Bring Your Own Lunch or New Dog?

I'm not sure which I should write about, the fact that my husband told my daughter's friend to bring something for lunch when she comes to visit or that we rescued another dog from the pound yesterday?

I think the lunch debacle is pretty self explanatory and there seems to be two camps; {gasp} O. M. G. and, "that's hysterical." I am incredibly embarrassed and I hope to GOD this child didn't tell her parents.  In further investigation, I think it was a break down in communication that can be attributed to two things: a 13 year old and a 54 year old who struggles with delusions and dementia. 'Nuff said.

Now, we obviously have a disease in my house and I fear that if we don't control it we will appear on that show "Hoarders." We don't hoard things like newspapers, or soup ladles or garbage, and although I do have a hard time letting go of books, I think that is just an occupational hazard. You can walk through my house without having to navigate a path of rusty cans and yellowed Readers Digests. You DO however have to navigate your way around the dogs. We have two well-behaved, old, pound rescues and one badly behaved 90lb behemoth who bullies the other two.On occasion we have an extra. Today we have an extra.

I forgot to mention the two cats. Basically, the animals outnumber the humans. We are just waiting for the revolt.

C2's little friend D has a neighbor who owned a dog named Chocolate. Every time we would pick up or drop off D, Chocolate would run over and lick and jump and get fleas on us. We would joke and say that we were coming back to steal him (which we would never do). He was an outside dog and tormented the neighbors with his puppy energy and endless wandering.

Well I don't want to put anyone's business out there, but it seems Chocolate had an unfortunate incident with a chicken (Chocolate won) and somehow, shortly after said incident, he ended up in the pound. When we picked up D the other day, C2 asked where Chocolate was and D said, "In the pound." "Did they go get him out?" we all asked in unison.  Nope. No they didn't.

Wait! WHAT? Your dog is in the pound and you don't go GET him? Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

So guess who the sucker is? Yeah, that's right. Me. I went to the pound and got him. Damn dog had been in there since July 9th and was so scared they had to carry him out of his little cage {sad face}. He is currently flealess and sleeping on my living room rug. We keep saying inane things to him like, "It's just tile/wood, you can walk on it," or, "you've never seen a vacuum before have you?" and "this is how real dogs live." We ARE crazy.

Not the best picture, I know. He's 40lbs and loves dogs. He whimpers when the cats come by, so we don't know if he is having a bad cat experience flashback or if he wants to play with them.

We plan on getting him fixed and finding him a home. Anyone want some Chocolate?

Yeah, it's a disease.