Since nobody took advantage of my “fire” sale, I’m still living the dream with Momma. Here’s a little update.

Chaos Continued . . . 

No sooner had the firetrucks and police vehicles left after our last emergency, when Momma decided the house needed a little facelift (incidentally, not the first time Momma has used that word).  Momma thought this would be a quick fix – the contractor would just come in and rip out a bunch of dated materials and then put in all the new stuff. Maybe it would take a week or two, tops.

That is, of course, not how it worked.  We have now been living with a dumpster and porta potty in front of our house for what seems like an eternity, and there is no end in sight.  Every so often, Biffs pulls in our driveway to pump out the potty – or as Momma likes to think of it, “drain the swamp” (although she hasn’t been saying much about President Trump lately).  Just woofin’.

We have almost no functioning rooms.  Our dining room is totally impassable, piled high as it is with furniture from other rooms.  In fact, just getting outside to the deck almost requires a road map.  Our living room has no chairs on which to sit and watch Fox News. Not counting the porta potty, we are also down to one small bathroom (not nearly big enough for all of Momma’s age-defying cosmetics I might add). Luckily for me, we still have a yard.

Because of the jackhammering and other hazardous activity going on, Momma has severely restricted my movements.  (“The last thing we need is a mishap and OSHA meddling in our affairs, Lina.”)  Here I am hunkering down in my new “safe space.”

About the only reprieve I get from my little prison is when one of the nice construction workers takes pity and gives me some much-needed attention.

 

Despite the chaos, Momma points out that our life could be a lot worse:  “At least we are not living in the dumpster, Lina.”  Why am I not comforted by that statement?

Yappy Hour

For about the past month, Olympic Hills Golf Club, where Momma spends most of her waking hours, has been working on an event called “Yappy Hour.”  Momma, recognizing an opportunity when she sees one, had quickly inserted herself into the planning process.  The premise for Yappy Hour was to have a nice social event where members and guests could bring their dogs, have a cocktail or two and socialize.  It was a way for people to get to know one another and meet their friends’ dogs that they so often talked about.

Momma, however, viewed it mostly as an opportunity to sell “Lina Unleashed.”  She asked the Club if (along with all the other activities) she could set up a table from which to run her little operation.  She explained that a portion of the proceeds from the book would be going to the Animal Humane Society – so it was “all” for a good cause. Amazingly, the Club agreed – I think mainly to get her off its back, so to woof, and her plans went into high gear.  She would also get the Animal Humane Society and Chuck & Don’s Pet Food and Supplies store to draw people in and boost sales.

Momma envisioned each of us sitting on a chair behind a nicely-draped table stacked with the books.  I would be “pawdographing” them with my little pink paw stamp (she had learned her lesson on me using my actual paw, thank God), and she would be enjoying her muttini and conducting sales.

Next, Momma’s thoughts turned to our attire.  Deciding we really should have matching outfits, she bought a T-shirt for me and one for herself (“Lina’s Momma”).    Realizing that she wouldn’t have a lot of time for socializing and selling if she really had to care for me during the party, she also bought Nanny Becky and Uncle Chuck T-shirts (“Lina’s Nanny” and “Lina’s Lawyer”) and invited them – and Chuck’s dog, Willie, as well.  Considering all the hoopla, is it any wonder that I threw up four times the day before the party and required medical attention (again)?

Ever the publicity “hound,” Momma then hired a photographer – her step-granddaughter, Hannah – to take professional photos of all the participants.  As you can see, Momma was often front and center and Hannah (find her at hnsmithphotography.com) did a great job.

Although the event was spectacularly embarrassing – what with the T-shirt and entourage spectacle – it was also kinda fun and a huge success!  Let’s put our paws together for the staff at Olympic!

News Flash

Just as this post was going to press, Momma got a call from Erik, a manager at Camp Bow Wow.  At first she thought something was wrong – had I been expelled?  If so, where would she “place” me when she went off to play golf?

But when Momma heard his news – she was over the moon!  It seems I had been chosen as the Camper of the Month!  What did this mean, she wondered?  Would there be some kind of ceremony?  Could she tie it in with book sales?  Or better yet, could we get some free day care?

Sensing that her imagination was running wild, Erik quickly got things back on track and explained that I would get my picture taken and an 8 x 10 would be posted at the Camp. We were to call Patrick to set up the photo shoot.

Did someone say photo shoot?  Doesn’t Momma realize that I am still suffering PTSD (paws traumatic stress disorder) from the last one?  Would we be risking arrest again for trespassing or some other crime?  Would animal control take me into custody this time?

Brushing aside all concerns from the debacle in Naples, Momma is already picking out her outfit.

Lina, One Yappy Camper

WOOFDA!