… but for today, I’m all about the grrrrr.
Another amusing, yet frustrating, addition to the Stupid Spats section of my site.
Honden Niet Uitlaten
This morning my husband was going out with the dogs for their morning walk. He asked me if I wanted to join him and I decided this would be a good chance for me to get some photos of the dogs. After my back fiasco last week, I realized it’d be a better idea to try when someone else could hold the dogs, so I could hold the camera.
Fast forward about a half hour. The dogs have done their business and we are heading to a nearby park. There is a playground there for the children where there is also a log next to it between the playground and some grass. I see this as my perfect opportunity to get some nice photos of the dogs, and start to explain to him as we are walking towards it.
I explain that since my back is still a bit sore, squatting down to take photos of the dogs (since it’s better to get from their eye level) still hurts, but with the log next to the grassy area, I can sit and get photos easier. Simple, right?
That’s when he sees the sign, and anything I’d said went straight out of his head. Honden Niet Uitlaten, which to me means do not let your dogs do their business here – this is where our children play! Fair enough, but we were safe seeing as the dogs have already been drained and even if Bailey did lift his leg to something, it was no more than a threat anyway. So I figured it was safe to walk the dogs onto the grass (on their leads) and get them to sit for a sec for some photos.
To Xander, the sign meant… do not, under any circumstances let your dog step a single paw on this patch of grass. If you do, you will be punished to the fullest extent of the law… and by the fullest extent of the law, we mean we will nail your balls to this log and leave you here to die.
REFUSED. Absolutely refused. Once he saw that sign that was it.
I stood there and argued that the sign didn’t mean the dogs weren’t allowed to just walk a few steps onto the grass for a minute, it means that they want their children to be able to play without fear of them coming home covered in dog shit.
“BUT HONEY IT’S JUST A FEW STEPS! I Just need you to hold them for a second while I try to get some pics of them!”
He then started demanding that we take the photos on the area where dogs are allowed and insisted that there was no difference.
“Hello?! My back? Remember that long winded explanation as we were walking up to the playground. Log = sitting, squatting = OW?! DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!” (Ok I didn’t actually say that part but I should have, because I would have done Chris Tucker proud, it was the perfect moment for it).
He still didn’t hear me though. It was like I wasn’t even speaking. He kept on arguing about going over to the grass that the dogs are allowed on.
“That’s grass they are allowed to SHIT on, they are allowed to WALK on any of it!”, I argued.
That’s when I gave up. He wasn’t going to help and there was no way I was going to try the 2 dogs + 1 camera thing again. So I proceeded to walk 3x as fast as him the whole way home, while telling him off over my shoulder the entire time. I’m sure the neighbours probably thought I was nuts, and maybe they are right, but I didn’t get to Psychoville on my own, I had a ride.
I love him, I love so many things about him, but today… yeah, not a fan.
I don’t think I need to explain why no photos are accompanying this entry.
P.S. When I told my husband I was writing this blog he responded…
“Don’t make me look like too much of an idiot! It’s not like I write on my blog about you when you do stuff!”
“PMS has started, woke up to watch wife’s head spin around three times”
“Day 2 – Chocolate supplies have run out, have run to nuclear bunker for refuge”
That’s when I was laughing so hard I stopped hearing the rest. See, now I’d think that was funny!