing childhood to look back on. Fondly.
For instance, is New Year’s actually a birthday? Brad said it was a birthday for 2014, so he made a cake and we sang and had candles. I think it was just an excuse for cake, although cake doesn’t really need an excuse. Happy 2014! May it bring you fewer singed hairs than it has already brought Emerson.